Looking for Magic
by Hypnobarb
Summary: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger deal with traumas past and present and find they have more in common than they realize as they prepare for the ultimate confrontation with Voldemort. SSHG pairing. Not HBP compliant. This is a novel length story.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandy for looking this over and their suggestions.

I began writing this story in February 2005. It completely and happily ignores the events taking place in the Half Blood Prince. Be forewarned, this fic is novel length with 60 chapters already written. Relationships evolve and action builds slowly.

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Severus, September 12, 1997

Newt level potions was definitely Severus Snape's favorite class to teach. No more self-destructive Neville Longbottoms, no more mediocre Pansy Parkinsons, just Hogwarts' best and brightest with a genuine interest in potions. Or at least a very good reason to be in the class and take it seriously.

Sitting at his desk at the front of the Potions classroom, Professor Snape looked up from grading the Second Year's essays on the uses of lavender in relaxation and anti-stress potions. His quill paused over the pot of red ink (Scroll and Quill's special blend, number 8, favored because it stayed blood red even when dry) as he did his customary critical scan of the classroom to ensure all was well. At least with the advanced students, he did not usually find it necessary to stalk and hover in order to prevent errors in measuring or choice of ingredients, let alone practical jokes and horseplay of the kind that resulted in cauldrons exploding and injuries to students. Six years of previous instruction and witnessing the results of brewing errors had at long last instilled a sense of safety into their flat little heads.

The aspect Severus most appreciated about this class was the opportunity to make the students _think_. Their assignment should keep them busy thinking for the next two hours. After twenty years of teaching the potions curriculum to congenital idiots (Gregory Goyle came to mind in that category) or very young (Who thought it was a good idea to teach potions to eleven year olds?), Severus was bored.

The First through Third Year classes required nothing more than posting directions on the blackboard, lecturing on basics, teaching chopping, slicing, and grinding techniques, followed by watching every move the little dunderheads made to ensure they did not blow themselves up. After almost twenty years, the only interesting thing left to do was to detract House points, assign detentions, and otherwise torture the students (within the limits of the Hogwarts' policies and procedures manual).

Fourth and Fifth Year students posed a bit more of a challenge. They had the capacity to surprise and their ability to make truly serious errors was astounding. Their creativity in practical joking or seeking revenge on their fellow students was unparalleled. It should be noted that the notorious Weasley twins did not become true menaces to society until they hit their Fourth Year. The Weasley practical jokes were often quite entertaining. Severus recalled fondly the time they caused Slytherin's Fifth Year males to develop pink feathers on their genitalia just in time for Valentine's Day. Still, that sort of behavior was not to be publicly condoned if one is to retain discipline. On the bright side, it did keep some of the young men of Slytherin from participating in the Hogwart's unofficial, but annual Festival of Fornication. At least working out the antidote posed a challenge for the better part of the evening and got Severus out of chaperoning the dance.

Unlike the rest of the faculty, Severus Snape did not breathe a sigh of relief when the Weasley twins abandoned academic pursuits during their Sixth Year to open a joke shop. A considerable amount of creativity and originality went into their potions work, something Professor Snape appreciated, even if he could not reward them for it with grades or House points. They were Gryffindors, after all. In retrospective, dealing with Fred and George Weasley kept his wits sharp and challenged his ability to develop new antidotes.

Once Owls were out of the way, the number of students continuing to pursue potions education dropped considerably. At Sixth Year, Potions class was no longer mandatory. It was a highly selective elective class. Students applied to be admitted and could be denied admission by the instructor, with approval from Hogwarts' Headmaster. After five years of instruction by the brilliant, if highly sarcastic and unpleasant Professor Snape, the students who applied knew exactly what they were getting themselves into.

Snape's standards of excellence were the highest among the faculty and beyond reach for any but a small percentage of the most intelligent and capable students. Technically, the phrase 'small percentage' was not entirely accurate, since Severus did not consider even one percent of the students capable of meeting his standards. If, in a given year, one student met his highest standards, it was a very good year.

In the year of 1997, the Seventh Year Potions class included a few students Professor Snape did not accept of his own free will. The most obvious case in point was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived To Become An Annoyance. From Severus' point of view, Potter's first mistake was being born. His second was not being born a squib.

The year Severus Snape saw the list of incoming First Years included Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, was a year Severus considered changing careers. From time-to-time, commercial potions companies attempted to recruit him for their research and development departments. However, Severus' sense of obligation and self-preservation caused him to stay right where he was.

At a very bad point in his life, Severus made a promise to Albus Dumbledore. The promise could allow for his redemption for activities engaged in as a minion of one Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort. The promise required Severus to continue his role as a loyal Death Eater, but actually spy on Voldemort and bring information back to the Order of the Phoenix. The intelligence would be used by Dumbledore and his gang for the purpose of capturing, killing, or at least incarcerating Voldemort and his gang.

The need for those intelligence reports changed one evening when Voldemort was blasted out of his body while using a killing curse on Harry Potter, toddler. No one, except possibly Dumbledore, had any idea how the most powerful Dark wizard in Britain could have his body disassembled by a child not yet out of nappies. Most assumed Voldemort was dead. Severus Snape assumed nothing of the sort. Having more than a passing familiarity with Dark Arts, Severus did not accept the common belief in Voldemort's demise.

He did not know exactly what Tom Riddle had done to his body in pursuit of immortality. The darkness of it made it possible Voldemort had survived in a form not yet seen. Severus' work was not done. There were Death Eaters to be rounded up. Severus' knowledge of their identities and activities was invaluable to the process, but the greater concern was whether or not Voldemort could resurface at some future time. This required Severus to maintain connections with the darker side of wizarding society to listen for rumors about Voldemort reincarnating himself. Severus' foresight in maintaining ties with former Death Eater colleagues paid off when Voldemort returned in 1995, intending to take up where he left off in 1981. With the Death Eaters reactivated, Severus returned to his role of double agent, treading a careful and narrow line between survival and dismemberment.

Severus had issues with Harry Potter. It was déjà vu when eleven-year-old Potter stepped from beneath the Sorting Hat to sit with his fellow Gryffindors. Anger and resentment buried for years bubbled up to the surface. It became a continual battle to view young Harry Potter as anything other than a clone of his father.

James Potter was handsome, rich, popular, and rather shallow. Severus Snape was unattractive, poor, unpopular, and deep. James was intelligent. Severus was brilliant. James, in Gryffindor fashion, had it in him to be a bully. Severus, in Slytherin style, had it in him to be sneaky. Young Severus found himself on the receiving end of cruel and humiliating jokes at the hands of James and his friends. He was capable of giving back as good as he got, but lacked genuine friends to back him up. He never got satisfyingly even with Potter and the Marauders. It was a popularity contest Severus could not win and having lost so badly, he resolved never to compete in that arena again. Severus was genuinely bitter.

Harry Potter caught the fallout of that bitterness. The qualities Snape resented in the father were present in the son; intelligence combined with an unwillingness to apply himself to full potential, a lack of self-discipline devolving into impulsiveness. Just like his father, Potter had a small circle of very close and loyal friends. Unlike his father, Potter had the damnedest luck on the planet.

No doubt about it, Harry Potter should have been killed off any number of times. Professor Quirrel with Voldemort hitchhiking on the back of his head, did his best to do away with the boy. There was a small matter of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle holding the leash. Not to mention Remus Lupin in his werewolf form attacking Potter and his friends on a night with a full moon and no Wolfsbane Potion. Voldemort went after Potter personally during the Tri Wizarding Tournament and sent his Death Eaters after him at the Ministry of Magic. And Sixth Year? Well, Potter escaped from Voldemort that time by the skin of his teeth and more of that luck. If Harry Potter had nine lives, he was on his twelfth.

Severus considered the current version of Harry Potter. The boy had grown into a somewhat more adult form. Physically, Potter gained height and put on weight. He was not as scrawny as he was his first few years at Hogwarts, but still slight enough to hold his place as the Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Magically, Potter was fulfilling Dumbledore's hopes by becoming a powerful wizard. Pure magical brawn combined with genuine talent and lightning reflexes, Potter was on his way to becoming Dumbledore's weapon.

From Severus' perspective, the signs that Harry Potter was finally growing up gave him hope of holding off the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse attached to that damn prophecy that only Potter could kill off the Dark Lord. He supposed it was the raid on the Ministry of Magic that finally pushed the boy into becoming an adult. Potter finally understood the consequences of his lack of impulse control when his godfather was killed and several of his friends badly hurt. Since then, Potter was more likely to listen, think, and consider before acting, thank Merlin.

Dumbledore still controlled and manipulated the most important aspects of Potter's life, especially those parts intended to turn him into the wizarding weapon of Death Eater destruction. The most important issue was Potter's future after Hogwarts, now less than a year away. How can one make a living in the wizarding world when one has been trained and honed as a warrior? Lacking standing armies, the Aurory is the only real choice left.

To become an Auror, one must achieve a Newt in Potions. Hence, Harry Potter enrolled in Seventh Year Potions class. Potter's performance on his Potions' Owl did not merit admission into Sixth Year Potions. A good deal of arm twisting from Minerva McGonagall, a bottle of twenty-five year old firewhiskey, and Dumbledore's nonstop nagging with sherbet lemons got Potter back in the Potions classroom once more.

Potter was doing better than Severus expected. Although he would never show a genuine aptitude for potions, Potter was more compliant than in the past. He followed directions, read the assignment before class, and turned in his homework on time. Best of all, he did not fool around in the classroom and paid attention to his work.

Of course, wherever Harry Potter goes, Ronald Weasley can be expected to follow. The day Potter decided to become an Auror, Weasley decided to become an Auror. Doubtlessly, someday when Potter leaves with a bride on his honeymoon, the sidekick will tag right along.

Weasley's admission into the class cost Minerva two bottles of brandy, five midnight patrols on dates to be named later, and a promise not to complain if Severus kicked Weasley out if his grades dropped below passing. Weasley was truly living up to expectations and Severus Snape's expectations for Weasley were quite low. Weasley barely scraped by Sixth Year Potions, mostly due to Granger's nagging and tutoring. Seventh Year Potions was likely to be the same.

Granger. Hermione Granger. The single student Severus hoped to find each year, the one with the aptitude for the subtle science and exact art that is potions making. Not that Severus could possibly realize this the first few years she disrupted his class with her wild hand waving and general know-it-all mode of classroom participation.

In those days, Severus believed Draco Malfoy would be the truly special student. Draco was the one who offered correct answers without reciting the entire encyclopedia. Draco could explain the 12 uses of dragon's blood without making his ears hurt. Draco, Severus' distant cousin and son of his boyhood friend, Lucius Malfoy, could be the one to fulfill the dream.

But Draco topped out early. By the end of Fourth Year, it was apparent Draco's superior performance was due to his extensive and expensive tutelage at home in his formative years prior to beginning at Hogwarts. In the Seventh Year Potions class, Draco demonstrated competence, but not the insight Severus had hoped for. Were Draco to make Potions his career (which would never happen because Malfoys live off their investments), he would be a capable laboratory technician, recreating to perfection the potions invented by others. He would never invent a potion of his own.

Severus expected Granger to plateau early. During her first three years in Potions class, Granger was a fount of information, regurgitated out of the books she read compulsively. Granted, she showed skill in preparation of ingredients, perfectly chopped, sliced, diced, ground, or powdered into whatever form required. Severus had encountered such students before. Possessed of a good memory and manual dexterity, potions would be almost easy until it came time to _think_. Right about the same time Draco was hitting his plateau; Granger was showing she could move to the next level.

Granger could see the connections between ingredients and brewing conditions. Brewing potions was not the same as baking a cake. One can make a cake from flour, eggs, liquid, fat, flavorings, and a rising agent as long as proportions were correct and basic mixing and baking directions followed.

Complex potions were never as simple as following the recipe. The intent of the brewer affected the potion. The phase of the moon, the vibrations of the ingredients, and material of the stirrer could all affect the outcome. An infinite number of factors to consider, all of which must come together properly to produce the potion desired. Potter, Malfoy, and sometimes Weasley could produce an acceptable potion that would do the job, just by following the directions. Granger could produce the superlative potion, because she could see the factors exceeding the directions. She had the insight, the aptitude, and the gift. She challenged his mind, inspired his own research, and offered the satisfaction a teacher most craves, the growth and success of the student.

And the saddest part of it, Severus could never encourage her to pursue it. Hermione Granger could never become a Potions Master.


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking this over and their suggestions.

I began writing this story in February 2005. It completely and happily ignores the events taking place in the Half Blood Prince.

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Hermione, September 12, 1997

Hermione Granger stood at her laboratory table in the Potions classroom. Professor Snape had just presented the class with a problem to solve.

In his usual professorial stance, Snape stood on the platform at the front of the classroom, his hand raised to the list of ingredients on the blackboard. "You are to brew a potion to treat depression. The basic ingredients for the potion are listed on the board. They are:"

St. John's Wort

Wild Oat

Kava Kava

Gotu Kola

Schizandra

Feverfew

Horehound

Damiana

Passion Flower

"You must answer two questions: Question 1: What additional herbal ingredients could you add to the potion to increase its effectiveness? Question 2: What charm would you use to activate the potion?"

"For extra credit: What other means could you use to enhance the effectiveness of the potion?"

Examining the formula on the blackboard, Hermione recognized the ingredients as standard herbals for reducing depression and balancing mood. Staring at the board, she unconsciously tapped her index finger to her lips, deep in thought.

Professor Snape continued his lecture; "The symptoms of depression include persistent feelings of sadness and hopelessness, lack of interest in things which were once of real enjoyment, and a significant lack of energy and initiative. Sometimes depression is situational, caused by things such as losing a job, breaking up with a romantic partner, or a death in the family. That kind of depression usually lifts on its own after a few weeks. Chakra imbalance and blockages are common in depression. Depression can range from mild to severe. People with chronic depression have a biochemical cause and can find their lives completely dominated by the depression. They may be unable to function or function well below their potential. A condition with which many of you are quite familiar."

Hermione contemplated the list of ingredients on the board. The potion used only herbals, with no animal-based ingredients listed on the board. These were the same kinds of herbal ingredients available to Muggles who prefer taking all natural compounds instead of the stronger pharmaceuticals. She realized that adding the charm was necessary to take this potion to the more effective level, probably to be used for someone with chronic, but mild depression. There would be animal-based ingredients or more magical ingredients in it if it were intended for someone with moderate or severe depression. Hermione decided that Professor Snape was probably looking for other herbal ingredients to enhance what was already there.

Professor Snape continued, "You have two hours to complete this assignment. I expect you to explain your choices and have the completed potions ready for my inspection prior to decanting."

Taking her quill, Hermione dipped it into the inkpot and scribbled on a piece of parchment:

Valerian Root

Borage

Gingko Biloba

Hermione pondered her potion. Depression effected energy level and initiative, and adding these herbals could address those issues. But what charm to use? Hermione decided to wait on the charm until she figured out what other means could improve the potion and make it more effective. Hermione leaned forward, elbows on the table, deep in thought. How would these ingredients fit together on a vibrational level? Pulling out a numerological chart tucked inside her book bag, Hermione began to calculate.

Alleviate Depression equals 4

St. John's Wort equals 1

Wild Oat equals 3

Kava Kava equals 7

Gotu Kola equals 3

Schizandra equals 4

Feverfew equals 9

Horehound equals 9

Damiana equals 7

Passion Flower equals 1

Valerian Root equals 6

Borageequals 3

Gingko Biloba 5

Total: 58 equals (5+8 equals 13) which equals (1+3 equals 4)

Hermione considered her list and decided she was on the right track. Numerologically, the phrase "alleviate depression" was a 4. The Pythagorean numerological analysis of these ingredients totaled to 4, which matched the phrase "alleviate depression". It was a good vibrational fit. What else could be added to the vibration level of the potion that would fit? She needed the total to come to 4. Hermione took a hair tie out of her bag and proceeded to pull her hair into a low ponytail at the back. The idea came to her. She could add crystals and stones related to clearing chakras, healing, and reducing negativity. The sum of their vibrational levels needed to equal 4, which would add punch to the potion by expressing the intent in a more powerful way than by her will alone.

Reaching back into her book bag, Hermione removed a lumpy fabric bag and began to pick through the contents. She removed a crystal, examined it, and either set it aside as useful or put it next to the cauldron if it had potential. She decided to use bixbite for its benefit in releasing negativity and enhancing personal growth. It vibrated to the number 8. She considered obsidian, but decided the risk it posed for initiating out-of-body experiences outweighed the benefit of spiritual insight. Moldavite also worked very well for gaining insight and energy and vibrated to 2. Opal was good for creativity and initiative, opening the chakras, and was another number 8. Opal might crack in a boiling liquid, but could be strained out when the potion was done.

Hermione considered the crystals she already selected and ran the numbers. (8+2+8 equals 18) which equals (1+8 equals 9). The total of bixbite, moldavite and opal vibrated to a total of 9, which was not what she needed. The final total must equal 4 to match the potion and the phrase "alleviate depression". She needed something else to add to the 18, to bring the total to 4. She considered quartz, which was always good for balancing the chakras and conveniently vibrated at whatever number is needed. Somehow, it seemed too easy and obvious. Hermione rummaged through the bag again and pulled out bloodstone. An intense healing stone, considered the stone of courage, it was known to bring uniformity and balance to the energy fields. It vibrated to 4, which gave her (8+2+8+4 equals 22), which equals (2+2 equals 4). Perfect.

Hermione returned the unused stones to the fabric pouch and dropped them in her book bag. Now to determine the charm, she pulled out an English to Latin dictionary. The word 'sad' could be either 'miserabilis', which was numerologically an 8 or 'tristus' which was a 6. She also needed a stop word. 'Confuto' was a 4, which would not work. To keep the potion numerologically balanced, she needed a total of 4 and 'Confuto Miserabilis' would give her a 12, which totaled 3.

She wrote down 'Consto Miserabilis' and calculated again. 'Consto' was 5, 'miserabilis' was 8, giving 13, which totaled 4. Hermione decided to use 'Consto Miserabilis' and keep the wandwork simple by drawing the rune Ansuz, representing harmony, truth, and wisdom.

Looking around, Hermione realized the other students had already started brewing their potions. She proceeded to the storage room to retrieve the ingredients. In ten minutes, she had a measure of water in her cauldron at a low boil. Her ingredients were prepared carefully, measured, dropped into the water and gently stirred. One hour later, all of the herbal ingredients were simmering gently in the pot. The scent was crisp and grassy, just as it should be. The color was a pale yellow. Standing over the cauldron, Hermione held the crystals and stones in her hands, whispering softly to express her intent; "Let these stones and their vibrations add to the healing powers of this potion, that anyone who partakes of this potion shall find relief from depression, balance in their energy system, and healing in their soul." Hermione dropped the stones into the potion. Taking her wand, she waved it in the shape of the rune Ansuz over the cauldron and whispered "Consto Miserabilis." A soft golden glow issued from the cauldron and disappeared.

Hermione stepped back from the cauldron and looked up. She realized Professor Snape was watching her from his place at the front of the classroom. He stepped down from the platform and moved around the tables, beginning his process of evaluating the potions. Hermione smiled to herself as Snape moved into his classic 'time to criticize the students' pose. This usually involved standing very tall (which at a few inches over 6 foot, he could generally do quite well), hovering over the cauldron and the student, rocking back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back and giving a scathing commentary.

"Mr. Zabini, your potion is green. What charm did you use?" Blaise Zabini opened his mouth to reply when the Professor snapped, "No do not bother to answer. You will only confuse your impressionable classmates. If you had used a correct charm, your potion would be a soft gold. Dispose of this mess and I want two feet by next class on what went wrong and what foolish mistakes you will not make next time."

The Professor continued onto the next table, occupied by Ronald Weasley. Ron stood very straight and very nearly as tall as the Professor, making eye contact. Hermione wondered if Ron was feeling exceptionally brave today and hoped it would not backfire on him.

Snape looked into the cauldron and then sneered at Ron. "Well Mr. Weasley, I see that the notion of giving 100 monkeys 100 quills and allowing them enough paper and ink to write for one million years will eventually produce the collected works of Nicholas Flamel. Your potion is mustard yellow. You have the basics correct. What did you add to ingredients listed on the board?"

"Chamomile, Professor." Ron answered, now avoiding making eye contact with Snape.

It never took much to blow Ron's confidence to shreds, thought Hermione.

"Chamomile makes a lovely tea and will help you to get a good night's sleep," sneered Professor Snape. "Do not drink any tonight, Mr. Weasley. You will need to be awake if you are going write an essay on two ingredients that could be added to the potion to enhance its effectiveness against depression, not sleeplessness. Two feet, Mr. Weasley."

Ron coughed and looked chastened. "Erm. Yes, sir Professor."

Professor Snape moved onto the next table, where Harry's potion was bubbling noisily in the cauldron. Snape examined the contents and grimaced.

"Mr. Potter. Do you understand the meaning of the term 'simmer'? It does not mean that the contents boil and splatter outside of the cauldron. A rough, rude boil results in overcooked ingredients. This is a delicate potion, not vegetable soup, Mr. Potter. Dispose of this and have your essay ready for next class. Two feet on the subject of the effect of temperature and the quality of simmering on herbal ingredients in this potion."

Harry kept his face expressionless. "Thank you, _Professor_ Snape," replied Harry, the annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Sarcasm, Mr. Potter? I suggest you practice. You have a long way to go before you will be any good at it. Weasley might be willing to allow you to practice on him. However, it would be a waste of time. He is unlikely to recognize the subtlety. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Mr. Malfoy. I see your potion is a pale marigold color. Nicely done. What ingredients did you add to the original list?"

Malfoy looked directly at Potter and smirked. "I added valerian, sir."

"An excellent choice, Mr. Malfoy. And what charm did you use?"

"Confuto Miserabilis, sir." replied Malfoy, preening.

"15 points to Slytherin. Give me an essay on the effects of different dosages on depression. Ahh. Next we have the inestimable Miss Granger. I see a pale golden color. And what did you add to your potion?" Professor Snape rested his hands on either side of the cauldron and leaned forward, blocking Hermione's view of her classmates.

"I added borage, valerian root, and gingko biloba as herbals. I simmered the potion with one crystal each of bixbite, moldavite, opal, and bloodstone." Hermione replied, her eyes looking down at the potion. Why did he have to be so intimidating?

"And your reasoning?" Snape inquired, his voice velvet.

"I want to coordinate the vibrational level of the ingredients, crystals, and incantation to the number 4 to match the Pythagorean numerology of the phrase 'alleviate depression'."

"Miss Granger, your potion should be quite effective, in spite of this hair which I see resting on the side of your cauldron." Snape picked a long curly hair off the side of the cauldron, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. His expression was one of utter distaste. "Is there reason to be concerned that your hair is another ingredient here? This is an antidepressent potion, not Polyjuice. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for failing to keep your hair out of your cauldron and an essay on contamination prevention. One foot please, and another two feet explaining in detail your reasoning behind your choices."

Draco Malfoy gave Hermione a particularly superior smile. Harry and Ron both looked as if they had taken a Pepper Up potion and steam was ready to escape from their ears. Hermione gave them her much used 'settle-down' look, deescalating the situation.

Professor Snape continued around the room, verbally skewering students as he evaluated their potions. Hermione turned off the magical burner under her cauldron to let her potion cool so she could strain and bottle it. In her mind, she reviewed the potion's preparation, step-by-step. Professor Snape said it should be 'quite effective'. High praise, indeed coming from him, especially combined with taking twenty-five house points. Hermione raised her head and looked around the room. She took in the dark cool stone, the light of the burners under the cauldrons, the scent of herbs and spices in the air. She looked back down at her cauldron.

'I love doing this,' she thought. 'I love figuring out what has the potential to work, with all the subtleties that go with it. It's not just the potions themselves; it's working out the charm, doing the arithmancy, and all the little details. It brings together so many aspects of magic and chemistry. It makes me feel so creative and challenged. There's so much room to imagine how I could do things. This is what I want to do. I could do this for the rest of my life.'

Hermione sighed, 'I've got to talk to Professor Snape.'

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The ingredients in Hermione's potion are often used in herbal remedies used to treat depression. Do not concoct this at home if you're not a trained herbalist.

The numerological analysis of the ingredients is accurate using Pythagorean Numerology. This chapter has been reloaded due to all of the equal signs disappearing. Some modifications were made to try and make the numerology clear.

The uses of crystals and minerals is taken from a wonderful reference book describing the metaphysical properties of the mineral kingdom, "Love is in the Earth," by Melody.

My high school and college German are not helping in the least with Latin. I apologize to Latin scholars everywhere for the high probability I have massacred the Latin in this story.


	3. Chapter 3

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking this over and their suggestions.

I began writing this story in February 2005. It completely and happily ignores the events taking place in the Half Blood Prince.

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Severus Snape, September 20, 1997

Albus Dumbledore sat in the most comfortable chair in the parlor. Of course, at almost 150 years old and the most senior person in the room, everyone agreed he was entitled. The assortment of seats in the room, along with the settee, included three wingback chairs, a shaker rocker, and some of the chairs from the dining room. It was crowded providing enough seating for the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were present. Minerva McGonnagall sat beside Dumbledore in one of the three wingbacks, the other occupied by Alastor Moody. Remus Lupin looked quite comfortable in the rocking chair, while Molly and Arthur Weasley, along with their second oldest son, Charlie, occupied dining room chairs. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, the newest members of the Order, shared the sofa. Nymphadora Tonks, off duty Auror, occupied a spot on the floor. The parlor was really too small for such a meeting, much smaller than the parlor at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Two years ago, the meeting would have been held at the home of Sirius Black, convicted murderer. It was a happy day for Harry Potter when his godfather Black, whom he didn't know was his godfather, managed to turn himself into a dog to escape the Dementors and bolt out of Azkaban, the wizards' prison. Wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and implicated in the murders of Harry's parents, Sirius Black took it on the lam with help from Harry, Hermione, a time-turner, and a death row escapee hippogriff by name of Buckbeak. From this complex series of events, the Order of the Phoenix welcomed the return of their prodigal son and found themselves a headquarters in Sirius Black's formerly abandoned home.

Among the unfortunate side effects of having a secret organization's headquarters in the home of an escaped murderer is the inability to openly acknowledge the house is now occupied. There were plenty of questions about actual ownership that would not hold up to close examination. Ultimately, the issue was resolved when Sirius Black met his untimely end trying to rescue Harry who was trying to rescue him in the infamous raid on the Ministry of Magic. Given an escaped murderer couldn't really claim legal title to the old family mansion, Sirius couldn't leave it to anyone in his will. Within weeks of his death, it occurred to the members of the Order that it was time to abandon Grimmauld Place and seek a new headquarters in London. A townhouse in an upper middle class Muggle neighborhood was deemed suitable and purchased. Remus Lupin, the Order's Intelligence Coordinator and only employee moved in. It was intended that Harry Potter would likewise take up residence upon graduating from Hogwarts. Lacking any real family and needing a secure place to live where he could be kept out of the clutches of the Death Eaters, it seemed a reasonable arrangement. Other Order members would come and go as needed, with plenty of extra bedrooms and dry cellar.

The meeting had been going on for a few hours. Recent events at the Ministry of Magic related to the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters were discussed. The raid on the Ministry of Magic a bit over a year ago forced Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, to finally acknowledge the reality of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The point had been reached when the battle between a handful of teenagers and Death Eaters in the central atrium of the building housing the seat of wizarding government could be ignored. Fudge lost his position in a vote of no-confidence and was swiftly replaced by Madame Amelia Bones. Madame Bones, as capable and no-nonsense minded as could be found anywhere, had her hands full in dealing with decades of accumulated corruption within the Ministry. It was apparent the Dark Lord had sympathizers and informants within the Ministry and very likely within the Aurory itself. The evening's discussion revealed a pattern of unsuccessful raids by Aurors against suspected Death Eaters pointed in the direction of Voldemort being tipped off. The late arrival of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt brought the subject back to the forefront as he confirmed the conclusions arrived at earlier in the evening. It was almost midnight before it was determined that no action could be taken on this matter until the Order had a better idea of who the informants might be. Frustrated, the Order members took their leave one by one.

It was well after midnight when Severus Snape arrived. By that time, most of the Order members had left. Only Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonnagall, and Hermione Granger remained. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been required to floo back to Hogwarts under protest, questioning why Hermione was allowed to remain without them. McGonnagall told them it was none of their business and sent them on their way. When Professor Snape arrived, his response to the presence of a student at a meeting of the inner circle was to raise his eyebrow in question at her direction.

"Is there a reason Miss Granger is present, Albus?" Severus inquired.

"Miss Granger is here with my permission. She has requested an opportunity to speak with the four of us. Is there anything sensitive you need to report to us, first? Otherwise, I would prefer to allow Miss Granger to go first and then take your report later. Miss Granger can return to Hogwarts when she is done." Dumbledore stretched out his legs and curled his long fingers around the arms of his chair. Snape accepted a cup of tea offered by Professor McGonnagall and sat down on the other end of the sofa currently occupied by Hermione.

"In that case, I shall defer to Miss Granger," drawled Severus.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Thank you, Professor Snape. I very much appreciate the four of you taking the time to meet with me." She was interrupted by nods of the head and sounds of encouragement.

"Professor McGonnagall has asked me about my plans for after graduation. I know Harry and Ron have already put in their applications for admission into Auror's training. My own ambitions lie in a very different direction. It is my hope to pursue further education and training in potions."

Severus met Hermione's eyes as he looked at her over his teacup. "Miss Granger, are you aware of the obstacles that lie in the way of such a goal?"

"Very much so, sir. I've been dwelling on them for the best part of a year since I realized this was what I wanted to do." Hermione shook her head. "As frustrating as it is to accept, I realize it would be impossible for me to obtain an apprenticeship in Britain."

Severus set down the teacup and exchanged a look with Dumbledore. "I believe you are correct, Miss Granger, but it would be enlightening if you would explain why you believe this to be so."

Hermione shrugged. "It's because I'm Muggleborn. There are twenty-nine Potions Masters in Britain. Of that number, seventeen are Purebloods and twelve are mixed bloods. No British Potions Master would be willing to take on a Muggleborn apprentice, especially under current conditions. Even if that Potions Master has no bias against Muggleborns, to contract to provide Master's level training to a Muggleborn would be the equivalent of painting a target on one's back. A double target if you're apprenticing Harry Potter's friend." Hermione looked back at Severus. "I fully understand the situation you are in, sir. I will not make such a request of you."

Severus peered at her, surprised. "Miss Granger, your insights into the situation are accurate."

"Hermione, is there another area you would consider for apprenticeship?" asked McGonnagall. "I offer you an apprenticeship in Transfigurations. You are most capable and have the potential to achieve mastery. There would be no risk to having you as an apprentice I do not already bear by virtue of being Head of House for Gryffindor."

"Professor McGonnagall, I think that is the most generous offer anyone has ever made to me. If I didn't have my heart set on potions, I would accept in a heartbeat." Hermione gave McGonnagall a warm smile, basking in her praise and strong sense of friendship. "I have considered my alternatives. Seeking a potions apprenticeship on the Continent would probably garner the same results as seeking one in Britain. I do not wish to look to Asia, Africa, or South America for an alternative. In those places, my being female would be a bigger barrier than being Muggleborn. I am considering an alternative in the United States." Hermione reached into her ever-present book bag and withdrew a manila envelope. Looking at the three faces of her teachers, she asked; "Are you familiar with Avalon College?"

Dumbledore picked up his teacup. "Yes, Miss Granger. I believe we are all familiar with Avalon College to one degree or another. It is an interesting idea, but it is an experiment."

"I don't wish to bore you with information you already have, so please stop me if I'm telling you things you already know." Hermione said with sincerity. "From the information I have from them, they were started a few years ago based on the model of the American university system. They offer classroom style instruction using different professors with different specialties, not terribly different than what is provided by Hogwarts. They offer major programs of study in Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Mediwizardry, and the other usual courses of study. What I'm really interested in is their six year Potions program." Hermione opened the manila envelope and withdrew a small book. "According to their college catalog, their program includes both wizarding and Muggle science instruction so the student finishes with a degree recognized in the Muggle world. Of course, being a totally new concept in the wizarding world, I don't know there's any way to tell now how a degree will be received here. That's why I wanted to meet with the four of you. Would you look at the information they sent me and give me an opinion on whether or not the program looks viable, if I can come out of it with the education I need to do what I want to do?"

Hermione handed the catalog to Dumbledore. Setting his half-moon eyeglasses further up his nose, he spoke as he perused pages in the book. "I do not know a great deal about the college. From what I have heard, it has some very wealthy patrons supporting it. Have you heard of Daniel Schuler?" Dumbledore looked around at the others in the parlor. Lupin nodded. "Ah, Remus has heard of him, but I take it the rest of you have not. Daniel Schuler is descended from a wizarding family that immigrated to the United States back when I was still a young man. I knew his grandfather on his mother's side from some time I spent in Vienna. Interesting family history, the Schuler's. They are of German ancestry, quite a long affiliation with Durmstrang, as I recall. Back when I knew them, the line was not running true, magically speaking. They had a large extended family, but a good many were squibs. The ones who did have magic were not strong wizards, very intelligent people, but magically weak. They were not doing well in wizarding society in Germany and Austria of the late 1800's, so they packed up and moved to the United States. I understand they have done quite well for themselves there." Dumbledore handed the catalog to Lupin.

Lupin opened the book and took up from where the Headmaster left off. "In my travels before I came to Hogwarts, I spent a couple of years in the United States and heard quite a bit about the Schulers. They are famous in both wizarding and Muggle circles."

Dumbledore continued. "The family came to the United States with some money. They settled in fairly quickly and started several successful businesses between all the family members."

"Very successful." added Lupin. "Wizarding society in the United States is very different than in Europe. The wizarding families who immigrated to the United States were largely ones who weren't magically powerful and couldn't compete in Pureblood wizarding society. But they did very well in the wide open American society where success and prestige is measured more by acquisition of money than any sense of bloodline. There's much more involvement in Muggle life and businesses by wizarding families than you would ever find here in Britain. You'll find lots of intermarrying with Muggles and a good deal less prejudice about Purebloods versus mixed bloods or even Muggleborns. None of the prominent American wizarding families would be considered Purebloods here. I don't think the concept has much meaning there." Lupin handed the catalog to McGonnagall.

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Hermione. "I speak of Daniel Schuler because he is probably the living symbol of the kind of success Remus describes. Daniel Schuler is the founder and president of a company that has been extraordinarily successful in the Muggle and wizarding worlds. I believe it is called Digital Magic."

"That's right, Albus." Lupin interrupted. "It's a computer hardware company that expanded into software."

"And that would mean, what?" asked McGonnagall.

"This is an overly simplistic explanation, but a computer is like an electronic abacus. It is an electronic machine that performs complex mathematical functions in a fraction of a second. You can use one to compose an essay by moving your fingers so they tap letters of the alphabet on specially organized buttons. I understand it is a remarkably fast way to write. It can be as fast as a Dictoquill with the advantage that the words appear on a television screen and you can change them before they are transferred to paper." Lupin wiggled his fingers in imitation of someone typing.

"Hmph. It sounds like it lacks elegance. I believe I would prefer to continue using my quill with my own hand and write on a nice piece of parchment." snorted McGonnagall.

The sound of shared laughter was heard around the room. Even Professor Snape allowed a smile.

Lupin continued. "It may lack elegance, but it is a complex piece of technology and Daniel Schuler has made himself a fortune with it."

"Indeed he has," added Dumbledore. "His business is one of the Fortune 500, I believe it is called."

"And that would mean?" questioned McGonnagall.

"It means it is one of the largest companies in the United States. Daniel Schuler is one of the wealthiest men in the world," remarked Lupin. "He and his family have their fingers in the cauldrons of some of the most successful businesses in the world. They are enormously wealthy, influential, and powerful in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Their financial resources would probably make the Malfoys look like shopkeepers."

"How does this relate to Avalon College and Miss Granger?" asked Severus, lifting his considerable nose out the Avalon College catalog.

Dumbledore responded. "It relates directly to Avalon College. I remember discussion from an education conference I attended two years ago in Boston. Daniel Schuler brought together a consortium of business people from American wizarding families and convinced them to finance the establishment of a wizarding college. The apprenticeship system has largely died off in the Muggle United States, replaced by training in school settings. It was Schuler's intent to start an institute of higher education for wizards and witches to emulate the American university system. He and his consortium consider this a more egalitarian approach to education and hope it will eventually replace the apprenticeship system altogether."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "It is unlikely it will completely replace apprenticeship, especially in the near future." He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I have perused the description of the potions program, classes described here, and the faculty listed. If there is quality in the instruction in the classes listed, the program covers the same materials as a four-year Master's level potions apprenticeship, along with classes in chemistry, biology, and physics. You may not be aware of it, but during the course of my own apprenticeship, I read chemistry and biology at Oxford. There is value in understanding science as the Muggle world has discovered it. What is missing from this program," Severus held up the catalog, "is the relationship between the master and the apprentice. A master will have no more than one or two apprentices at any given time. This allows for intensive training at a level which cannot take place in a classroom with 19 other students." Snape paused. "According to this catalog, admission to the six year potions program is limited to new 20 students per year. This means 19 other students to share the teacher's time. If not properly managed, students will not graduate from this program with the same level of knowledge and experience as a Potions Master. The program claims it will graduate individuals who are the equivalent of a Potions Master. Since it has only been in existence for three years, there are no graduates yet to back up that claim. The degree offered at the end of six years is referred to here as Dominus Potions. It is new and untested. It may not be accepted as valid outside of the United States."

Severus flipped through the catalog, searching for a specific page. "I have reservations about the program, but I am acquainted with some of the faculty. I see Gerhardt Boch is listed on the Potions faculty. Although I do not know him well, Professor Boch completed his apprenticeship with Master Arsenius Jigger about twenty years before I completed my own. Josepha Ben Ari is listed here as well. I met Professor Ben Ari some years ago at a conference and we corresponded for a while when I was developing the Wolfsbane potion. Both of these instructors have credibility with me." Severus set the catalog down on the table. "I would like some time to contact them and inquire about the program."

Severus turned to Hermione. "I will not discourage you from considering this program as an alternative to a potions apprenticeship. You are in a difficult position, Miss Granger, and if you repeat what I am about to say to anyone outside of this room, I shall categorically deny it and subtract enough House points from Gryffindor to vastly annoy Professor McGonnagall here." Snape paused and took a deep breath as if steeling himself to deliver bad news.

"Miss Granger, you are likely the most talented potions student I have taught in my years as a teacher. You have the ability to see subtle nuances that go into the development of new potions and have the imagination, skill, and intelligence to follow through on their creation. Your persistence may be one of the great annoyances in my universe, but it will serve you well in research and development. It would be a great waste of talent if you were denied the opportunity to obtain further education in potions because of the accident of your birth. If Avalon College can offer you what British wizarding society will not allow, you should take advantage of it."

If Hermione were looking anywhere but into Professor Snape's eyes as he spoke, she would have seen interesting reactions around the room. Remus Lupin looked on, astonishment written across his face as he heard Severus Snape offering unprecedented praise and encouragement to the Gryffindor witch. Minerva McGonnagall sat up straight and puffed up her chest in pride as she heard the Head of House for Slytherin describing her favorite student in such a positive light. Albus Dumbledore allowed his eyes to twinkle and a soft smile to come to his lips as he witnessed his most stubborn and difficult teacher give testimony and support to one of the finest minds Hogwarts had ever produced.

But at that moment in time, Hermione Granger was totally focused on Professor Snape's eyes and the sound of his voice. She had always heard Snape's eyes described as black. They were not black, but the darkest brown she had ever seen. So dark, she could barely tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. His voice had always commanded her attention, the sound of velvet with the strength of iron inside. Whether in his classroom or stalking the halls of Hogwarts, Professor Snape could use his voice to capture her imagination or to fuel her fears. She was accustomed to hearing sarcasm and derision in that voice. Never before had he used it to build her confidence, to make her feel understood, appreciated, and acknowledged as a person. Words of praise she had never heard before, from a man whose professional opinion she respected, filled her with warmth and confidence. Never one to keep her feelings off her face, Hermione glowed with pleasure at his words, a shy smile coming to her lips.

"Professor Snape, I don't know what to say. I've thought for a while that I had potential in potions… It means the world to me to hear you say that I really could do this."

Severus allowed a slight lift at the corner of his mouth and raised his hand to interrupt her. "As I said earlier, this can go no farther. I cannot sustain my role as the enemy to Gryffindors everywhere if it is known that I respect Hermione Granger's abilities in potions." Severus looked back at Dumbledore. "Over the next few weeks, I will make contact with Professors Boch and Ben Ari. I will form my opinion based on what I learn from them and I will tell you what I think."

"Thank you Professor." Hermione nodded.

"Very well then, Miss Granger. I believe it is time for you to return to Hogwarts so we can take Professor Snape's report." Dumbledore picked up the college catalog and touched it with his wand. He handed it back to Hermione. "This catalog has just become a portkey to take you back to the grounds at Hogwarts. I will floo Professor Hagrid and request he meet you at the gates and escort you back to Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll leave now, sir. Thank you all for meeting with me. And Professor Snape, I give you my word that no part of your participation in this conversation will be disclosed to anyone." Snape inclined his head in response. Hermione picked up her book bag and headed towards the back door of the town house. Lupin followed her to the back yard to ensure she left safely.

Dumbledore smiled at Snape. "Severus, I do not believe I have ever heard you praise a student so highly before, not even one of your own Slytherins."

Snape reached for his teacup and looked back at Dumbledore. "I never thought I would live to see the day that a Gryffindor had a genuine talent for the development of new potions. Candidates from Ravenclaw or my own House are far more likely to see subtleties and potentials in different combinations of ingredients. There are few of us who have the capability and it would be a waste to see Granger end up as a cauldron stirrer for a commercial potions company."

When Lupin returned, the four who composed the innermost circle of the Order of the Phoenix continued their discussion.

"Well, Severus. How was your evening with the Malfoys?" asked Lupin.

"It was the epitome of a male Pureblood society evening, if one can consider Crabbe, Goyle, McNair, Avery, and some of the others 'society'. Lucius had a supply of fine Cuban cigars, excellent brandy, potent firewhiskey, and a veritable buffet of culinary delights. Poker was played and, yes I did quite well for myself, Minerva. And no, I will not give you a chance at tonight's winnings. Contenders for the Quidditch World Cup were considered in depth and this year, the Death Eaters' pick is the Italian team over Bolivia, though South Africa could be a wild card team. World conquest was barely discussed and the Dark Lord made no appearance at all." Snape splayed his hands in front of him, examined his nails, and raised his head to the other three. He shook his head. "The Dark Lord is changing how he operates the Death Eaters. I strongly suspect he is planning something, but I have no idea what. Nor do I believe the Death Eaters present at Malfoy's party knew either."

Dumbledore leaned forward and peered at Snape over his half moon glasses. "Do you believe he is converting over to a terrorist cell structure?"

"That seems the most likely scenario. The Dark Lord has not made the kind of progress he expected by this time. Potter's success in eluding him is an embarrassment. Fudge losing his office was a major setback. Minister Bones is not readily manipulated nor is she for sale. Malfoy was lucky to buy his way out of Azkaban while Fudge was still in office. He could never have pulled that off under Amelia Bones' regime." Snape's voice became softer and more intense. "I believe the Dark Lord fully expected to have Potter dead by now and the Order crushed out of existence. With Fudge under his thumb, the Aurory would be completely compromised by this time. I think he expected to be able to move against the Ministry for his overt takeover by the end of this year. That he has not been able to accomplish these tasks with his oldest supporters has caused him to completely rethink his strategy."

"I think I could benefit from something stronger than this tea," murmured Lupin. "Anyone else for a brandy?" Lupin moved over to a tall cabinet and opened the doors. "Ah. Here we are." Lupin turned towards his companions, receiving affirmative nods from each. A bottle with an old label was uncorked with a flick of his wand and four snifters filled with a deep burgundy liquid. Glasses were passed and sampled.

"Then, Severus, what do you believe the Dark Lord is doing?" inquired McGonnagall.

"I believe he has studied the mistakes Rasputin and Grindelwald made with relying so heavily on an inner circle to supply information and establish tactics. Everything is processed through sycophants who tell him what they think he wants to hear. Of course, the Dark Lord has a tendency to Crucio the messenger who brings him bad news, so he has encouraged the pandering and lies. He has realized his mistake." Snape swirled the brandy in his glass, looking at the flames from the fireplace through the liquid. "I do not know if he realizes he is now emulating Muggle terrorists by using a cell structure. He would probably claim they were emulating him."

Suddenly restless, Snape rose from the sofa and strode over to the fireplace. The eyes of the other three followed him. "He is breaking down lines of communication between inner circle members. I believe he is giving assignments to individual members of the inner circle and assigning them a team of newer Death Eaters to work with. The teams report directly to the Dark Lord or through Pettigrew. The overall plan and tactics are not discussed prior with the entire inner circle prior to execution. Only after a plan is executed are the results discussed with the inner circle. The identities of the team members are being kept secret. The Dark Lord has held initiations of new Death Eaters, but their identities are not being made known to all members of the inner circle." Snape paced in front of the fireplace, pausing to sip his brandy. "I am uncertain if the Dark Lord has made this change because he suspects there is a spy in his inner circle or if it is just his general paranoia about betrayal. I have not sensed any distrust on the Dark Lord's part. In keeping with my unique role within the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's expectations for me have always been different than with the others. I am his man at Hogwarts, here to subtly recruit new Death Eaters, expected to spy on Dumbledore and the Order, keep an opportunistic eye on Potter, and develop and prepare potions for the Dark Lord's personal use and for Death Eater attacks. He is less likely to expect me to engage in violent acts and raids because it could put my other roles at risk and he would find it difficult to replace me in these capacities. It is the primary reason he was willing to forgive my transgressions and accept me back into the inner circle when he reconstituted himself a body after the TriWizarding Tournament. This role has always isolated me somewhat from the other Death Eaters. As the Dark Lord is now isolating the members of his inner circle from each other, it is increasingly difficult to get useful information through my spying activities. I can usually rely on getting information out of Lucius Malfoy and sometimes Rodolphus Lestrange. Now, they look to me to see if I know anything more about the Dark Lord's plans than they do."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see no apparent strategy to follow to change this. Unfortunately for us, it looks as if Tom Riddle has decided to learn from his mistakes. This change in tactics will leave us more vulnerable. There will be many times we will not know Riddle's plans in time to minimize losses and protect the civilian population. We cannot yet rely on the Aurors to fulfill their intended function. Everything Shacklebolt and Tonks tell us indicate there are too many Death Eater sympathizers among the Aurors. Sadly, under Fudge's control, too many Aurors abused their positions and simply became Death Eaters with a badge."

Lupin rose, offering refills of brandy to his companions. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I think I've taken in about all the information or lack there of that I can handle for one night. The only idea I'm coming up with is to see if we can recruit or plant more spies at different levels throughout the Death Eater organization. We all know the risks inherent in that. Might I suggest we call it a night and give it some thought?"

"I agree. We need something new and creative to deal with these issues. I'm not good at new and creative at 1:30 in the morning." Minerva yawned.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "I suggest we finish this excellent brandy and head for home. Severus, thank you again for your work tonight. By the by, just how well did you do at poker?"

"Three queens and two jacks will beat out two pair of anything you like," snorted Severus. "After all the years he has known me, you would think Lucius would not let me bluff him like that. Between the lot of them, I'm wealthier by 952 galleons, one box of Cuban cigars, box seat tickets compliments of McNair at the next Quidditch World Cup, and my pick of anything from the Malfoy wine cellar. I am quite certain he has at least a few more bottles of Ogden's 150 Year Old Special Reserve down there."

This news was greeted with a round of hearty laughter. "I will be happy to relieve you of one of those cigars," chortled McGonnagall.

"No you will not, Minerva. Last time it was just going to be one cigar and the next thing I knew, a third of my supply disappeared," grumbled Severus.

"There was no disappearance involved at all, young man. I'm not a Transfigurations Mistress for nothing. They made quite a nice set of handkerchiefs until I got them back to my rooms." laughed McGonnagall. Dumbledore and Lupin exchanged knowing glances.

"I bow to my superior in these matters," replied Severus with a courtly bow and a wink. He offered McGonnagall his arm. "May I escort you safely to your chambers at Hogwarts? While my ill gotten booty is already reduced and charmed safely in the pocket of my robes?"

"My pleasure, Severus." McGonnagall smiled affectionately at the younger man as she accepted his arm. "And if you think a charmed pocket will stop me, you're being sweetly naïve."

Severus grinned back at her as Dumbledore and Lupin choked and coughed at the description of the Death Eater spy as sweet or naïve.

Minutes later, the London townhouse headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was quiet and dark as Remus Lupin sat alone before the fireplace, finishing his brandy.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all of you who have read so far. As I mention in earlier chapters, I began writing this in February 2005. It took some working up the courage to share it with others. Be forewarned, this is a long story. As of January 2006, I have written 62 chapters and anticipate another 25 to go. The relationship between Severus and Hermione will develop slowly, in a manner I hope is realistic for an imaginary world.

The story happily ignores canon according to the Half Blood Prince.

Each chapter represents the events of a single date. The dates are true to the calendar and where moon phase is mentioned as a part of the plot, it is taken directly from the lunar calendar for that date.

Likewise, the Muggle science referred to in various places is based on real science and medical research.

This chapter has been reloaded. The software would not support using a traditional letter format. Everything has been changed to memo format to make it more readable.

Thank you for your indulgence in allowing me to tell this story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have delighted in writing it.

Naturally, I own none of the characters you recognize and I can guarandamntee, no money is being made from it.

Hypnobarb

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Correspondence, October 10, 1997

_To: Professor Severus Snape, P.M._

_Dungeons_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Hogsmeade District_

_Scotland_

_From: Professor Gerhardt Boch, P.M._

_Potions Department_

_Avalon College_

_Chicago, Illinois_

_United States_

_I was most pleased to hear from you this week. Although we have not met in person, I certainly feel as if I know you based on my on-going correspondence with our mutual Master and friend, Arsenius Jigger. He has spoken of you often and with high praise for your work, particularly the development of the Wolfsbane potion. Without doubt, your creation has brought relief to hundreds of fine individuals afflicted with this most unfortunate condition._

_Your inquiry about the programs available at Avalon College is most welcome. I joined the staff six years ago when the Board of Directors decided to expand the Potions curriculum into a mastery level program. Having shared the experience of apprenticing to Master Jigger, certainly a most demanding Potions Master, I can assure you our Potions curriculum is every bit as thorough and challenging as what you and I faced during our apprenticeships. Granted, the program began admitting students three years ago, so we have not yet graduated a class. Therefore we cannot truly know the full capabilities of our graduates. Our decision to include college level Muggle science classes has only enhanced our program. I fully believe our end product will be the equivalent of a well-educated, well-rounded Potions Master with a thorough grounding of both magical and Muggle physical sciences._

_You also inquired about Avalon's Charms Program. This is a four-year program, one year longer than a standard Charms apprenticeship. We have included classes in Muggle physics and basic studies in order to allow for a degree recognized in the Muggle United States. This program started six years ago and we have graduated two classes with a total of 47 students so far. Our follow-up with our graduates indicate that 94 are currently employed in some capacity related to their Charms degree with average earnings at 7 above of those beginning employment with a Charms mastery completed in the three year traditional apprenticeship model._

_Our student body is gradually becoming quite international. 87 of our students are from the United States and Canada. The remaining 13 represent Mexico, Panama, Ecuador, Chile, Argentina, India, Japan, China, Korea, France, Russia, and Polynesia. Be assured, students from Great Britain and more of Europe would be most welcome and it has been in our plans to begin active recruitment activities at Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. We would very much like an opportunity to bring Europe's brightest students into our college._

_I would like to extend an invitation to visit our campus as our guest. This would afford you and I the opportunity to meet and discuss our mutual interests. I can give you a complete tour of the campus, including our Potions facilities. I can arrange for you to meet with other staff from the Potions Department (I believe you are acquainted with Professor Josepha Ben Ari?) and with the Charms Department. Although I am not normally inclined to boast, I would very much enjoy having the opportunity to impress you with the caliber of our programs and faculty._

_You are currently in the midst of your school year, as am I. Would a weekend visit be a possibility? If so, I am free the weekend of October 18th or most weekends in November. I would encourage a visit sooner rather than later since we receive applications for our programs throughout the fall and make tentative offers of acceptance (pending graduation and NEWTS results) in February. Please advise me of your availability at your earliest convenience._

_-----------------------_

Severus Snape held the parchment loosely in his hand, examining it for the second time. Having dispensed with his teaching robes for the day, Severus wore his usual black trousers, white shirt, what appeared to be a very old and well-worn black cardigan styled jumper, and a pair of sueded black slippers. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he sat in his favorite wingback chair in front of the fireplace. A small table, covered with stacks of books was beside him. Reaching over a precariously balanced teacup, Severus pulled out an appointment book, muttered the opening charm, and examined the contents for October and November. Holding onto the parchment and appointment book, Severus rose, went to a writing desk in the corner, sat and began to write.

_To: Professor Gerhardt Boch, P.M._

_Potions Department_

_Avalon College_

_Chicago, Illinois_

_United States_

_From: Professor Severus Snape, P.M._

_Dungeons_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Hogsmeade District_

_Scotland_

_I appreciate your offer to come and visit the campus of Avalon College and have an opportunity to meet with you and some of the other faculty. As you say in your letter, the sooner we can meet, the better. I believe the weekend of October 18th would be satisfactory. Given the six-hour time difference between Chicago and Scotland, I would like to arrive Friday evening, which would give me some time to adjust and get the full benefit from our visit on Saturday. If this is agreeable to you, please let me know._

_-------------------------_

Taking out another piece of parchment, Severus began a second missive.

_To: Mr. Patrick Pellworthy_

_From: Simon Solomon_

_I respectfully request the opportunity to meet with our mutual friend to discuss a matter of some importance. I am, of course, completely available any evening or weekend at the pleasure and convenience of our dear friend._

_-------------------------_

'That takes care of Pettigrew and the request for an audience with Voldemort.' thought Severus. 'Now, Lucius.'

_To: Mr. Lucius Malfoy_

_Malfoy Manor_

_From: Severus Snape, PM_

_Head of House Slytherin_

_I would appreciate the opportunity to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss the academic progress of your son, Draco. I believe our discussion may lead to new options for his continuing education._

--------------------------

Snape took the three parchments, rolled and sealed them with very different seals and headed off to the owlery to send them on their way.

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Hermione Granger missed Professor Snape in the owlery by about five minutes, delayed as she was by her conversation with Madame Pince in the library about two new acquisitions of books on the use of Arithmancy in customizing potions.

"Hedwig" she called. Hermione looked around the huge room with its sweeping windows and high ceiling. Owls of all description from tiny brown owls of Pigwidgeon's size to brawny barn owls roosted on timbers and nooks and crannies throughout the room. A large, snowy white owl flapped on one of the beams in the steeply gabled roof. Swooping gracefully, Hedwig landed on a perch next to Hermione and looked at her questioningly.

Hermione held out a piece of an oatmeal biscuit, which Hedwig nipped delicately from her fingers. "Hello, Hedwig." cooed Hermione, scratching Hedwig behind her left ear. "You are as beautiful and elegant a lady as always. I asked Harry if I could have you deliver a letter to my parents for me and he said it was all right. How do you feel about flying to London today?" Hedwig cocked her head and stuck out her foot. Hermione attached a small envelope. "Thank you, Hedwig. Mum knows you really like her homemade granola and she promised to keep some handy for you. Mum will probably write her response right away, so if you could wait for it, I would really appreciate it. Thank you Hedwig."

Hedwig and the letter sped off on their way to London.

_To: Mum and Dad_

_From: Hermione_

_I'm so looking forward to our visit to Avalon College on October 25th. It's a parents' and applicants' weekend, so they'll have tours, orientation, and lots of things to do while we're there. They've sent me a portkey that will bring us right to one of their transportation rooms in the Administration building of the campus. They've made reservations for us at a hotel located right next to the campus. I'll Apparate home and we'll leave from there. According to the letter, the weather is likely to be warm during the day and chilly at night, with lots of wind. I guess that's why they call it the Windy City. Anyway, here's a big hug from your little girl (hopefully soon to be a college student) and I'll see you then._


	5. Chapter 5

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

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Severus, October 11, 1997

It was one of those beautiful October days when the air was crisp, cool, and damp, but the sun shone clearly in the cloudless sky. Strong shadows were cast off the changing leaves in the tall trees. The woods gave not the slightest illusion of being in their natural state. There were tall oaks and maples, with a variety of pines and other evergreens thrown in. Large bushes and low shrubs fought their way towards the sky monopolized by the taller trees. It lacked underbrush, dead limbs, and the earthy mulch smell of leaves long decayed down to their elements. There were patches of weeds, but mostly trimmed grass, a sure sign that these woods were carefully manicured and cared for.

Two men could be seen, running and darting through the woods. Flashes of light in colors of blue, red, yellow, and white passed between them. Hiding in the bushes, one would strike. A Protego might be heard from behind a tree and another flash of light in answer. One stood, coming out from behind the tree. He was tall with fair hair of almost pure white pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck. Dressed in a white poet's blouse with loose sleeves gathered at the wrists and laced at the neck worn with grey trousers and boots of an exacting match, he cut a romantic shape as he stood in a classic fencing stance. He was turned slightly to the side with his right leg bent in front of him and his left leg extended behind him. His right arm stretched out before him, holding not a fencing foil, but a wand. A flash of yellow light shot from the wand towards his companion who dropped and rolled beneath it, coming up gracefully on one knee with his wand arm extended. The second man was a study in contrasts to the first. Hair black as midnight flowed loose almost to his shoulders and whipped around his pale face as he moved. A loose black shirt with three buttons at the neck and long full sleeves buttoned at the cuffs were worn with black trousers and boots. A flick of his wrist and with a word a blast of blue light shot from his wand towards the other man. The fair man ducked behind a tree and took off running, his dark companion rising smoothly to his feet and following in hot pursuit. The chase continued and flashes of light exchanged between them with the dark man gaining on the fair one as his advantage of height and longer legs brought him nearer. In minutes, the two men escaped the woods drawing up beside each other. The contest appeared to change to a race as they sped across the lawn towards the massive country estate on the other side. The race slowed to a walk as they reached an entrance on the southern side of the manor house.

Lucius Malfoy extended his arm in the classic 'you first' gesture. Severus Snape inclined his head and walked into the solarium. The room was large with windows extending from the floor to ceiling with sheer draperies, allowing the natural light and breezes to permeate the room. White wicker chairs and tables were scattered throughout, along with the occasional chaise and love seat. Potted plants, a fountain, and small statues of nymphs and dryads added to what was carefully chosen casual elegance.

Walking over to one of the table and chair groupings, Severus bent over and rested his hands on his thighs, panting as he tried to catch his breath. The loose black shirt he wore was plastered to his back with sweat. The wet fabric showed a thin frame, but nicely muscled with surprisingly large shoulders. Straightening up, he accepted the white towel offered to him by Malfoy, and wiped his face and hair with it.

Malfoy gave Severus a malevolent grin. He reached for another towel and wiped a trail of sweat away from his ice blue eyes. Malfoy's white shirt was likewise wet with sweat and clung to his body. Grabbing the front of the loose, but elegantly embroidered shirt and pulled it away from his body to fan and cool himself. "Pudding! Attend me, please."

An elderly house elf dressed in an immaculate tea towel monogrammed with a large "M" winked into the room. With an air of dignity, he held a tray holding a large pitcher of water with ice and lemon slices and two cut crystal goblets. "Master requires water first?"

"I most certainly do, Pudding. Set that down and bring us more towels." The elf set the tray down on a table between the two chairs by the window of the large room. He poured water into the two goblets, bowed and winked out to fetch towels. Malfoy reached down, picked up the goblet and drained the contents in one long draw. He dropped gracefully into one of the chairs.

Severus laughed as he followed after Malfoy. Picking up the pitcher, he refilled Malfoy's goblet and then took a generous swig from his own as he sat down across from Malfoy. "Now, Lucius, what is wrong with a little honest sweat?" He eyed Malfoy with a look of pure mischief. "Of course, you are three years older than I. You should have said something about slowing down to accommodate your advancing years."

"I will give you advanced years and a lesson on respecting your elders, to boot," grumbled Malfoy. "I will grant you, I get the best dueling practice with you, Severus. If you ever decide to give up teaching or potions, you should start a dueling club. You would make your fortune."

"With customers like you, I would more likely just add to the nice assortment of scars I already have, along with a sprained back and a bad case of wand elbow. Thanks, I will just stick with exploding cauldrons. It is less dangerous." Severus finished his water and refilled it from the pitcher. He fished out a slice of the lemon and bit into the center of the tart fruit.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, you are not supposed to eat the garnish. Have you learned nothing from my sterling example?" Malfoy said with faux disgust as he looked around. "Where is that dratted house elf with the towels? I give you my word after Pudding brings the towels, I will have him bring you something to eat. Please remember not to eat the decorative parsley."

"May I bring it home with me as a potions ingredient?" laughed Severus.

The house elf made a timely appearance, twisting and turning with a small stack of towels. Severus and Lucius each reached over and took one, wiping down liberally.

"I need a shower, but food first," muttered Malfoy. "Pudding, bring us some of that excellent roast beef from last night." He looked at Severus. "Will you have a sandwich?"

"With horseradish and a dill pickle, if you please." replied Severus.

"Make it two roast beef sandwiches with horseradish and dill pickles for Master Snape and myself. Oh and plenty of parsley on the side and a bag for Master Snape to carry it away in if he wants to make something unspeakable from it. And some of the white cake with the citrus sauce since my friend cannot keep himself away from the lemons." directed Malfoy, sending the elf off with a wave of his hand.

Severus gave Malfoy an amused smile. "I thoroughly enjoyed our duel, Lucius. You are my best opponent and challenger and know my style well enough to keep me humble if I ever get arrogant about my dueling skills. But, I suppose it is time to get down to the serious discussion and my primary reason for visiting today."

"Your message was intriguing, my friend. You wished to discuss Draco?" Malfoy tilted his head to the side and gazed at Snape. Malfoy shifted and picked up his wand, casting a silencing spell so their conversation could not be overheard.

"Lucius, I count you as my oldest friend – by virtue of seniority, not by age." Severus gave Malfoy a wicked smile. "Over the years, you and I have discussed things I would never dare discuss with another human being. We have shared confidences which would get us both killed if the Dark Lord knew of them."

"We have indeed, Severus. It is good to have one other human being on the planet I can risk with that trust. Were it not for what you have taught me as an Occlumens, I would not dare it. Even Narcissa does not know the kinds of things I have talked about with you. I would never dare discuss them even with her." Ice blue eyes met darkest brown with understanding and comprehension.

Severus leaned back and stretched out his legs, crossing his arms on his chest. "The Dark Lord is pressuring you to submit Draco for initiation, is he not?"

"He will wait until Draco graduates. The following week, it is expected he will take the Dark Mark. If I do not produce my son as a loyal Death Eater, it is worth both our lives." Malfoy shook his head. He leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. "I would give anything if there were a way to keep Draco from submitting himself in bondage to the Dark Lord. You and I know all to well the price that must be paid for such a badly misplaced loyalty. Indentured servitude, a double life, one's family held hostage to ensure obedience, to say nothing of torture at the whim of a megalomaniac I once believed to be the savior of the wizarding world." Malfoy's voice trailed off.

Pudding reappeared with another tray in hand. Plates of sandwiches were placed before the two men, along with generous portions of pickles, a dish with extra horseradish, parsley garnish with a small cheesecloth bag, and white cake with bowls of an orange yellow colored sauce on the side. The diners were served and the house elf vanished once again.

"I have learned of a possibility for keeping Draco out of the Death Eaters, for at least a few more years. Have you heard of Avalon College in the United States?"

"It is an experimental wizarding university, is it not?" replied Malfoy with a look of supercilious distaste. "A Muggle concept."

"Exactly, but an idea we should not discard. I know Draco has not planned to seek an apprenticeship after graduation, but he has talent in charms and could go further if he wanted to. The college offers what they are calling a Dominus degree in Charms, the equivalent of a Charms Master. You know as well as I do that the Dark Lord would support having a future Death Eater with such a mastery. This college offers two advantages. First, it would get Draco out of England and with the Dark Lord, sometimes out of sight is out of mind. Second, I intend to sell the Dark Lord on the idea that having a man who knows wizarding culture in the United States is a good long-term plan. After all, if the Dark Lord is immortal, his plans for world conquest would certainly include the United States. If this works, Draco could be safe for the next four years. An argument could be made that a Dark Mark on his arm in the casual dress environment of the United States would limit his usefulness as an agent. Draco might thoroughly enjoy an opportunity to live in a foreign country for a few years." Severus picked up his sandwich and took a generous bite. "Um, excellent beef, Lucius. My compliments to your kitchen help. Where is the horseradish?"

"Here." Replied Lucius, handing Severus the bowl of horseradish. "You believe he would be safe at this college?"

"I am tentatively scheduled to visit the campus on the weekend of October 18th. I intend to look at the programs they offer and get a sense of what life is like at this school. When I did my apprenticeship, I took classes in Muggle chemistry and biology at Oxford. If Avalon College runs like most campuses, it should be fairly safe for Draco. Wizarding society in America is very different from Britain, especially right now. I would certainly recommend he keep a low profile. Though I have lectured your son on that issue before at Hogwarts and his Malfoy ego keeps getting in the way." Severus gave a large dill pickle an emphatic crunch.

"There is no such thing as Malfoy ego, it is simply our natural superiority," drawled Lucius with a raised eyebrow. "It just has a way of rising to the surface."

"Draco would be better served right now with a little less natural superiority and a little more carefully acquired modesty such as your own." Severus smirked.

"I do try to set the example for my son. It is my responsibility as a father to be a role model." Malfoy set his plate to the side and looked at Snape, his expression serious and concerned. "All banter aside, Severus. Do you really believe this could work?"

Severus leaned forward. "Lucius, if the Dark Lord can be persuaded, it could protect Draco for the four years following his graduation from Hogwarts this coming June. If it turns out the education he receives at Avalon is inadequate, you can buy him an apprenticeship for a few years to make up the difference. If the gods have any mercy in them at all, this situation will be resolved by then, one way or the other. At least we will know what the future holds. If the Dark Lord fulfills his ambitions, Draco will have no more choice than we do. If Dumbledore wins, Draco will have no mark on his arm to condemn him."

"Unlike ourselves." commented Lucius shaking his head.

"I contacted Pettigrew requesting an audience with our master. Pettigrew's response indicated I could expect a summons any evening this week. I will present my case to the Dark Lord at that time. The idea of a long-term plan for conquest outside of England will appeal to him. I can sell him on this idea."

"And I will owe you a wizard's debt if you can get Draco away from him for even a few more years." Lucius inclined his head towards Severus.

"Let there be no talk of debts, Lucius. Draco is as close as I will ever come in life to having a nephew. I do this as much for his sake as yours." replied Severus.

"Speaking of family, Severus, have you considered my offer to arrange for you to meet Bettina Amalteon? She could be a good match, considering her bloodlines, fortune, and having attended Durmstrang she is not a former student of yours." Lucius leaned back. "I know you have no desire to bed anyone from whom you have taken House points or given detention."

"As I have expressed before, I have neither the time nor inclination to pursue a match right now. As much as I appreciate Narcissa's match making efforts, my life is too complicated. And I have seen how the Dark Lord has held Narcissa and Draco's safety over your head to ensure your compliance with his will." Severus waived his hand. "Besides, the Dark Lord has implied on several occasions that my single status will be of benefit to him when he achieves his victory. I am to be generously rewarded with my choice of the daughters of wealthy Pureblood families who seek to protect their holdings and safety through an alliance with a member of the inner circle. If the Dark Lord wins, it is likely I will be bedding one of my former students. Perhaps I will find myself a biddable Hufflepuff."

Lucius snorted. "You would eat her alive and spit out the bones. I can imagine a Hufflepuff virgin cowering at the notion of sharing her marriage bed with the Head of House of Slytherin. A most unpleasant image, I assure you. Find yourself an intelligent Ravenclaw, since I would assume you would prefer not to put it to one of the graduates of your own House."

"May the day be far off, whoever my unlucky bride may be. My reputation and the genuine personality behind it do not bode well for whatever virgin the Dark Lord tosses at me. Perhaps I will get lucky and be offered a widow instead." Severus shook his head. "Well, my friend, if I may prevail upon your hospitality to use one of your guest rooms' baths, I should clean up, change clothes, and be on my way."

"Of course, Severus. I will summon Pudding and have him escort you." Lucius rose and offered his hand to Severus. "You have my friendship and my gratitude. I will anxiously await word from you about the outcome of your meeting with the Dark Lord. Have no concern about Draco. I will advise him to begin talking to his friends about pursuing a charms apprenticeship. He will comply with my wishes in this matter. He has no desire to bear the Dark Mark."

Severus rose and shook Malfoy's hand. The blonde man pulled him into a quick embrace and then released him.

"Lucius, I will do all I can. I give you my word." Severus looked deeply into Lucius' icy blue eyes.

"I rely on that, as I always have." Lucius returned Severus' gaze. At that moment, Pudding arrived as summoned. Lucius looked down at the diminutive elf. "Pudding, please escort Master Snape to the green guest room and draw him a bath. Make sure his clothing is cleaned and ready for him when he has refreshed himself."

"Thank you Lucius. Give my regards to Narcissa. I will be in touch." Severus turned and followed the elf out of the solarium.

Lucius Malfoy sat slowly back into the chair. He looked down at his right wrist, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. He sat, silent, staring at the skull and snake marring his white skin. Malfoy leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands.


	6. Chapter 6

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Special thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi forlooking overthis chapter and their comments.

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Severus, October 14, 1997

Severus Snape muttered the passwords to lower the wards into his chambers. Opening the door, the torches lit automatically and a fire started in the fireplace. He pulled off his cloak and tossed it onto a coat tree in the corner. Next, the Death Eater's robes were tossed onto a chair. Severus walked to a side cabinet and reached inside. A generous splash of firewhiskey went into a glass and from there to his lips. Refilling the glass, Severus moved to the fireplace, taking a generous pinch of powder from the bowl on the mantle and tossing it into the fire. A flash of green and he inquired, "Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore's face appeared in the green light. "I am here, Severus. I take it you have returned uninjured?"

"Yes. The audience went quickly and very well. It was quite informal with just Pettigrew, the Dark Lord, and me. He accepted everything I had to say about sending a student to Avalon College and praised me for taking the long view. He was open to my suggestion of Draco Malfoy as an ideal choice. I have his permission to speak to Lucius and Draco about it. I may have added to my credibility with the Dark Lord because of this."

Dumbledore nodded. "This is excellent news, Severus. I had every confidence in your persuasive abilities and as always where you are concerned, my confidence was justified. Is there anything else to report or would you care to join me for a drink?"

Severus shook his head. "There is nothing else to report. It is late and I could benefit from a good night's sleep, so if I may take you up on your offer another evening?"

"Of course, Severus. Pleasant dreams." The green flames returned to a more natural yellow and red.

"Yes, and I will settle for a night without nightmares." Severus settled into his armchair, deep in thought. Reaching into the humidor on the table, he removed a cigar. Taking it in his left hand, he rolled it between his fingers, drew it to his nose where he gave a deep appreciative sniff. "Flama," murmured Severus and the cigar lit. Taking in a deep draw of smoke, Severus replayed the events of the evening in his mind.

The Dark Mark burned on his wrist at almost 10:00, interrupting a session of grading Fourth Year essays. In minutes, he was outside of the gates of Hogwarts where he pressed his left hand to the Dark Mark, triggering the automatic Apparation to the location of the Dark Lord.

He looked around and found himself standing in moonlight outside of a stone cottage surrounded by thick trees and shrubs. Waiting in the doorway was the diminutive and genuinely unpleasant Peter Pettigrew. Severus strode forward, projecting the image of confidence and pride as he regarded Pettigrew with a look much like a Muggle might display if examining particularly ripe piece of road kill. Pettigrew looked up at him with disdain.

"Our lord will see you now, Snape." Pettigrew snarled.

"How gracious of you to point the way," sneered Severus in return. He stepped across the threshold into a small parlor, dark with only a small fire in a wood burning stove to heat and light the room. One large armchair rested before it, a small table beside the chair. Two other wooden chairs comprised the rest of the furniture. Standing beside the stove was Voldemort. Tall and and thin to the point of emaciation, Voldemort's skin was a sickly gray. No hair or eyebrows were to be seen. His face, unnaturally long and thin held only a slash of nostrils where a nose should have been. Another lipless slash passed for a mouth. His ears were no more than slight protuberances from the sides of his head. His neck was too long to be human, allowing his head to turn to a greater degree and at different angles than any human could accomplish. Dressed in black robes embroidered with silver snakes and lined in red, his long gray fingers extended beyond the sweeping sleeves. A ring adorned his hand, the face of a skull entwined with a snake. Emeralds winked from the eyes of the skull and the snake.

Voldemort extended the hand with the ring. Severus stepped gracefully across the room and dropped to one knee. Leaning forward, Severus kissed the ring with an appearance of reverence far from his actual feelings. He raised his head and eyes to Voldemort. The red reptilian eyes glowed as he felt the beginnings of the invasion. Voldemort began his exploration of Severus' mind, unaware that he was being led to specific memories. Severus walking into the Great Hall for breakfast. Sitting with a cup of tea in his hands as Dumbledore conducted a staff meeting. Running from tree to tree chasing Lucius Malfoy as the two men dueled. Cursing under his breath as a Hufflepuff Second Year splattered a boiling potion onto his hand. Sitting in his office, reading correspondence from Gerhardt Boch. Relaxing with a book about poisons on his lap as he enjoyed a Cuban cigar.

Voldemort withdrew from Severus' mind, making the high-pitched noise that passed for a laugh.

"So, Severus, you have beaten Lucius at poker once again? Rise and take your seat." Voldemort adjusted his robes and sat in the armchair.

Snape rose in a smooth movement from the floor. Bowing once again, he took the chair closest to Voldemort.

"Indeed, my lord. One day, Lucius will realize how often I bluff my way into winning his cigars and I will have to find a new source of them," replied Severus.

"I am pleased you and Lucius enjoy each other's company so well. We all work so hard to fulfill our mission it is easy to forget the need to relax and enjoy the fruits of our labors from time-to-time," hissed Voldemort.

"Our labors have meaning far beyond the benefits we see on any single day. There can be no resentment of time given to further a mission which will save the wizarding world from the pollution which threatens it from without and within." Severus inclined his head reverently towards Voldemort.

"Admirable sentiments." Voldemort clasped his hands in front of him. "You requested to see me. Have you news from Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore continues to keep Potter under his thumb. Potter continues to resent it. He has submitted an application to the Aurors, which could be to our benefit. Dumbledore has run Potter's life since he was eleven. Away from Hogwarts, away from Dumbledore's control, the young man might very well decide to sow his wild oats and live a little. With our sympathizers in the Aurors, we may be able to influence his choices." Severus leaned towards Voldemort. "Imagine Potter allied with one of our close friends in the Aurors. I have wondered if it he might be turned if he was out from under Dumbledore's daily interference. His friend, Ronald Weasley, will do whatever Potter does. We could get two for the price of one."

"A possibility worth exploring. We will have a better sense of the potentials in this plan depending on where young Potter decides to live. I have it on good authority that Dumbledore hopes to install him in a residence occupied by other Order members. If this happens, Potter will continue to be under Dumbledore's control." Voldemort leaned back. "Do you have any influence here?"

"Limited. I will attempt to engage him in conversation about his plans under the guise of career counseling. Perhaps I can determine what his inclinations are. Even if he decides to live where Dumbledore sends him, if we can partner him with the right people, he might be tempted away," Severus replied.

"Very good. Make the contact and report back to me on what you learn. Is that why you asked to see me?" inquired Voldemort.

"No, my lord. There is another possibility I wish to discuss. In the last few years, we have been focused on establishing our leadership in wizarding Britain. Certainly very necessary, but when one has a master who is immortal, the long view is very long indeed," said Severus with silk in his voice. "Whether our victory happens in one year or three, it is inevitable. Then we will spend time establishing ourselves. As you have said, master, our attentions will ultimately be turned well beyond Britain." Severus wore his most sincere expression. "Your immortality will truly be the saving of the wizarding world. Never before has any leader of vision had an unlimited amount of time to implement that vision. When your attention turns outside of Britain, the United States will be an important direction to look."

"It is likely my attention will go to Europe, first. But the United States will inevitably be targeted as we sweep the wizarding world in new directions, Severus. I take it you have an idea for the United States?" asked Voldemort.

"Wizarding culture in the United States will inevitably pollute the purity of our culture. Their melting pot philosophy should disgust anyone seeking to keep our culture intact. I have been given to understand that the powerful wizarding families there are not Purebloods or wizards of culture. In fact, the most powerful family is not magically powerful at all and has produced dozens of squibs. They are interbreeding with Muggles and engaging in Muggle business. They have embraced Muggle ways and technologies. One of their ambitions is to replace the apprenticeship system that has served the wizarding world for generations with an imitation Muggle university system. They call it Avalon College and plan to start recruiting at Hogwarts and Beauxbatons in the next few years," confided Severus.

"An abomination. You are right in bringing this to my attention," Voldemort replied, distaste in his voice.

"If there is any lesson I have learned from you, master, it is that understanding the enemy is critical to destroying the enemy," flattered Severus. "This school has the social and financial support of the most powerful American wizarding families. If we were to direct one or two of our own future Death Eaters to attend the school, it would allow us to understand the culture and just how they propose to educate our children. We can evaluate just how decadent they intend to be. Our agents could make contacts and alliances with other students, which could serve us in the future. When they graduate, they will return to us. We can evaluate their education and if inadequate, we can enroll them in apprenticeships to make up the difference. This inadequacy and inferiority can be exploited when we make our move. And if there are advantages to be gained, we will be in position to use them."

"Excellent thinking and a subtle plan, Severus. Even if it is fifty years before the United States becomes a priority, it is not too early to lay groundwork and begin infiltration." Voldemort lipless lip curled up. "Have you a suggestion for which of our young people to send?"

"May I suggest Draco Malfoy? His commitment to our way of thinking and our way of life is secure. He understands his duty to his family and to you as our lord. He has recently begun to think in terms of pursuing a mastery in Charms. His scholarship could be put to good use when he joins the Death Eaters," suggested Severus.

"If we use him to pursue this infiltration, I will delay his acceptance of the Dark Mark. He may be more effective without it in a foreign country. It would be important for him to be accepted by the other students as being of no threat to them. I was unaware he was considering further training," commented Voldemort.

"He is a bright young man and has spoken to me recently of expanding his learning and training to be of greater value to our cause. I believe he has developed some understanding of my role in the Death Eaters and the value of having scholars to conduct research and development in the background of our work. We contribute in different ways, but I would like to think our contribution is worthwhile."

"Yes. You and the few others we have contribute in ways not readily understood by most Death Eaters. You create many of the weapons we use and are far more valuable than just another foot soldier," remarked Voldemort. "I have plenty of Goyles when muscle is needed and nowhere near enough Severus Snapes when intelligence is required."

Severus bowed his head in respect. "Master, you honor me with such praise. It is my greatest privilege and pride to serve you and to serve our cause."

"You have my permission to pursue this further with Draco and his father. Send me word through Pettigrew regarding your progress," directed Voldemort.

"With your permission, during the weekend of October 18th, I will travel to Chicago to visit the campus and meet some of the faculty. It will allow me to get a better sense of how they operate and what kinds of students we may wish to direct there in the future," requested Severus.

"October 18th? By all means, go and scout out the territory. Enjoy yourself while you are there. Take some extra time if you wish. You live like a monk at Hogwarts. Yes, yes, I know you are disinclined to dabble with students and have no time otherwise. You are an ascetic at heart, son. After our victory, we will get you settled with a proper wife when you take your place as Headmaster of Hogwarts. A suitable woman of proper bloodlines to warm your bed, see to your comforts and pleasures, with a dowry or inheritance to fill your vault at Gringotts. You have vision, my son, and are a valued member of my inner circle. Our futures are intertwined in ways which will benefit us both for decades to come." Voldemort stood and held out his hand. Severus rose from his chair and dropped again to one knee, leaning forward to kiss the ring a second time.

"Rise, Severus. I send you on your way with my full support in this matter." Voldemort placed his hand on Severus' shoulder.

"It is my honor to serve you in this and all things, master." Severus rose and bowed.

"Pettigrew will escort you," dismissing Severus with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, my lord." Severus stepped backwards towards the door. Pettigrew met him at the doorway and walked him away from the cottage. Severus looked down at him. "Our lord has directed me to contact you when I have information for him. I will be in touch in a few days."

"Do not hurry on my account, Snape," said Pettigrew, eyeing Severus with disgust.

"I never do, Pettigrew. I never do." Severus Apparated away.

Severus opened his eyes, exhaling a cloud of pungent smoke. He examined the lit tip of the cigar, winced, and looked away. He lifted the glass of firewhiskey and took a long drink, letting it burn its way down his throat. 'Lucius and the Dark Lord are both looking to set me up with a woman. All the more reason to ensure the Dark Lord does not win.' He took another long draw on the cigar, holding in the smoke. 'Of course, if he does win, I am damned at so many levels.' Severus exhaled slowly. 'If I had a wife, perhaps I could work things out if I treated her as a mistress. Install her in a house away from here, visit her when I have need of release, have her available to be a hostess or to appear on my arm on social occasions.' Severus smiled. 'It would be convenient to have someone who is obligated to attend to my needs. And I could leave before she could begin to get on my nerves.' He frowned. 'I would be expected to give her children. Perhaps if we do not live together, it might be a workable arrangement. She could have the raising of them; I would have heirs to the Snape name. I would not have to be there for the day-to-day business of raising children. I could require she have sufficient fortune to support keeping separate households, though my living here is essentially free.'

Severus took another draw on the cigar, now down to a stub. 'Why am I concerning myself with this? It is not going to happen and I need not worry about it. If Voldemort wins, I am a dead man.' Severus stubbed out the cigar. He shifted in his chair, feeling a tightening in his groin. 'All this focus on women…. Perhaps it is time to make a visit to Knockturn Alley?' Severus took a last drink from the glass. 'No. Now that I think of it, in a little over a week, I will be in Chicago. I will be in a large city in a foreign country with all the amenities. I believe I will use some of my poker winnings and make the weekend special. I shall indulge myself with a nice hotel and the services of a call girl for the night. I could combine my business and pleasure, making for an entirely pleasant interlude.' Severus smiled in anticipation. 'In the meantime, I can make do with my own good right hand. Perhaps while contemplating what I will expect in the way of services. I believe a bath would be in order. An excellent place to….. contemplate.' Severus rose from the chair, adjusting his trousers to accommodate his developing erection. He threw the stub of the cigar into the fireplace and refilled his glass. A wave of his hand and the fire went out and lights dimmed. Glass in hand; Severus strolled back to his bathroom, a fantasy already building in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Special thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking over this chapter and their comments.

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Severus, October 17, 1997

Severus checked one more time to make certain the passport was in the pocket of his travel bag. Traveling by portkey, he would not be going through customs, but it was never a bad idea to have a Muggle form of identification on him when traveling out of country. The Gringott's credit card was something new. Although he had exchanged plenty of his galleons for American Muggle dollars, he expected to use the credit card for most of the trip. A clever idea, allowing the money to be magically withdrawn from his Gringott's vault, automatically handling all of the exchange rate issues, and providing the customer with a detailed receipt showing all charges. The portkey to take him to the wizarding hotel in Chicago was a business card with the hotel manager's name on it. A second portkey, a small paperback novel, would bring him back to Hogwarts at the end of the trip.

He looked in the mirror, checking his appearance one more time. Severus was dressed in Muggle regalia. Professor Boch had advised him that robes from wizarding Britain would look completely out of place on the campus. He wore a dark gray turtleneck jumper, made of fine wool, combined with even darker gray wool trousers and a matching jacket with a black leather belt with a silver buckle. He supposed his boots would do quite nicely, being of excellent quality and style. Minerva had transfigured his black medium weight cloak into a black London Fog styled trench coat. The rest of his clothing for the trip was essentially the same as what he was wearing, with one set in black and the other in dark shades of navy. His only accessory was a watch, specially made in the old manner requiring daily winding, since a battery would never work in powerful magical environments. Completing the casual look, his hair was pulled back and tied with a black cord at the nape of his neck. As odd as it felt to be out of his regular robes, the clothing was surprisingly comfortable. He would have preferred to wear his regular boxers instead of the briefs, but the line of the boxers would have shown through the trousers. He definitely would have preferred his own trousers with their comfortable buttons. Zippers should make any rational man nervous.

Severus pulled on the trench coat, picked up the travel bag, the business card portkey and headed for his private exit from the dungeons. He moved across the grounds, accustomed to the path even in the moonless darkness. It was almost midnight in Scotland, which would make it about 6:00 PM in Chicago. The time would work well. He could have an excellent room service dinner, enjoy the book he was reading, and be to bed in plenty of time to give his body a chance to adjust to the time change. Professor Boch was scheduled to meet him at 8:30 AM for breakfast and to begin the tour of the campus. Standing outside Hogwarts gates, Severus grasped the portkey, muttered the charm, and felt the tug of like an invisible cord pulling behind his navel.

He rematerialized in a small transportation room just outside of the main lobby. Snape paused to remove the trench coat, which he draped over his arm. Grasping the travel bag, Severus walked over to the registration desk. A middle-aged gentleman in a business suit was ahead of him. A young woman behind the desk handed the businessman a key and pointed towards an elevator. The businessman departed and Severus stepped up to the desk.

"I believe you have a reservation for Severus Snape?" he inquired.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape. If you'll give me a moment to check the reservations?" The young woman stepped over to what looked like a television set with a board with letters on it and moved her fingers over the buttons.

'That must be one of the computers Lupin spoke of,' thought Severus. 'It certainly looks different than the mainframe at Oxford with the terminals.'

"Yes, Mr. Snape. We have a reservation for you for a room with a king-size bed and whirlpool bath for two nights. Is that correct?" The young woman smiled.

"That is correct," replied Severus.

"And how will you be paying, sir?"

Severus drew out his wallet and took out the credit card. "With this." He handed it to the young woman. She took the credit card, pushed it through a device of some sort, and a sound issued from a plastic box with a stack of paper in it. Within moments, a printed paper issued from within the device and dropped onto the counter. The woman picked it up and scanned it, handing it over to Severus.

"Here is your bill, which I will need you to sign. If you incur any other charges, such as movie rentals or room service, they will automatically be added to this bill and a final version will be given to you when you check out on Sunday. Do you have any questions, sir?"

"No, this looks satisfactory," Severus replied as he signed the bill.

"I see you are from England?" she inquired.

"Yes, though I live in Scotland these days," replied Severus handing her the bill.

"We've had guests from England before and many of them have been unfamiliar with the technology we have available here. I know wizarding Britain and the Muggle world are quite dissociated. We've incorporated magical means of turning on the lights, operating the television, setting the heat or air conditioning, and using the phone. If you have any questions or run into any problems, there is a manual in your room or just pick up the phone and punch the button for 'operator' and we'll be glad to assist you. I hope you have a very pleasant stay, sir." The friendly young woman gave him a smile.

"I will be fine, thank you." Severus picked up his bag, took the key she handed him, and headed to the elevator. He exited at the fourth floor and walked down to room 412. He opened the door and gave a quick Lumos. The lights came on. The room was large with a king size bed, dresser, armoire with a television, desk, and small table with two upholstered chairs on either side. It appeared comfortable enough. Severus opened the closet and with a wave of his wand, the travel bag unpacked itself. His trench coat and clothes hung neatly in the closet, his shaving kit floated into the bathroom, and the books stacked themselves on the nightstand beside the bed. Stepping into the bathroom, Severus observed a very deep and comfortable whirlpool bath. It appeared large enough to fit two people quite easily, which gave him ideas for tomorrow night. Going back into the bedroom, Severus walked over to the desk where a notebook was sitting. Opening it, he saw the instructions for operating the appliances in the room. Turning further, he found a menu and instructions for summoning a service elf. Picking up the phone, he pushed the button "GHI" to summon house service. In a moment he heard a knock and an elvish voice called, "Room Service." Severus opened the door and an elf in a blue bellman's uniform walked in.

"How may we serve you sir?" asked the elf in a cultured voice. The middle-aged elf looked surprisingly dignified wearing pants and a double-breasted jacket with braiding and brass buttons. Much more so than an elf in a tea towel. The elf wore a bellman's cap, with neatly trimmed hair peeking out from beneath. He wore a name badge, indicating he was called Edgar. Severus observed none of the twitchiness that plagued the house elves of his acquaintance.

"Thank you for coming so promptly. I would like to order dinner, Edgar." Severus decided to cultivate this contact. "Do you have any suggestions for anything especially good?"

"We are well-known for our steaks. I highly recommend the filet mignon with sautéed mushrooms if you are so inclined. Our seafood is quite good. Today I would recommend the shrimp scampi, made with butter, garlic, and white wine. The salmon does not appear to be of the quality we usually get. If you enjoy pork, the thick cut pork chops are superb and our chef has a special way with them." Edgar looked at Severus expectantly.

"Very good. On your recommendation, I will have the pork chop," answered Severus.

"Would you prefer soup or salad?"

"I would like a salad with blue cheese dressing. Baked potato with butter and sour cream would be excellent," added Severus.

"The vegetable of the day is a puree of acorn squash with butter and brown sugar with cinnamon. Would you care for something to drink?" he inquired.

"The house red wine will do, thank you." Severus looked down at the elf. "Forgive me if I am making an obvious comment, Edgar. You appear to have been in service here for quite a while and I find your manners impeccable and a bit unusual. Are American service elves much like you?"

"No offense is taken sir. American house elves were freed back in the 1960's. Many of us continue to serve in places we served in before then. We are paid salaries for our work and have benefits just as other American workers do. When I was freed, I took the opportunity to pursue more education. But, I found I enjoy service and returned to this kind of work in the 1970's. I am quite satisfied to be here. My wife enjoys it as well and serves in the restaurant as a chef." The elf inclined his head.

"Most remarkable. I believe you are quite exceptional to my experience and I appreciate your explanation. You say you have been in service here for a long time, might I impose on you?" Severus asked.

"In what way, sir?" the elf inquired politely.

"I am here for two nights and after my business is done tomorrow, I had hoped to take advantage of being away from home. Would you have contacts to arrange for feminine companionship for the evening?" Severus asked smoothly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some currency. Selecting a denomination of generous amount, he held it out to the elf.

The elf reached up and accepted the bill. "There is an escort service of which guests have availed themselves from time-to-time. They provide young women of a certain refinement, suitable for gentlemen such as yourself. They are most discrete. May I make a contact on your behalf?"

"You may indeed. I would be interested in having the lady's exclusive services for the evening. Perhaps she could be here at 8:00 PM tomorrow evening?" asked Severus.

The elf peered at Severus. "I am confident they will be able to accommodate you, sir. May I inquire if you have a preference regarding the lady's appearance?"

"Hmmm. Perhaps a redhead? No. I believe I am in the mood for a young woman with light brown hair. Curly light brown hair, if possible."

"I shall inquire for you, sir." The elf suggested a particular price typically charged for the evening's services. "Would this be acceptable?"

"And does that include a fee for yourself?"

"It does, sir," he replied.

"That would be quite satisfactory," answered Severus.

"Is there anything else I can arrange for you, sir?" asked Edgar.

"No. I believe that will take care of it," replied Severus.

"Then I will make the arrangements as we have discussed. Your dinner should be ready in a few minutes. My wife is on duty tonight and I will request she give your meal her personal attention. I shall return with it shortly," Edgar bowed slightly and winked out.

Severus allowed himself a grin the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland would be proud of. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, tossing them in the general direction of the closet. He scooted up to the head of the bed, pulled the pillows up behind his back and stretched out his long frame, his hands behind his head. For the next twenty-four hours, he was as free as it was possible for him to be. He had a good dinner on the way and the potential for an uninterrupted night's sleep. There would be no summons from Voldemort, no demands from Dumbledore, no prowling the hallways, supervising detentions, or grading essays. The tour of the campus and interviews with faculty at the college should be enjoyable. And tomorrow night, if all went well, he would be thoroughly and entertainingly shagged into oblivion by a nubile young thing. In the universe of Snape, it was as good as life gets.


	8. Chapter 8

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking over this chapter and their comments.

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Severus, 10/18/97

"As you can see, our potions laboratories are state of the art. We have access to the best traditional equipment and the most modern technology." Gerhardt Boch waved his hand around the room. Professor Boch was singularly unimpressive in appearance. Short and round, his balding head reflected the light from the fluorescent lamps above him. Boch wore thick eyeglasses and sported a short beard and mustache on his round face.

Severus looked around the room. The potions laboratories were located in the basement of the Avalon College Sciences Building. There were no windows, as would be expected. But the room was large and bright with artificial lighting. Laboratory tables, each equipped with a small sink and a burner, were clustered in the middle of the room. Lining two of the walls were cabinets. Some were closed and locked, holding stable potions ingredients or smaller valuable items. Others were open shelves, stocked with cauldrons of all shapes, sizes, and composition, along with storage tins, vials, and glassware. Everything was neatly labeled and organized. Drawers containing stirring and cutting implements were labeled. The third wall held cabinets and counters. Microscopes, spectral analysis equipment, centrifuges, and computers rested on the counters, along with pieces of equipment Severus had never seen before. The wall at the front of the room was mounted with a chalkboard. A roll-down screen was attached on top of it, looking like a window shade. An overhead projector stood on a cart. There were doors on either side of the chalkboard. One led to a large storage room, filled with more volatile ingredients. The other led to an eye wash station and emergency shower. Right next to the doorway into the classroom was a shelf, stacked to the top with laboratory coats and a laundry bin next to it. Severus allowed himself to feel a moment of genuine envy.

"I can certainly see that. What provisions have you made for working on potions or with ingredients which degrade in a non-magical environment?" asked Severus.

"Let me show you the storage room," answered Boch. The portly man led the way to the front of the room. Walking inside, he pointed out cabinets painted in white, yellow, and blue. "White cabinets contain ingredients which must be stored under stasis spells. Blue cabinets contain ingredients that must be magically shielded from the artificial lighting and electricity. Yellow cabinets contain ingredients that do not have any specific storage requirements, but are simply too expensive to leave out in the classroom. And over here," Boch paused as he indicated a heavy metal door. "Here we have our safe storage. It is an explosion proof safe for volatile ingredients. Only the professors have access to the safe, though we intend to allow Fifth and Sixth Year students that privilege."

Severus looked around and nodded. "This is excellent. I am impressed with how you have it organized."

Boch escorted Severus out of the storage room. "The laboratory is also set up to create a purely magical environment when it is needed." Boch walked over to the front of the lab to a row of switches mounted on the wall. "All I need to do is move these switches to the 'off' position, like so." Boch flipped the switches down. "It turns off all of the electricity in the room. When that happens, the wards are automatically triggered to reset, sealing off all electrical impulses and shielding the lab tables in the center of the room."

Severus observed light orbs beginning to illuminate the center of the room in the absence of the fluorescent lights. A shimmer of bluish light showed the shields to be in place. Boch invited Severus to step through the wards.

"Of course, the instructor and the students will reinforce or modify the wards as needed. What are up right now are just the basic, low-level magical wards. They are set to keep out electrical impulses to keep the working space from becoming contaminated. Spells for explosion dampening are in place at all times. Of course, being in a heavily populated area, the shields are also designed to hold in explosions, gasses, or any other hazard. Not to the benefit of the students, but necessary for the safety of all. Keeps everyone on their toes. The lighting will come from the orbs and we can add more, if required. The laboratory tables themselves are made from completely natural materials, other than the sinks, which are stainless steel and magically neutralized. There is no electrical wiring into any of the tables. You can see the floor is magically sealed concrete for safety and to prevent contamination."

"How did you come up with the shielding and dampening spells?" asked Severus.

"The Arithmancy and Charms programs were given the task as a Fourth Year project. It took two classes and two years to complete them. Advanced studies classes evaluate the wards and shields annually and they have been further refined and improved each year. I am pleased to report that we have had only 3 lost time potions accidents in the last year. Everything else was contained and caused only minor chemical burns or injuries."

Severus stood back in wonder, admiring the facilities. "I do not know if Master Jigger would be impressed or appalled by what you have built here, Gerhardt."

Boch laughed. "Knowing Arsenius, I would guess he would be more appalled than anything else. He would view all of the technology as polluting the purity of the art and science."

"Arsenius was not opposed to Muggle science; at least he was not by the time I apprenticed with him. But this exceeds anything I would have imagined possible, even after my experience with chemistry and biology at Oxford," admitted Severus.

"I take pride in what we've created here, Severus. When I started here, we didn't have half of what we have now. Josepha and I put together the proposal to the Board of Directors to equip the labs. They gave us every single thing we asked for to equip five laboratories at a cost of over six million dollars. Right now, our enrollment stands at 114 in our two-year Potions Technician program. We graduated 37 students last year and we will admit 45 more students this coming year. The Potions Dominus program stands at 60 students, with our most advanced students in their Third and Fourth years because of testing out of some classes. There are 986 students attending Avalon College. Each of them is required to take Potions 101 and 102, unless they test out of 101 as having pre-existing competency. Those in the Mediwizardry program are required to take Potions up to and including 402. We have eight full-time and three part-time faculty members in the Potions Department, all with Master's level qualifications in Potions. Two have Muggle Master's degrees in chemistry. We will graduate our first Potions Dominus in 2000. By 2002, we plan to add five more faculty members and admit thirty students per year into the Dominus program. I'm hoping at some point to offer post-graduate seminars on specialty subjects to both Potions Masters and Potions Dominus." Boch's pride was obvious in his voice.

"In one year, you will produce more Potions Masters than the apprenticeship system in all of Europe and England produces in three," commented Severus. "Are you certain you will have enough qualified applicants to keep from diluting the quality of your graduates?"

"The numbers of intelligent witches and wizards who want apprenticeships have always exceeded the positions available. How many semi-competent Potions Masters do we both know who completed the training, but are genuinely uninspired? How many got their positions because of a family member with the right influence or a sufficiently large contribution to their Master's pockets? Master Jigger is an exception rather than the rule. He couldn't be bought that way." Boch shook his head. "How many qualified European students have been denied because they were Muggleborn? The prejudice is entirely real. We propose to address that. No one will be denied admission because of his or her birth or status in life. Our only qualifications are that they must meet our admissions standards in grades and NEWTs, they must graduate from an accredited school, and they must demonstrate magical capability as a witch or wizard."

"Gerhardt, I did not come here expecting to be impressed with your program. It has greatly exceeded all of my expectations." Severus leaned against one of the laboratory tables and crossed his arms. "Your facilities are remarkable. I envy your resources for research. I can think of a dozen projects I could start if I had these kinds of resources available."

"Then I have accomplished a good portion of my goal." Boch looked at the clock on the wall. "It is approaching noon. We are scheduled to meet Josepha and Professor Littlehorse in the faculty dining room for lunch. Shall we go?"

"By all means, lead the way," replied Severus.

Twenty minutes later, the two men were seated in a dining room on the first floor of the Administration Building. The room was equipped with a dozen round tables with comfortable chairs. Muggle artwork and prints decorated the walls and large windows showed the street outside. Dozens of people passed by one the sidewalk in front of the building, in all shapes and colors. Some were dressed in American Muggle clothing, others wore ethnic garb. Taxicabs, busses, and cars drove by, bobbing and weaving in the Saturday traffic.

Severus and Boch enjoyed a few moments of peace and quiet in the empty dining room, enjoying the hot tea served by a student worker. Their discussion of Boch's current research project on the use of potions in treatment of plant allergies was interrupted by the arrival of the other two professors. The door into the dining room opened, admitting a tall man in denim with a distinctly Native American appearance and a slight woman in a colorful long skirt and peasant top with her hair in a long gray braid. As they approached the two men, the woman smiled and held out both her hands.

"Severus Snape. We meet again." The woman's accented English was warm and enthusiastic.

Severus rose, towering over her, and stepped forward to grasp her hands. "Josepha Ben Ari, it is good to see you."

"Allow me to introduce Professor Roger Littlehorse of Avalon's Charms Department." Professor Ben Ari turned her head towards her companion.

Professor Littlehorse held out his hand to Severus who released Ben Ari's hands to clasp it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Professor Snape. Josepha was telling me about your work on the Wolfsbane potion. It appears I have you to thank for this potion which helps keep my younger sister sane and safe during her transformation at the full moon."

"My sympathies to your sister and your family for the difficulties brought on by her condition. It is always a pleasure to hear that the Wolfsbane potion has brought another person some relief from the more difficult aspects of the transition," Severus responded graciously.

Boch pulled out a chair for Professor Ben Ari as the other two men took their seats at the table. A student worker came to the table and brought menus and filled water glasses. Orders were taken and the student retreated to the kitchen.

"I have given Severus a tour of our Potions facilities and general classrooms. We'll be visiting the library and computer labs this afternoon. I have also provided him with general information about Avalon and the Potions programs," said Boch.

"What do you think of us so far, Severus?" inquired Ben Ari.

"I am quite impressed with your facilities. Although it has been a few years since Gerhardt has been to Hogwarts, I'm sure he could tell you that our dungeons are quite basic compared to what you have here," answered Severus.

Boch laughed. "You are being kind, Severus. It has been thirty years since I graduated from Hogwarts."

"I would be interested to learn more about your curriculum and how you developed it."

Professor Ben Ari leaned forward to answer. "From the very beginning, we planned our curriculum to meet the knowledge and skills most needed in the modern world. Each of us here came out of the traditional apprenticeship model of education," waving her hand across the table to each of the professors sitting there. "While that model has served the wizarding world for centuries, times are changing the world around us in very significant ways. As we have seen in the United States, Muggles have developed technologies which afford them a level of health and lifestyle which was once the exclusive province of wizards."

Littlehorse interjected; "Severus, if I may call you that?" Severus inclined his head. "The United States is a veritable stewing pot of cultures. Just here at this table we have an Austrian expatriate, an Israeli, a Native American, and an Englishman. We are all wizards, coming from very different places, backgrounds, and individual situations. The world is becoming more and more this way. Five hundred years ago, wizards lived among Muggles without a deep separation of cultures. Among my people, wizards lived openly, using their magic to benefit all. Our non-magical brothers knew of us and we lived peacefully together in our tribes. It was largely the same among your ancestors until the advent of science and technology."

Severus nodded. "It was science and technology which finally drove a wedge between the wizarding and the Muggle worlds. The European wizarding world did not completely separate from the Muggle world until the 1700's. The secrecy laws were not established until the 1800's"

Boch added; "The vision which began this college belonged to Daniel Schuler, but was already sparking in different places in the international wizarding world. We have seen the Muggle population explosion. The technology they have created can match and in some cases, surpass what we can do with some kinds of magic, though there are many things magic enables us to do that Muggle science has not yet discovered. Many of us believe that the wizarding world and the Muggle world cannot continue to remain separate. We are outnumbered by many hundreds and perhaps thousands to one. Their technologies evolve faster than we can monitor or understand. I believe sooner or later, we will be discovered. We will not be able to hide from the technologies Muggles use to confirm identities, pay taxes, manage money, and travel. And we cannot divorce ourselves from the realities of the Muggle world. We have some protections Muggles don't have, but drop a nuclear bomb on New York City and both Muggles and wizards will die."

"In the United States, we hide in plain sight. Wizards work in Muggle businesses, Muggles work in wizard-owned businesses, and many wizarding businesses have a foot in both worlds," explained Ben Ari. I live in a Muggle neighborhood. In Tel Aviv, there is a market place only wizard-folk can access. There is nothing quite like that in Chicago."

Boch spoke again. "Avalon College is designed to change with the times. To produce witches and wizards who can live with one foot in each world. We teach the traditional branches of wizarding knowledge with an eye to history and understanding the fundamentals of each. We seek out the best and brightest among wizard kind to serve on our faculty. We teach the best practices and what stands on the cutting edge of evolving magical knowledge. But, we incorporate the science and technology of the Muggle world wherever we can. With a solid grounding in wizarding magical knowledge and Muggle science, it is our dream that the whole will exceed the sum of the parts. We prepare for the day when the Muggle world will know there are wizards and we must find a way to live together to the benefit of all."

"You pose a radical view, one that would find powerful opposition in England and most of Europe. I cannot speak for other parts of the world. You are aware there is a war going on in wizarding Britain over issues of the superiority of Pureblood wizards and culture over Muggles and Muggle influences." Severus kept his expression carefully neutral.

"You are a teacher at Hogwarts and a friend of Albus Dumbledore," answered Ben Ari. "I have known Albus since we worked together regarding the Grindelwald business during World War II. Gerhardt has told us a bit about what it was like at Hogwarts and how the Houses represent different qualities and in some cases, different social classes in wizarding England. You are in charge of the Slytherin House, are you not?"

"I am."

"So you are expected to hold certain beliefs by the families of your students?"

"Yes."

"Yet, you are the man who developed the Wolfsbane potion, which benefits one of the most oppressed minorities among magical beings. You work for and with Albus Dumbledore during a time and in a place where life is exceedingly complicated and children must be influenced in positive directions however possible." Professor Ben Ari smiled. "Not for one moment will I believe you share the beliefs of those fanatics who caused the war going on now in England. I will believe you must be careful in what you say and do."

Severus wondered at her perceptiveness. He inclined his head in agreement.

She smiled at him. "There are times when we do what we must. May those times soon be over."

Boch interrupted. "Severus. Having heard about our philosophy and the direction we intend to take Avalon College, can you support sending Hogwarts graduates here?"

"Your applicants will know of your philosophy. If they choose to explore the world in light of it, it is their choice to do so. I would encourage them to pursue their interest, even if I must do so in a subtle way." Severus smiled. "Gerhardt, you still have not told me about the Potions curriculum. And I need to hear a good deal more about the Charms program."

A round of laughter accompanied the arrival of the server with their food.

"You have found us out, Severus," chuckled Ben Ari. "We'd hoped to indoctrinate you first before finishing the seduction."

Severus joined the laughter, his rich baritone adding depth to the moment. The server moved around the table, placing plates and glasses before each of the diners. Severus noticed a fifth place at the table. Boch observed Severus examining the fifth meal. As he did the door to the faculty dining room opened. A tall man with graying hair, spectacles, and a business suit strode in. He carried an air of confidence as he moved through the room.

"Gerhardt. I'm glad I found all of you." He shook hands with Boch and looked around the table, shaking hands as he went. "Josepha, a pleasure as always. Roger, good to see you. And you must be Professor Severus Snape from Hogwarts?" He held out his hand to Severus who rose and took it. "I am Daniel Schuler."

Severus quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "I am pleased to meet you Mr. Schuler."

"Please, call me Daniel. I'm not one for standing on formality."

"Thank you. I am Severus."

Schuler took the fifth place at the table. "I see my standing lunch order of the tilapia is ready for me. Please everyone, enjoy your meals. I will try not to dominate the conversation. You'll have to excuse me, Severus. My friends usually have to be patient with me."

Severus looked at him. "I was not aware that you would be joining us today."

Schuler smiled. "I am a last minute addition to the schedule. I was in Los Angeles and wasn't sure if my business would be done in time to join the four of you,"

Severus cut into a chicken Kiev, butter and chives spilling onto his plate. Taking a bite, he paused to savor the special treat. "I commend you on the work you have done to establish Avalon College. I am impressed with what I have seen so far."

"I work more on the financial end of things these days. The faculty have done the real work in taking an idea and making it a reality," remarked Schuler. "Much of my work is making sure the money keeps coming in to get it all going. Tuition does not cover even half of our expenses, especially while we are trying to grow." Schuler looked to Boch who was sitting next to him. "What have you gone over so far?"

"We've toured the Potions Department and had an overview of our philosophy. We were just getting ready to dive into the curricula for the Potions and Charms programs when you arrived."

"Ah," responded Schuler. "I believe our Potions Dominus Program is our pride and joy at the moment, though Roger will tell you the Charms Department will take the lead when we start our six year Charms Program in three years."

"A six year program?" inquired Severus. "Please tell me more."

The conversation about the Charms and Potions programs continued for another hour. Severus listened attentively and asked questions as the three professors and the financier described the classes offered. Although Schuler claimed to be "just the fundraiser", it was apparent he had a solid working knowledge of day-to-day operations of the school.

There were many aspects of the college that fascinated Severus. Having come out of a Pureblood family and the experience of a Hogwart's education and a traditional apprenticeship, supplemented with Muggle science classes, Severus was predisposed to view the College's methods in a positive light. The narrow views of his insular world annoyed him. He could see advantages for both Granger and Malfoy. Granger, with her Muggle background, would fit in easily, probably more easily than she had fit into Hogwarts. The education she craved, she could receive here. The faculty was extraordinarily competent and the course descriptions offered challenge to a witch fascinated with research and development. In many ways, Draco could benefit even more. Draco's life of privilege had sheltered him in many ways. He had little practical experience in living outside of the prescriptions of the Pureblood lifestyle. Sorted into Slytherin with his prepackaged minions of Crabbe and Goyle, Draco was locked into Pureblood society. The multicultural nature of Avalon College would be a real culture shock for him. In the time he had spent listening to Roger Littlehorse, Severus developed a respect for the Native American. He clearly had knowledge of Charms equal in every way to Filius Flitwick, but also had a fluency in Arithmancy and a solid knowledge of potions, especially from his tribal traditions. A professor such as Littlehorse could provide Draco with a perspective on charms completely different from Flitwick's. Away from England, away from Pureblood society, away from Slytherin, and most of all, away from Voldemort, Draco could grow, step outside of the rigid attitudes of his upbringing, and become his own person.

A good portion of the tour was yet to come. He had not seen the library, which as far as Severus was concerned, could break the deal if it was not adequate. He looked forward to seeing the computer facilities. Although he had no practical experience with a personal computer, he had a sense of how they could operate and the benefit to making research and record keeping more efficient. A part of Severus envied his students. With an opportunity like this, away from his own background, his life could have been very different than it was today.

The excellent lunch provided by the college kitchens was tucked neatly away. Josepha Ben Ari was winding up her description of the biochemistry classes included in the potions curriculum.

"Of course, our advanced students will have access to classes at the University of Chicago. Many of the brightest scientific minds in the Muggle world have come out of there. Our students will receive a purely Muggle perspective on the sciences by attending. It is our job at Avalon to challenge them to incorporate what they have learned into their work here. We expect to see great things when our students reach Sixth Year. They will be expected to complete a thesis that must include both magical work and Muggle science. One of our biggest challenges as faculty will be to understand the work our students are doing." Professor Ben Ari's remarks brought on another round of laughter.

"As much as I have enjoyed our discussion, I'm afraid I must get back to the office," said Schuler. "Our newest line of computers goes into production in a few weeks and there are a myriad of details to attend to. And Margaret would like to see me home sometime this weekend," added Schuler with a whimsical smile."

"We should be moving onto the next part of your tour, Severus," said Littlehorse. "I believe Josepha and I are going to take you onto the library and computer labs. Then we will return you to Gerhardt." Littlehorse and Ben Ari rose. Taking their cue, Severus finished his tea and joined them. Turning to Schuler, Severus offered his hand.

"Thank you for this opportunity. I am honored that you took the time from your schedule to meet with a school teacher from Scotland."

Schuler rose and shook hands. "Severus, I suspect there is a good deal more to you than just a visiting school teacher. I've thoroughly enjoyed our discussion and hope to see you again in the future."

Littlehorse, Ben Ari, and Severus walked out of the faculty dining room, continuing with their tour. Schuler and Boch both sat, nursing newly freshened cups of coffee.

"So, what do you think Gerhardt?" asked Schuler.

"Severus Snape is exactly what we are looking for. There is no doubt, he is a brilliant Potions Master and has enormous potential that is wasted on the students he deals with on a day-to-day basis. For Merlin's sake, the man is expected to teach eleven-year-olds. He's got to be a bundle of frustration. The work he did to create Wolfsbane is remarkable. There were no precedents for a treatment of this sort for lycanthropy. It is an original work and I am confident his knowledge of biochemistry sent him in the directions he took to create it, using magical and non-magical ingredients."

"What about political issues?" queried Schuler.

"From what I've learned from Arsenius Jigger and a bit of other research on my own, I suspect Severus got into bad company as a youngster. He came out of a pretty bad home life; in school he was a brilliant misfit. I'm guessing Albus Dumbledore took him by the scruff of his neck and got him out of it. He's been teaching at Hogwarts ever since. As a Ravenclaw out of Hogwarts myself, I can tell you Slytherin House has got to be a real beast to manage with all those Purebloods spouting ambition and Pureblood loyalty. There were fascists among them when I was in school. As Dumbledore's man among the wolves, he's probably walking a very fine line."

"Where would he be likely to stand on the issue of Voldemort?" Schuler looked at Boch intently.

"Publicly, he is probably treading very carefully because his House is full of the children of Voldemort supporters. If he's working for Dumbledore, there's no way he's supporting Voldemort and probably has a role in Dumbledore's war against him. I doubt we'll get anywhere with recruiting him until after that bloody war is over." Boch shook his head.

"I've run the Arithmancy on it and think it could go either way." Schuler looked pensive. "Voldemort's a ruthless son of a bitch and has vicious supporters with resources to back them up. If Voldemort takes England, Europe is next. That will drag us into it. It will be World War II all over again, except without the Muggles."

"Voldemort won't be prepared for what the wizarding U.S. could do to him. He's got such a narrow view of the world; he's only going to know magical means of attack. We've got some time. We'll develop weapons of a kind he won't be able to imagine. How would Voldemort do against the equivalent of magical carpet-bombing the way America did during the Gulf War? Only combining magic with Muggle science?"

"Well, Gerhardt, it looks like you've laid the groundwork. Continue to pursue Snape as seems reasonable. We're a few years away from being ready to expand the post-graduate Potions Program, so there's time. Maybe by then, this Voldemort situation will be resolved and we'll be able to get Snape either way. Whether he comes on board because the war's over and he can move on or because he's got to get his ass out of England, we'll get a quality addition to our faculty." Schuler wiped his hands on his napkin and stood. "I've got to get back to Digital Magic. Thanks for taking your Saturday for this."

"My pleasure, Daniel. I've had a grand time with Snape. There's a man I can work with." Boch clapped Schuler on the back. "Josepha and Roger will have him all softened up. I'll move in for the kill and find out how many students he's going to send us next year. It's a win-win situation. If we get even one student out of Hogwarts next year, we'll get half a dozen the following year."

Schuler grinned. "I'm glad you're on our side, Gerhardt. Well, I'm outta here. I'll see you next week at the strategic planning meeting. Give my best to Annalise."

"And my best to Margaret."

The two men strolled out of the faculty dining room, the satisfaction on their faces reflecting more than just a good meal.


	9. Chapter 9

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Special thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking over this chapter and their comments.

---------

Severus, 10/19/97

Severus Snape was relaxed, more relaxed than he had been in ages. He took another draw on his cigar and stretched out his legs to let the pulses of water from the whirlpool jets caress his feet. Nothing quite like having your ashes thoroughly hauled combined with a good nap and a hot bath to get the stress out of a man. The water splashed and swirled around him, soothing his muscles, melting the tension out of him. He could see the sun shining in the window of the hotel room, looking out the open door of the bathroom. It was almost 10:00. He had an hour before he absolutely had to check out. He could have another forty minutes in the tub, if he was willing to rush to get dressed and the last of his things together. He would take it.

Exhaling a cloud of rich Cuban smoke, Severus reflected on the events of the last twenty-four hours. This was a weekend he would always remember. The visit to the college exceeded any expectations he had for what he would find. The programs were excellent and innovative, faculty well qualified, and any Potions Master in Europe could envy the facilities. He had recommended both Granger and Malfoy to Gerhardt before he left. At least that problem was solved. Both would be situated at Avalon for the next few years, potentially getting them out of harm's way.

He had a distinct impression that Gerhardt was interested in more than the students Severus could send his way. The discussions of research, educational philosophies and the rest had a certain quality of a job interview to them. It did not require an expert Legilimens to see that Gerhardt was looking at recruiting him for the faculty. The idea excited Severus as few things had in years. The chance to work in a cutting edge environment, teaching Potions to classes of the best and brightest the wizarding world had to offer, unlimited opportunities for research. It was heady to think Avalon College wanted him. For the first time in his life, Severus could imagine himself living somewhere other than in the United Kingdom.

Not that he was available. The small matter of a war and the Dark Mark on his arm would keep him from going anywhere in the foreseeable future. But, it was good to have options. And Severus Snape was a man who had been denied options for a long time.

Yes. The day had been stimulating to his brain. The night had been stimulating as well, but to a completely different part of his anatomy. Severus shifted his hips to let the water stream against the muscles at the small of his back. With a wave of his wand, the water temperature went up a soothing ten degrees.

Edgar really came through. When Severus got back to his room at 5:00 after a very full day, he placed an order for champagne, strawberries, a chocolate sauce, cheeses, sausage, shrimp, and crackers to be delivered at 7:45. The evening's entertainment was expected at 8:00, giving him time for a nap and a shower. He wanted to be quite fresh for the evening ahead. He added a glamour to disguise the scars on his body and the Dark Mark on his arm.

The refreshments were delivered at exactly 7:45, including the chilling spell to keep it fresh. At 8:00, there was a knock on the door. Severus, with a carefully arranged expression of nonchalance, opened the door. A young woman, tall and buxom, stood in the doorway. She had a pert nose with freckles, hazel eyes, and a wide mouth set in an oval face framed with a cap of curly brown hair. Severus was delighted.

"Hello. I'm Kelly," she said with a bright smile.

"I am Severus. Please come in, Kelly." Severus stepped aside to allow her in.

The young woman looked around the room. Severus suspected she had been to the hotel before in her professional capacity, but she made it seem as if it was the first time. "This is very nice," she said.

"Yes. I have found the hotel to be quite comfortable and most accommodating. Would you care to sit down?" Severus pulled a chair away from the table and offered it to her. Kelly walked across the room and allowed him to seat her. "May I offer you champagne?"

"That would be delightful," she replied. Severus lifted the bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket and by habit started to reach for his wand. He hesitated.

"Oh, it's quite all right, Severus. I'm a squib, so it's safe for you to use magic in front of me. May I?" Kelly's hand hovered over the strawberries.

"By all means, Kelly." Severus waved his wand and the cork floated out of the champagne bottle. Taking two flutes, he poured each of them a glass.

Kelly had taken a large ripe strawberry and was nibbling at the tip. She looked at Severus in a most suggestive way. He felt a tightening at his groin as he watched her sucking on the sweet berry. He handed her a glass of the champagne and took a sip of his own. Kelly bit off the tip of the strawberry and swallowed. She licked her lips and took a sip of the champagne. She gave him a seductive smile.

"Why don't we get the business part of this over so we can get down to the fun?"

"That seems a reasonable plan," replied Severus, setting down his champagne flute.

"You have reserved my services for the entire evening. I will stay until you decide it's time to go. The price you were quoted includes my services for regular and customary activities. If you want something unusual, there will be an extra charge. I don't do pain, but a little slap and tickle is all right, as well as play with handcuffs or scarves. You can call me any name you like, ask me to play roles if it pleases you. Let me know what you like and how you like it. I aim to please."

Severus moved towards her. "The arrangements are quite satisfactory. I look forward to getting to know you better." He took an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Kelly. "I believe this covers your fee?" Severus turned and selected some bits of cheese and sausage to give her privacy to count the money.

"It does indeed." The envelope went into Kelly's handbag. Kelly walked to Severus and took the square of cheese from his hand. She lifted it to his lips and fed it to him.

"I see you have one of the suites with a whirlpool. We can have fun with that later. Is there something you would enjoy right now?" Kelly moved up against Severus. She slipped one hand beneath his jacket, stroking his chest. Her other hand moved down to the front of his pants. She pressed the hand against him, stroking him through the cloth. "I can think of something that might be fun. What if I took everything off, nice and slow, while you just watch? When I'm down to nothing, I think there's something I could do on my knees that would please you. You'd be completely dressed and I'd be naked doing things you really enjoy." She raised an eyebrow at him in question. Severus felt himself hardening at the image she painted in his mind.

"I like the way you think, Kelly."

Kelly smiled at him as she stepped back and slowly began to unbutton her blouse, swaying her hips as she moved. "Oh Severus. You're going to like a lot more than just how I think."

Severus took another draw on his cigar and shifted in the bath to accommodate the erection he was getting at remembering Kelly's ministrations. Sure enough, after a slow stimulating striptease, Kelly was on her knees in front of him. She took his long, hard cock in hand and proceeded to lick and mouth the tip, followed by practically swallowing him whole. It took all of his will power to hold back and prolong the pleasure instead of spilling himself in record time. He had slumped virtually boneless in the chair while she used her tongue to clean him afterwards.

A long, slow screw in the bed followed her expert fellatio. There was no kissing. Severus considered it bad form to kiss a call girl, but his mouth was pretty busy anyway. Severus allowed himself to thoroughly explore and enjoy her breasts, which she appeared to appreciate. She was amazingly limber, something she attributed to her regular practice of yoga. He found she could move her legs with remarkable flexibility, which he tested by putting them around her ears, giving him an extraordinary degree of access to her vagina.

They took a bit of a break after to enjoy more champagne. Severus really enjoyed the shrimp. Kelly preferred the strawberries. She inquired how good his cleaning charms were. Severus assured her that magically speaking; he could clean with the best of them. That was when Kelly reached for the chocolate sauce. The girl had a marvelous way with fruit, chocolate sauce, and her tongue. The process may have been a bit sticky, but well worth it.

Severus cleaned up the bed with his wand and a charm. Kelly decided his other wand could best be cleaned in the whirlpool. By the time they were done in the tub, a significant amount of water was on the floor, but they were both very clean, and rather worn out. Severus used his magical wand to put the bathroom to rights and they retreated to the bed.

There was a bit of dozing and cuddling where she told him about how she sang country western music with a band and that they did not have something she called a "gig" this weekend. She invited Severus to come hear her at a club in Western Springs if he was ever in the area. After sufficient rest, Severus transfigured two pillowcases into scarves and bound Kelly's hands over her head. At his request, she gave some light resistance to his efforts, but at the critical moment, she begged him to take her and make her come hard. Severus, his self-discipline at its finest, held out and teased and teased and teased until Kelly was whimpering and begging. When he let her have what she wanted, she cried out his name and the bed shook as they both came in an explosion which pretty much took all the blood out of his head. By this time, it was almost dawn.

Severus lay on the bed in all his naked glory and watched Kelly as she dressed. As a courtesy, he cast a cleansing charm over her. When she was dressed, Kelly sat down on the bed next to him and stroked his chest while she extracted a promise from him to arrange for her company again if he managed to come back to Chicago. Severus promised her, but admitted he might not be back for a long time if at all. Kelly frowned, but said that he had been good to her and she appreciated him as the gentleman he was. She got up and Severus followed her to the door. He gave her two large bills as a tip and she promised to take a cab home. A quick hug and she was gone into the sunrise.

Severus smiled at the memory. Kelly was fun and he felt one hundred percent better for her company and the nap he took after she left. Unfortunately, he now had half an hour until he had to check out, which meant getting out of the tub.

Twenty minutes saw Severus back at the registration desk, clearing his bill. He left an extra tip for Edgar. One last look around and a last breath of freedom for a while, Severus stepped into the transportation room off the lobby and took out the paperback book that was his portkey back to Hogwarts. A word and Severus disappeared.

A moment later, Severus stood outside the gates of Hogwarts. It was six hours later than Chicago, late afternoon in Scotland. Tightening the collar of the trench coat against the chill, Severus walked up the path to the castle, gave his password and came in the secret entryway into the dungeons. A short walk and he was back in his quarters. No sooner did he hang up the coat, which he intended to keep as a coat, when a familiar head appeared in the green flames of the fireplace.

"Severus?"

"Here, Albus," Severus replied.

"We have a terrible situation to deal with, Severus. Please floo to my office immediately." Dumbledore sounded as close to agitated as Severus had ever heard.

Slipping his wand inside the sleeve of his sweater, Severus muttered "Headmaster's office" and stepped into the green flames. He came out in Dumbledore's office, brushing soot off his shoulders. He looked around and saw Minerva, Lupin, Molly, Arthur, and Bill Weasley sitting in chairs around the room, looking exhausted and drained. Dumbledore sat at his desk.

"What is wrong, Albus?"

"A horrible tragedy," murmured Minerva, dabbing her eyes with a kerchief.

Dumbledore looked at Severus, sadness stealing the customary twinkle from his eyes.

"Five of our Muggleborn students lost their families last night in Death Eater raids. The Dark Mark was seen over each of their homes." Dumbledore shook his head.

"Who?"

"Nicola Andropoulus lost her parents and her younger brother. Stephen Woodville's parents are gone, but his younger siblings were at their grandmother's for a visit and were spared. Mathew McAllister lost his mother. His parents were divorced and his siblings are all grown and on their own. Mary Ellen Whitcomb lost both her parents and a teenage sister."

"And the fifth set of parents?"

"The Grangers," answered Dumbledore, his voice soft with grief.

Molly broke into tears, sobbing into Arthur's shoulder. Minerva sniffed again. Bill Weasley paced the room, his hands clenched into fists. Lupin rubbed his face with his hand, exhaustion in every line of a face older than his years.

Severus exhaled slowly and sank into a chair. He felt a familiar burn at his wrist and raised his head.

"I am being summoned. I will learn what I can and report back." Severus rose and walked back to the fireplace, tossing floo powder into the flames.

"Be careful, Severus," said Lupin. The others looked at Severus, concern in their expressions.

"I shall." Severus disappeared into the flames.


	10. Chapter 10

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Special thanks to Excessivelyperky and Shandi for looking over this chapter and their comments.

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Hermione, 10/19/97

Hermione sat on the large sofa in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. Mary Ellen Whitcomb's head rested on her lap, soft sounds of sleep coming from the little dark haired girl. Hermione's hand moved in Mary Ellen's hair, stroking gently. Hermione leaned back, resting against Harry's shoulder and arm stretched out behind her. She felt Harry's other arm come around her, holding her against him.

"Looks like she's sleeping pretty good now," whispered Harry.

"The Dreamless Sleep is working," answered Hermione. "She should be out for several hours."

Ron rose from the armchair where he was sitting across from Hermione and Harry. He waived over to Sarah Bannach and Jeremy Philpot, the two Gryffindor Fifth Year Prefects.

"How about if I take her to her room, now? Sarah and Jeremy can watch over her and make sure she's not alone? She needs sleep and so do you." Ron crouched next to Hermione and put his hand on her arm.

"Ron's right. You need to sleep, too." Harry said softly.

"We'll stay right with her, Hermione," said Sarah. "She won't wake up alone."

"I guess that would be okay," replied Hermione. Her voice sounded strange to her, almost blank, almost as numb as she felt. She moved her arm out of the way as Ron bent over her. He slipped his arms underneath Mary Ellen and lifted her gently off of Hermione's lap. Ron shifted her gently and brought Mary Ellen up against him, her head resting against his shoulder. Sarah took the child's dangling left arm and tucked it up against Ron.

"I'll be back in a few minutes after we get her settled in." Ron nodded to Harry. Accompanied by the two Prefects, Ron carried Mary Ellen up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

"Don't you think it's time for you to take some Dreamless Sleep, too?" asked Harry.

With Mary Ellen off her lap, Hermione shifted to get the circulation back into her leg. She turned and curled into Harry, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder. She closed her eyes tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline. Harry held her and stroked her hair.

"It's okay Hermione. We're not going to leave you alone, either. We're going to take care of you," Harry murmured into her hair.

Hermione's mind traveled back to an earlier time in the day, just before breakfast. She knew something was wrong when Professor McGonnagall knocked on the door of the room she shared with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Parvati and Lavender had gone to bathe. Hermione was already dressed and was about to leave to join Harry and Ron in the Great Hall. When she answered the door, Professor McGonnagall stood in the doorway, silent for a moment.

"Miss Granger, I need a favor of you. Would you collect Mary Ellen Whitcomb and meet me in the Common Room? We need to take her and Matthew McAllister to see the Headmaster." Professor McGonnagall's voice sounded oddly tight.

"Of course, Professor. If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll get her and be with you directly." Professor McGonnagall turned and stepped aside, allowing Hermione to exit ahead of her. Hermione turned to a room on the left where the First Year girls stayed and knocked on the door. Professor McGonnagall continued down the hallway to the stairs leading to the Gryffindor common room.

Mary Ellen answered the knock on the door, apparently the last one left in the room. "Hi Hermione. What's up?" Mary Ellen was a popular girl with a bubbly personality and a good deal of energy. She was the tiniest of the Gryffindor First Years and the youngest. She met the birthday requirement for admission by one day, turning eleven just before school started. "Could you help me get my ribbon straight?" Mary Ellen held out a rather mangled looking red ribbon, which would look quite nice in her black hair.

"Of course." Hermione took the ribbon, pulled it under the length of hair and tied it into a neat bow. "Now, Professor McGonnagall wants to see you. I don't think you're in trouble, but I don't know what's going on. So let's not keep her waiting then we can go get breakfast."

"Okay Hermione." Mary Ellen looked up at her, brown eyes full of trust. The two of them left the dorm room and headed down the stairs. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Ron, looking quizzically at the two girls.

"Professor McGonnagall was just here and asked me to roust out Matt McAllister. I found him and he's waiting for you and Mary Ellen in the common room. Do you know what's up?"

"No. Professor McGonnagall didn't tell me anything. Is she still in the common room?"

"She was a minute ago."

"We'd better get going then," replied Hermione.

Professor McGonnagall was standing in the common room with Mathew McAllister. Hermione and Ron escorted Mary Ellen over to them.

A strange look on her face, Professor McGonnagall spoke. "Mary Ellen, Mathew, we are going to go see the Headmaster. Miss Granger is going to come with us. We will explain everything there. Miss Granger, would you please take Mr. McAllister and Miss Whitcomb? I will join you shortly. Mr. Weasley, may I speak with you a moment?"

Hermione put her hands on the two youngster's shoulders and walked them to the door of the common room. She looked back and saw Professor McGonnagall speaking earnestly to Ron. Ron looked up for a moment and met her eyes. He looked stunned. Hermione hesitated a moment, but remembering her directions from the Professor, kept herding the two children. They were out of the common room and going down the stairway towards Headmaster Dumbledore's office when Professor McGonnagall caught up with them. They reached the entrance and Professor McGonnagall said "gummi bears" and the door opened. The four stepped onto the moving staircase and came out into Dumbledore's office. Professor Dumbledore was there in dark blue robes, standing in front of his large desk. Fawkes was on his perch behind him, a brilliant blaze of red gold color, trilling softly. Hermione heard a noise and turned her head to see Arthur and Molly Weasley sitting to the side. 'What are they doing here?' she wondered. Mrs. Weasley looked upset. Remus Lupin stood beside them, looking quite rumpled and like he hadn't shaved. Madame Pomfrey stood to the side, adding to her confusion.

Dumbledore moved forward, leaning down to take the hands of the two children. He gently guided them into chairs. Professor McGonnagall stood next to Hermione and directed her to one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Are we in trouble, Headmaster?" asked Mary Ellen.

"No child. None of you have done anything wrong and you are not in trouble. I have asked you to come here because I have bad news to tell you." Dumbledore summoned a chair and sat directly in front of the two children, continuing to hold their hands. He leaned forward. Professor McGonnagall left Hermione's side and stood behind the chairs, putting her hands on the youngster's shoulders.

"You know that there is a war going on between the followers of He Who Must Not Be Named and the Ministry of Magic?" Mary Ellen and Mathew nodded. "Sometimes the Death Eaters attack people who are quite innocent and have nothing to do with the war." Dumbledore looked searchingly into the eyes of the children in front of him. Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat as she realized what he was about to tell the two young Gryffindors.

"Mary Ellen. I have terrible news. Last night, the Death Eaters attacked your home. Your mother and father were killed, along with your sister Tina." Mary Ellen hands went to her mouth and she started to shake.

"That can't be right. You made a mistake, Headmaster. It's not true. It's someone else's family, not mine." Her voice raised, panic and pain in equal amounts. "Professor McGonnagall, please tell him he's wrong. He has to be wrong," she sobbed.

Professor McGonnagall moved around to the front of the chair as Dumbledore moved back. She knelt in front of Mary Ellen and took her in her arms. In a surprising show of strength in her wiry form, she lifted the girl from the chair and held her. McGonnagall turned and sat down in the chair, holding the shaking weeping child, stroking her hair, and whispering soft things Hermione couldn't hear.

Hermione looked at Matthew. Fear was plain on his face as Dumbledore turned to him and took his hands, gazing intently into his face.

"You know what I am going to tell you, do you not, son?" asked Dumbledore softly.

"Who did they get, Headmaster?" Mathew's grip on Dumbledore's hands was like an iron vise.

"Your mother. No one else was there at the time," Dumbledore answered.

"Oh god. Mum. Mum…" The boy broke down, releasing Dumbledore's hands and curled up into himself. Dumbledore moved closer and put his arms around the child, rocking him gently.

Hermione sat in shock looking at the two children being held by McGonnagall and Dumbledore. Fear gathered in a pit at the bottom of her stomach. No. This is not happening. This is not real. I should not be here. She felt numb as she looked up and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing by her chair.

Mr. Weasley looked down at Hermione, his eyes terribly sad.

Hermione could barely make her throat work to get the words out. Her voice was a choked whisper. "Mr. Weasley, are my Mum and Dad all right?"

Mr. Weasley reached down and took Hermione's hand. "No, Hermione. They're gone."

The moment was surreal. A thousand of the most intense emotions possible swept through her and no emotions at all. Hermione could barely breathe. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask 'Was it bad?' but she looked at the two children and knew she couldn't ask in front of them. The room swam in front of her eyes. She couldn't focus. A thought came.

"We were going to Chicago to visit the college next weekend. I need to owl them to tell them we're not coming." Hermione made to rise. She felt hands on her shoulders, holding her down in the chair.

"No child," said Mrs. Weasley, "You don't need to do that now."

Hermione was distracted by a noise beside her. Mathew was struggling, his voice rising to a hysterical scream. He was hitting Dumbledore, pummeling him blindly with his fists. Hermione wanted to help, but couldn't think of a thing to do, other than just sit and look. Madame Pomfrey rushed to Dumbledore's side, her wand moving and words coming from her lips. Hermione couldn't hear what she was saying, but Mathew quieted and slumped in Dumbledore's arms. Dumbledore cradled the child and looked to Lupin.

"Remus, could I prevail upon you to assist Poppy in taking Mathew to the hospital wing?" asked Dumbledore.

"Of course, Albus." Remus knelt and pulled the boy from Dumbledore's arms. He lifted him gently and followed Madame Pomfrey as she stepped into the green flames of the fireplace.

Mary Ellen was limp with exhaustion in Professor McGonnagall's arms, hiccoughing quietly.

"Professor McGonnagall?" asked Hermione, her voice oddly calm and a buzzing noise in her ears. She felt as if she was watching herself from a distance. She felt numb and empty. Nothing felt real. How could any of this be real?

McGonnagall looked at her with surprise. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Mary Ellen has gotten to be friends with Sarah Bannach. We can take her back to Gryffindor and look after her there." Mary Ellen looked at Hermione, pain in her red-rimmed eyes.

"Hermione? Can I stay with you and Sarah? Please?" she whispered.

Hermione reached over and stroked Mary Ellen's hair. "Of course, munchkin. We'll look after each other, okay?"

Mary Ellen scrambled out of McGonnagall's arms and climbed onto Hermione's lap. Her small arms went around Hermione's neck. Hermione held her close, the two clinging to each other as they both started to tremble. In moments, tears were pouring down her face. Hermione told herself she was crying for Mary Ellen, crying for the other girl's loss. The emotions poured in and filled her to overflowing, the utter despair and agony of loss. Alone, so alone. Even in a room filled with people, she would always be alone. Hermione was standing at the gates of hell as they opened and she stumbled inside.

_It's all my fault._

The two orphans sobbed in each other's arms, the adults looking on helplessly. Long minutes passed and the only sounds to be heard were from the two weeping girls. Both gradually quieted. Hermione started to search her robes for a handkerchief, only to have four simultaneously offered to her by the adults. A handkerchief with a delicately embroidered "M" was the closest. Hermione accepted it with a watery cough. She wiped her eyes and nose and looked down at Mary Ellen, her head resting against Hermione's breast. Another handkerchief, this one with magically winking smiley faces, was offered. Hermione took it and coaxed Mary Ellen's head up. She wiped the girl's eyes and cheeks. Bunching the handkerchief, she held it to Mary Ellen's nose and gave the order; "Blow." Mary Ellen complied, quite noisily, and then laid her head back down against Hermione.

Hermione felt exhausted and thirsty. She looked at Dumbledore and the words tumbled out. "I'll need to make arrangements." Her voice cracked. Mrs. Weasley held out a glass of water. Hermione took the glass and drained it. "Thank you," she said, her voice clearer.

"We have a lawyer in the Muggle world, a squib from a trusted family. You are eighteen, are you not, Hermione?" asked Dumbledore.

"I turned eighteen last month," she replied absently, numbness setting in again.

"Then you are of legal age in both worlds. If you are agreeable, I will contact our lawyer and have him take the necessary steps."

"Hermione?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand gentle on her arm. "Molly and I are willing to help you."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I appreciate it and will be very glad for your help."

"Then I will go and meet with the lawyer and find out what we need to do and what we are allowed to do next, under Muggle law."

"I have a lot of questions, but I know this isn't the time. I want to know what happened." Hermione looked down at Mary Ellen, lying against Hermione with her eyes closed. She clutched the girl protectively, comforting herself as she did.

"And we will answer your questions as quickly as we can," answered Dumbledore. "I believe your friends are here to take you back to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione looked up. Harry and Ron stood on either side of her chair. Her eyes started to tear as her two best friends knelt beside her. She clamped down on her emotions. She didn't want to cry anymore, not now, not here. She just wanted to get away from Dumbledore's office. She wanted to be alone, to run away, but she wanted Ron and Harry to be with her. She didn't know what she wanted. She wanted it all to go away.

_It's all my fault._

"Are you ready to come back with us?" Harry looked at Hermione, his green eyes full of pain.

"I think so," she whispered. Hermione looked down at Mary Ellen. She stroked Mary Ellen's hair and rubbed her back. "Mary Ellen? Harry and Ron are here. We're going to go back to Gryffindor Tower, now."

Mary Ellen raised her head. "Can I stay with you, Hermione?"

"Sure you can. We have to look out for each other, right?"

"Okay." Mary Ellen wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe and sat up. "Eew. I got bogies on my sleeve."

"I believe we can clean that up, Miss Whitcomb," said Professor McGonnagall, waving her wand over the girl.

"Oh. That's ever so much better. Thank you Professor McGonnagall," said Mary Ellen, climbing off of Hermione. Mary Ellen stood and pulled down her robes. She looked up at Ron. "Goodness. You're really tall," she remarked.

Ron smiled at the little Gryffindor. "And you're a regular little squirt, aren't you? I remember when my sister Ginny was your size. I'll bet I could pick you up and carry you, just the way my big brothers used to do with her." Without waiting for permission, Ron stooped and Mary Ellen put her arms around his neck. Ron's long arms went around her legs and he straightened up. Mary Ellen tucked her head against his neck and closed her eyes.

Hermione stood, feeling queasy and unsteady. Harry moved up against her and put his arm around her back, his other hand supporting her elbow. Hermione leaned up against him for a moment to get her balance, taking comfort from his closeness. All she wanted was to curl up around him and whimper. She was supposed to be strong, but all she wanted to do was hide.

"Will you be able to make it?" whispered Harry.

"I'm going to try. You can always Mobilocorpus me if you need to," she whispered back with a quavery smile.

Ron looked around the room at his parents and the two Professors. "We'll look after them. It might be a good idea if someone sent up some Dreamless Sleep. When I get back to the tower, I'll send the Sixth Year Prefects down to stay with Matt."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will make arrangements for the Dreamless Sleep and notify Madame Pomfrey." He looked at Hermione. "I have our agents looking into this. I will provide you with information as quickly as I have it."

"Thank you, sir." Harry supported Hermione as they left the office and went down the stairs, Ron following behind carrying Mary Ellen.

Hermione remembered hearing Dumbledore say, "Minerva, please let Pomona know we are ready for her and Miss Andropolous. We have two more children to talk to today."

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower took an eternity. The other students were coming out of breakfast and looked at the four Gryffindor's oddly. Harry Potter, walking with his arm around a fragile Hermione Granger followed by Ron Weasley, carrying Mary Ellen Whitcomb who was wrapped around him like ivy. Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan approached, questions obvious on their faces. Ron gave them a stern look and shook his head. He mouthed 'later', which they seemed to accept.

As soon as they reached the common room, Ron and Harry shooed everyone away. Hermione was escorted to the sofa in front of the fireplace. She plopped down, emotional exhaustion in every line of her body. Harry sat beside her and summoned an afghan to wrap around her. Ron set Mary Ellen down and she immediately climbed onto the sofa next to Hermoine. She lay down and put her head on Hermione's lap. Hermione's hand moved to her hair, stroking gently. She wondered where the red ribbon had gone. Another afghan was summoned and placed over Mary Ellen. The three reclined silently in front of the fire. Ron was seen going up the stairs. Hermione assumed he was telling their friends what had happened and asking them to give Hermione and Mary Ellen space. After a few minutes, Ron joined them, followed by Sarah Bannach and Jeremy Philpot. As exhausted and emotionally drained as she felt, Hermione was grateful for their silent company as the long hours went by.

Green flames shot up the fireplace and Madame Pomfrey stepped from the fireplace. Moving around the Gryffindors standing guard over their own two wounded souls, she stood beside the sofa. Holding her wand over Mary Ellen, she took readings. Next, the wand moved over Hermione.

"Hermione, both you and Mary Ellen are dehydrated. I am going to ask the house elves to bring you a pitcher of water, or would you prefer tea?"

Hermione shook her head. "Water, please."

"You should eat something. Do you think you could manage some toast?"

"I think I'd just throw it up. What about you, Mary Ellen?" The little girl nodded.

"I'll have the elves bring that, too. Eat when you feel you can. I have some Dreamless Sleep for both of you. Your name is on your bottle. Madame Pomfrey looked at Ron. "I presume I can leave this with you?"

"I'll make sure they take it, Madame Pomfrey."

"Very well. If I am needed, please floo me."

"Madame Pomfrey, how is Matt?" asked Harry.

"He's asleep. Miss Weasley and Mr. Shreveport are with him. He will stay in the Hospital Wing for the night," answered Madame Pomfrey.

"Were there any other families besides the three we know of?" Harry added.

"Nicola Andropolous from Hufflepuff and Stephen Woodville of Ravenclaw both lost family last night." Madame Pomfrey shook her head sadly.

"Thank you for telling us," said Harry.

Madame Pomfrey departed, just as a house elf arrived carrying a tray with a pitcher of ice water and glasses and a plate of toast. Mary Ellen sat up and took a piece of the toast. She offered one to Hermione who shook her head. Ron filled glasses with the water and handed one to Hermione and the other to Mary Ellen. Hermione drained the glass and set it down. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Harry. Mary Ellen finished her toast and Ron handed her the dreamless sleep. Uncorking the bottle, Mary Ellen drank the potion and laid her head back down on Hermione's lap.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Mary Ellen?"

"Does being dead hurt?"

Pain washed through her. Unanswered questions poured through her mind and a desire to scream denial ran through her. The gates of hell opened again and Hermione clamped down on the pain. She felt Harry stiffen behind her as he drew himself a little closer. Hermione calmed herself for Mary Ellen's sake.

"No munchkin. Being alive can hurt. There's no more pain when you're dead." The words felt so empty. She felt like she was mouthing empty words, platitudes. It didn't mean anything in the face of all the hurt.

_It's my fault. It's all my fault_.

"So Mum and Dad and Tina aren't in pain?"

Ron reached over and stroked Mary Ellen's hair. She looked up at him, the question in her eyes. "No Mary Ellen. Your Mum and Dad and sister aren't in any pain at all. They are fine. They're just on the other side of the veil and they'll always love you and they know you'll always love them."

"Okay. Thanks, Ron." She lay her head back down and closed her eyes. In moments, her breathing slowed as she fell asleep.

Ron returned after tucking Mary Ellen into her bed. Sarah and Jeremy stayed with the girl. He sat down on the sofa, occupying the place Mary Ellen had vacated. Harry and Ron moved together, pulling Hermione close up between them, their arms around her. They sat that way for several minutes.

"It's all my fault," Hermione whispered. She wanted to curl up and disappear between her two friends.

"It's not your fault," insisted Ron. "It's the bloody Death Eaters."

"If I hadn't been born a witch, they'd still be alive."

"Don't do this to yourself, Hermione," said Harry, pain in his voice. "Don't blame yourself for existing. Your Mum and Dad would never want that."

"I wish I didn't exist. I wish I'd never been born. They'd be alive if I hadn't been born." Hermione was shaking, her voice choking. Ron and Harry pulled closer, almost taking her breath away.

"It'll get better, Hermione. It's awful now, but it'll get better," said Harry, tears in his voice.

"How? How do I forgive myself? They came after Mum and Dad because of me." Hermione wept inconsolably.

Neither Harry nor Ron could think of anything to say. All they could do was hold their friend as she cried. All they could do was cry with her; tears flowing silently down their faces in sympathetic pain.

Running away from the pain, Hermione cried herself to sleep. Ron and Harry moved back, giving them all some breathing room. She slept lightly, moving restlessly.

"We should get her upstairs," said Harry.

"We'll wake her up if we move her."

"Not if we really make her sleep." Pulling out his wand, Harry whispered "Quietus." Hermione quieted as she moved into a deeper sleep.

"Looks like it worked. Good idea, Harry. I'll take her." Ron leaned down and picked up Hermione, settling her against him. Harry picked up the water pitcher and the bottle of Dreamless Sleep and walked ahead of Ron. They reached the door of the room Hermione shared with Lavender and Parvati. Harry knocked.

Lavender opened the door. "Oh, Harry. Is she all right?" Parvati rushed over, both staring at the sleeping Hermione.

"She's sleeping. Can we bring her in?" Harry asked.

"Oh, right," said Parvati, moving over to allow Harry and Ron to bring Hermione in. Lavender rushed over to Hermione's bed and pulled down the blankets. Ron laid her down gently. Hermione rolled on her side, still asleep.

"It's okay. Why don't you two wait outside? We'll get her out of her clothes." Lavender clucked over the sleeping Hermione.

"We'll be right outside the door," said Ron, retreating as Lavender and Parvati took out wands to charm Hermione's clothes off.

Closing the door behind them, Harry leaned back against the wall. He took off his eyeglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This has been one helluva day."

"I know what you mean. I couldn't believe it when McGonnagall told me." Ron shook his head.

"Did she say anything to you about what the Death Eaters did to the Grangers?"

"Straight Avada as far as she knew. You don't think Hermione meant what she said about wishing she'd never been born?" asked Ron, worried.

"No. I think that's the grief and guilt talking. Hermione's pretty stable. I don't think she'd hurt herself. But just in case, I think we should keep a close eye on things. If she keeps talking that way or we see any reason to be worried, we tell McGonnagall and get her help."

Ron nodded. "Agreed."

"I'm hungry and feel guilty about it. Our best friend just had her parents murdered and all I can think about is getting something to eat," grunted Harry.

"We missed breakfast and lunch. Of course we're hungry. We're not going to do Hermione any good if we don't eat. Tell you what. You wait here and I'll go down to the kitchens and get the house elves to give me a couple of sandwiches."

"Deal. I'd like ham and Swiss if they're willing." Harry rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension and watched Ron head down the stairs. The door opened and Parvati called him in. Harry walked over to the bed and looked at Hermione, still lying on her side sleeping. The blankets were pulled up over her shoulders. Crookshanks lay in the bend of her knees. The ginger half-kneazle looked up at Harry, who reached down and gave him a scratch behind the ear. Crookshanks tilted his head to give Harry a better angle.

"Keep an eye on her Crooks. We're her only family, now." Harry backed off and walked with Lavender and Parvati to the other side of the room. They spoke in whispers.

"Has there been any kind of announcement about what happened?" asked Harry.

"Dumbledore made an announcement at lunch," said Parvati. "He said Death Eaters killed Matt's, Mary Ellen's, and Hermione's families, plus Nicola Andropoulus from Hufflepuff and Stephen Woodville from Ravenclaw. He didn't elaborate. He asked everyone to be supportive."

"How did Slytherin react?"

"They were quiet. It was obvious to everyone that no one from Slytherin lost anybody. Everybody gave them the cold shoulder." Lavender shrugged. "Not that it will bother them. They're probably having a party in Slytherin tonight."

"What's Hermione going to do now?" asked Parvati.

"I don't know. It's too early to say anything. Ron's folks are going to help her and Dumbledore's got a lawyer in the Muggle world who will help her with all the legal stuff."

"Will it be safe for her to even have funeral?" Lavender wondered.

"I guess Dumbledore will tell us. Ron and I have been with Hermione since they told her."

The door opened and Ron stuck his head in. "Everybody decent in here?" he whispered.

"C'mon over" said Parvati in a stage whisper.

Ron walked in and stopped by the bed to look at Hermione. He carried a basket with the food. "Is it okay if we eat in here? Harry and I haven't had anything to eat today." He looked at Parvati and Lavender, who both nodded and pointed to Parvati's bed.

"Let's sit over there. We can keep an eye on Hermione and you two can eat."

Ron opened the basket and pulled out two flasks with pumpkin juice. He handed one to Harry, who uncorked it and took a swig. He took out a sandwich, wrapped in a napkin and handed it to Harry. He took out another sandwich, unwrapped it and took a generous bite.

"What do we do now?" asked Parvati.

"I guess we just hang around to be here for her. We'll have to look after Mary Ellen and Matt, too," answered Ron. "It was really something after Dumbledore told them what happened."

"We got there after they were told," interrupted Harry. "After Professor McGonnagall came and got Matt, Mary Ellen, and Hermione, she told Ron what happened and said we should come to Dumbledore's office in about ten minutes. Ron came and got me. By the time we got there, they'd already been told."

Ron continued. "Professor McGonnagall was sitting in a chair holding Mary Ellen who was crying. Dumbledore was holding Matt when he got hysterical and just kept hitting Dumbledore. Madame Pomfrey knocked him out with a charm and took him down to the hospital wing. Hermione just sat there, looking blank. Kind of like she couldn't believe any of it was real. Mary Ellen quieted down and got off McGonnagall's lap and climbed up on Hermione. Hermione didn't cry until then. The two of them just held onto each other and cried."

"Mary Ellen pretty much hasn't let go of Hermione until we got her to take some Dreamless Sleep and then Ron took her up to bed. Sarah and Jeremy are staying with Mary Ellen. Ginny and Elliott are with Matt. Ron and I are going to stay with Hermione."

Parvati and Lavender looked at each other. "That's fine with us, but do you think Professor McGonnagall will allow it?"

"She can give us detention until the day after we graduate if she doesn't like it. We're not leaving," said Harry.

"Then we'll camp out here," insisted Parvati. "We're all seventeen and eighteen years old. We're here for Hermione, not playing spin-the-bottle. They'll just have to trust us."

Ron polished off his sandwich and reached back into the basket. He pulled out a plate of brownies and offered to split his in half to share with the girls.

"That's okay, Ron. We ate lunch," said Parvati.

The four sat quietly for a while, with just the sounds of chewing and Hermione's soft breathing. They heard Hermione stir and Ron got up to look.

Hermione turned over and opened her eyes. She saw Ron standing by the bed. When he realized she was awake, he sat on the edge.

"Hi Ron," she croaked, her mouth dry.

"I'll get you some water. We've got some pumpkin juice if you'd like that."

"Just water."

Lavender heard Ron offer water. She got a glass and filled it from the pitcher. She brought it over and handed it to Ron. Lavender sat on the other side of the bed and pulled the blanket down a bit. She helped Hermione to sit up and plumped the pillow behind her. Ron handed Hermione the glass. She drank half of it and gave it back to him.

"How do you feel?" asked Harry, who was standing by Ron.

"Really really tired," Hermione groaned. "My head hurts."

"Madame Pomfrey said you should drink a lot of water and try to eat. She left Dreamless Sleep for you," said Harry.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked.

"About 3:00," said Ron. "We've got a ham sandwich for you or some brownie if you want it."

"I don't want anything. I need to go to the bathroom."

Lavender stood. "C'mon Hermione. I'll go with you."

Hermione pushed the blankets aside. She was wearing a long flannel nightgown with long sleeves. She put her feet on the floor and stood, weaving. Lavender put out her hand to steady her. The two girls walked to doorway and down the hall to the girl's bathroom.

Harry stood. "I think we need to get some crackers for her or something that she can eat before she takes the Dreamless Sleep. Otherwise it's liable to make her sick."

"Madame Pomfrey said we could floo her if we needed something. If Madame Pomfrey tells the house elves, they'll bring them here," said Ron. "I'll go floo her." Ron left the room to go to the common room fireplace.

Harry looked around the room. He took the chair from Hermione's desk and went to work on it. In a few minutes, it was transfigured into a comfortable overstuffed chair.

Parvati nodded her approval. "That should be good for whoever is sitting with her. Why don't we do a schedule for the rest of the day and tonight? The four of us could take turns. That way each of us would get some sleep."

"Good idea, Parvati," said Lavender. Harry nodded.

"You don't think she'll try to go to classes tomorrow?" asked Parvati.

"No. She's going to have to see the lawyer with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I wouldn't think she'll do anything until after the funeral," said Harry.

Ron returned with a bowl of crackers. "Madame Pomfrey already sent them up."

Hermione and Lavender returned. Hermione climbed back into the bed. She pulled Crookshanks up onto her lap and cuddled her cat. Ron picked up the glass of water and held it out to her. Hermione took it and drank. Harry took a cracker and handed it to Hermione who obediently ate it.

"How is Mary Ellen?"

"I asked while I was in the common room," said Ron. "She's sound asleep. Sarah and Jeremy are taking turns sitting with her."

Hermione ate another cracker. "Okay guys. I'll take the Dreamless Sleep, now. Tomorrow's going to be horrible, so I'd rather sleep even if it's the middle of the afternoon."

Ron took the cap off the vial and handed it to her. Hermione drank the contents and followed it with the rest of the water. She scooted back under the blankets and Harry tucked them in around her.

Her eyes watered and her voice sounded teary. "Thank you all for being here. It helps. It really does."

"We'll be here Hermione. You just go to sleep," said Harry.

Hermione closed her eyes.

_It's all my fault._


	11. Chapter 11

I own nothing you recognize and simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Special thanks to Shandy for looking this chapter over and offering her comments.

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Severus, 10/20/97, Part One

Severus stood in the circle with the other Death Eaters. On this occasion, he was grateful for the silver mask covering his features and the heavy robes. It was after midnight and the temperature had dropped considerably. Standing in one place for hours at a time listening to a megalomaniac rant did nothing to keep him warm, nor could he bring out his wand to cast a warming charm without someone interpreting it as a hostile act. He was grateful that he had taken the opportunity to sleep this morning after Kelly left. He was tired and hungry and only self-discipline and a sense of self-preservation was keeping him on his feet.

The circle was quite large tonight. Easily forty Death Eaters were present. Voldemort stood in the middle of the circle. He spoke with great animation, his arms waving as he emphasized important points in his speech about racial purity. The Dark Lord had been at it for hours, praising his Death Eater team for striking a blow against the Muggle menace. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange struck a variety of heroic poses as they basked in Voldemort's praise as the leaders of attack team.

Muggle menace. Five families. One senior citizen and eight middle-aged Muggle parents with absolutely no means of defense. A teenaged girl and a seven year-old boy. Oh, and as Bellatrix boasted earlier, two pet dogs and an aquarium. A great Death Eater victory against the Muggle threat. Only a self-deluding madman like Voldemort could see it that way. Only a psychopath like Bellatrix could boast about it.

She did enjoy sharing the details. Voldemort ordered the five families to be executed in a four-hour time span from midnight to 4 AM. One family lived in Edinburgh, three in London, and one in Birmingham. The Grangers were the first victims, which may have been a blessing for them. On a tight schedule, no time was spent torturing them. A quick Avada Kedavra for each of the dentists, the Dark Mark cast over their house, and Bella and her cohorts were on their way. The last family, Mathew McAllister's divorced mother in Edinburgh. Well, there was time there. The family dog was tortured, the mother gang raped and sodomized, and more fun with Crucio until the deadline was at hand. Avada to finish them off, the Dark Mark cast, and Rodolphus, Bella, and their team were off to Knockturn Alley to celebrate.

Perhaps it was just as well Severus had an empty stomach. It kept him from retching.

Severus was certain Lucius was standing two places over from him. Perhaps when Voldemort was done, there would be an opportunity to tell Lucius about visiting Avalon. He had not considered it before, but as Severus considered the events of the previous evening, the name Avalon was auspicious. It could be a magical haven where a few of his students might go to be safely away from this insanity. Draco would certainly go. He hoped Granger would as well.

In spite of the murder of her parents or perhaps because of it, Granger would be best away from all of this. Severus did not think she would be impulsive enough to seek revenge, but her two idiot friends certainly were. Harry Potter had not done well against Bellatrix before in the battle at the Ministry of Magic. He did not think Potter had it in him to be as brutally ruthless as it would take to bring down Bellatrix in a duel. She had no sense of honor. She would do whatever it took, using the darkest weapons in her arsenal to win. A woman who could encourage her husband to rape and sodomize a victim in her presence was no one to trifle with.

Severus wished again that Voldemort would just finish. Then he could go home and make his report to Dumbledore and go to bed. Dreamless Sleep would be a good choice for tonight, were it not for the fact that he had to be up no later than seven in the morning to be ready to teach classes today. At least the classes were First and Second Years. He could substitute busy work for today's lesson plan if he was too tired to stay focused. Damn. First Year Gryffindor and Slytherin today. Mary Ellen Whitcomb would not be in class. He would have to be alert to attempts by Gryffindors to seek revenge on Slytherin. Severus decided to hold a House meeting tonight. Gryffindor saw three of their Housemates lose their families and would be primed for revenge. Slytherins would feel the backlash from it, innocent and guilty alike. They would need his support and he needed to build their support for each other. Politics. The damn House system fostered it and it was the last thing these children needed.

Voldemort appeared to be winding down. He called Bellatrix and Rodolphus forward to take another round of applause from the circle. Severus went through the motions, trying to look enthusiastic. Voldemort thanked his loyal Death Eaters, promised that the world would one day belong to them; they would all be richly rewarded, and dismissed them for the evening until their next glorious victory.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief. He had no wish for an audience with Voldemort tonight. There would certainly be one this week and he was grateful for the reprieve. Severus began to walk away. Another Death Eater, falling into step with Severus, joined him.

"Tonight was most inspiring, was it not?" said Lucius, loud enough to be heard by any eavesdroppers. "It has been some time since the Dark Lord authorized such a public strike against Muggleborns."

"Indeed," answered Severus. "It is an equally public strike against Dumbledore, the old fool. I daresay there will be students withdrawn from Hogwarts over this."

"Only those who never belonged at Hogwarts in the first place will be affected," Lucius hand went to Severus' shoulder for effect. "Our world will be a step closer to the purity we have striven for all these years."

"Under the Dark Lord's leadership, may that day arrive soon."

By this time, most of the other Death Eaters had apparated away. Severus and Lucius were standing at a considerable distance from those who remained.

"The future is looking brighter, Lucius," added Severus.

"I am most pleased to hear that. With activities picking up, perhaps we should have another dueling practice?" suggested Malfoy.

"I believe I will be free next Sunday."

"Then Narcissa and I will expect you to stay for dinner."

The two men vanished beneath the moon.

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Severus tossed his Death Eater's robes and mask onto the sofa in the sitting room. Tossing powder into the fireplace, he stepped in, "Headmaster's office," and stepped out into Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, with McGonagall, and Lupin sitting in two of the three chairs in front of the desk. Severus took the third. Dumbledore's desk was littered with parchments. Apparently, the owls had been quite busy delivering messages.

"I am quite famished, Albus. May I request something from the house elves before I begin my report?" sighed Severus.

"Allow me, Severus," interrupted Minerva. "Would a couple of sandwiches do?"

"An excellent start. You know what I like, Minerva. I will trust your judgment."

She smiled at Severus and rose to go to the fireplace to order the food. Remus offered Severus a cup of tea. Severus nodded his thanks.

"What do you have to tell us, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

"Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange headed the mission. The Dark Lord gave them four hours from start to finish to complete the raids and report back to him. They began with the Grangers and other two families in London, then went on to Birmingham, and finished in Edinburgh. I presume you have gotten reports about causes of death for all of the victims?"

"Yes, we have," answered Remus. "It looks like Avada Kedavra for the first four families. There was unspeakable violence against Mrs. McAllister."

"There was enough time at the end for Bellatrix to encourage Rodolphus and the members of their team to brutalize the woman before killing her. She boasted of it." Severus shook his head in disgust. "She has the sickest mind of any human being I have ever met. Her time in Azkaban seems to have only served to make it worse."

"Do you know why these particular families were chosen, beyond the obvious point of being parents of Muggleborns?" asked Minerva. The house elf arrived with a covered plate. Minerva removed the cover, took the plate with two roast beef sandwiches on it and placed it before Severus. He gave her a grateful look as he dug into one of them. He chewed, swallowed, and answered.

"From what the Dark Lord said, the parents were chosen because of their own affluence or success in the Muggle world. His intent is to frighten the families of Muggleborns into withdrawing their children from Hogwarts and the wizarding world. The message is essentially; if prominent Muggles cannot defend their families against Death Eaters, they had best stay out of the wizarding world."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Riddle may have achieved some success with his plan. Miss Andropolous' grandparents have been contacted. They have directed us to return her and her possessions on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. They will be traveling to London tomorrow to transport their family members' remains back to Greece for burial. They will be taking her back to Greece with them."

"Their response is not surprising," said Severus between bites. "How are the other families responding?"

"Miss Whitcomb has virtually no family left," responded Minerva. "Her mother has a brother, but he is in prison for selling illegal drugs."

Dumbledore nodded. "We may be able to make provisions for Miss Whitcomb. A few trusted families have already stepped forward to make offers to take her in, which we will explore over the next few weeks. I am confident the Wizengamot can be prevailed upon to give us temporary guardianship while it is settled."

"Mr. McAllister is a different case in point," said Minerva. "He is still in the hospital wing under sedation. He has been quite violent in his expression of grief. We have communicated with his oldest sister, who has asked us to keep him for a few days. Because of the extremely violent nature of the crime, the police are heavily involved. He already suffers from depression. I fear for Mr. McAllister's mental health when he learns of how his mother and their dog were killed."

"What about Woodville?" asked Severus.

"He has grandparents still alive on his father's side. They are quite elderly and distraught by what has happened. They are keeping Woodville's sister and brother with them. As with the Grangers, the determination has been made that the parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning due to a faulty furnace," answered Dumbledore. "There will be limited police involvement under the circumstances. Mr. Woodville has expressed a strong desire to stay at Hogwarts."

"How is Miss Granger?"

"Your Dreamless Sleep potion has her right now. She was quite shaken by the news, but she is a strong young woman. Arthur and Molly came as soon as word got out of what happened. Arthur broke the news to her, for which I am grateful," Dumbledore's shoulders slumped. "I believe I have broken enough children's hearts for one day." Minerva reached over and took his hand, giving him a gentle look.

"We do the best we can, Albus. We will be here for these children as we have been here for the others before them," counseled Minerva.

"We share too many such memories, Minerva," answered Dumbledore. He shrugged his shoulders. "Miss Granger has good friends. They are watching over her in Gryffindor Tower, even as we speak. I believe a blind eye is being turned to the infraction of two young men camping out in the Seventh Year girls' room."

"For tonight, at least," Minerva responded.

"Albus, you must speak to Potter and Weasley. They must not attempt to seek revenge for this. It could only end in disaster," emphasized Severus.

"I quite agree, son. We will meet with them tomorrow to discuss it." Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "We have made changes in the regular schedule for tomorrow. Everything is in such disarray with students, families, and faculty tied up in dealing with all of this. I have cancelled regular classes. Tomorrow morning, breakfast will be served in the common rooms of each of the Houses to be followed by House meetings. I know our Slytherins are going to be badly in need of the counsel of their Head of House." Dumbledore inclined his head respectfully to Severus. Severus nodded agreement.

"Minerva, Filius, Pomona, and myself will be quite busy dealing with arrangements for our five victimized students. Hagrid will take responsibility for the First and Second Years, with help from our current roster of apprentices. He has assembled a veritable petting zoo of magical and non-magical animals to keep them busy. Professors Sinistra, Trelawney, and Binns will take Third, Fourth, and Fifth Years. They are planning academic contests and games for them. Severus, I was hoping you would be willing to work with Vector and Bill Weasley to manage the Sixth and Seventh Years. A day of intensive Defense Against the Dark Arts and dueling practice may help them expend excessive energy and emotion."

Severus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Of course, Albus. I would thoroughly enjoy the challenge. But, where is our esteemed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

Albus, Minerva, and Remus exchanged meaningful looks. Dumbledore answered, "Professor DaVinci is in the hospital wing. He had a bit of a run in with a centaur in the Forbidden Forest. Madame Pomfrey is helping him to regrow the bones in his left leg."

Severus raised both eyebrows in emphasis and shook his head in disgust.

"I believe all of us are overdue for sleep. Breakfast will be at 8 AM, so I suggest we try to get what rest we can until then," advised Dumbledore. "Remus, thank you for your efforts throughout today. Your contacts with the Muggle police departments were invaluable."

"You're welcome, Albus. I'll stay on top of things and expect to be in London and Edinburgh tomorrow. Will there be an Order meeting tomorrow evening?" asked Remus.

"I believe one is in order. It will be a chance to pull our intelligence together," answered Dumbledore.

Good evenings were said and the four went to their respective quarters for the night. In his gray nightshirt, Severus eyed the Dreamless Sleep potion for a moment. Setting temptation aside, he turned over and closed his eyes.

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Author's note

This is the first fiction I've written since college (and we won't be talking about how long ago that was). It is very different from my non-fiction work and I'll confess to being nervous about actually letting anyone see it. Since posting it here, I've gotten reviews and feedback, which is greatly appreciated. A few have asked if this is going to be a HG/DM pairing. It is definitely not going to pair up Hermione with Draco. This is an SS/HG fiction, but their relationship evolves slowly. There's a lot that happens to each of them along the way before they grow into it.

Yes, Chapter 10 was intended to make the reader cry. As an author, I did my job properly if your heart broke along with Hermione, Mary Ellen, and Matt. Their grief is profound and their lives will never be the same.

I've also gotten feedback that I may have gone into too much background detail in the first few chapters. As I've reread them, I think that criticism is right on target. I probably did it more for my need to establish the characters and the setting than what the readers needed. Thank you for your feedback. It is appreciated and will improve the quality of future work. Thank you to the following for your reviews: Val'istar En'Alu, Septentrion, Aldara, Claribel, Severus-Fan, Squeaker19450, Shdwcat27, Princess-nyx, Gin, Princessfiona, Teri, Selinabln, and Rageful Jewel. I deeply appreciate your willingness to take the time to communicate with a nervous author and offer a confidence boost. Thank you to many friends from WIKTT who have read and offered encouragement. Oh yes, I will post regularly. I'm going back to work on chapter 63 right now.


	12. Chapter 12

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Shandy for looking over this chapter and offering comments.

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Severus 10/20/97, Part Two

Morning arrived all too soon, accompanied by breakfast with his House in the Slytherin common room. Later, when Severus reflected on the events of the day, he decided it was a wise decision on Dumbledore's part to keep the Houses separated first thing in the morning. Several of his students complained about treatment they received Sunday from other students, particularly from the Gryffindors. Severus gave them a chance to vent and then presented them with the realities of the situation. He pointed out that there was clear evidence of Death Eater involvement in the murders of the families and regardless of the political leanings of individual Slytherins and their families; five of their classmates were now orphans. Severus reiterated that Gryffindor was most devastated by the attacks and Gryffindors tended to paint all Slytherins with a single brush. "Carry yourselves with dignity," counseled Severus. "Do nothing to provoke your classmates on this matter, no matter how they behave. It will only start a cycle of retaliation that could result in the other three Houses aligning themselves against one. Three against one are a fool's odds and Slytherins are never fools."

Severus further advised them to think in terms of the internal politics of Hogwarts in their behavior and the long-term effects of what they might do now. In typical Slytherin fashion, he suggested his students show respect in word and deed to the victims. "To give the impression of empathy is not a weakness when demonstrated in the right time and place. It costs you little, can gain you a useful ally later on and gives your enemies nothing to criticize you for. It is to your political benefit to show courtesy and consideration to the victims."

Fortunately, most of the Slytherins were sufficiently astute to understand Severus' point. The ones who were not, such as Crabbe and Goyle, were controlled by Malfoy and a few of the more influential Slytherins who would keep them in line.

Severus sent his students off to their special classes, feeling that damage control had begun.

The special classes started at 9:00. Severus took the lead in the special Defense Against the Dark Arts program. He knew Arithmancer and scholar Alan Vector would be little more than a live professorial body in the room, but Bill Weasley could carry his own weight and had much to contribute given his years of experience as a Gringott's curse breaker. As Severus surveyed the Sixth and Seventh Years gathered in the Room of Requirement, he noted the clusters. The Slytherins were isolated from the others. Malfoy held court as the current alpha male of Slytherin, his minions gathered around him. The other notable cluster was from Gryffindor. Their friends surrounded Potter and Weasley, with Granger noticeably missing from the group. They were much more subdued than usual. Interestingly, several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were standing with Potter's group. All of them were former members of Dumbledore's Army, the DADA club Potter had started during Umbridge's reign of terror during their Fifth Year. Severus would have to be very careful in assigning partners for dueling.

Severus introduced Bill Weasley to the crowd. He snorted when he saw the highly predictable reaction of the female portion of the student body to the handsome young man. Hormones would be raging tonight. He noticed some of Ron Weasley's friends elbowing him and teasing about his older brother functioning as a professor for a day.

Professor Snape walked over to a large wooden chest sitting on a table at the front of the room. He opened the chest and removed a blue badge, shaped rather like the Hogwarts' crest. Holding it out where the students could see it, Severus began.

"This is a dueling badge." Severus, always a master at manipulating a crowd, kept his voice low and compelling. The room quieted immediately. "I daresay most of you have never had the opportunity to wear one. A dueling badge is a part of the ancient wizarding dueling tradition. It is a training device, allowing dueling practice without actual lasting harm to the participants. The dueling badge is activated by a charm and by opponents tapping wands on each other's badges. It works because the dueling partners have consented to have it work and will work only between them. Once activated, partners using paired badges may duel using hexes short of Unforgiveables without being injured. The badge provides both shielding and dampening to spells to prevent injuries. The badge counts the strikes, including the type of hex and the amount of damage that would have been done if the hex had actually connected. Each of you will take one of these badges and put it on. Professor Vector, Mr. Weasley, and I will assign you partners. We will then begin drills.

Severus stepped back and called Vector and Weasley over. The three discussed assignments and moved through the crowd, passing out badges. Partners were assigned from within houses, pairing up friends to take no chance of inter-house conflict breaking out during the drills.

Bill Weasley took the lead during the drills, much to the delight of the female population. He ably demonstrated and coached the students as they practiced casting hexes and shielding against them. Using his experience from Egypt, he demonstrated a few curse detection spells he had learned or modified for his own use. The charismatic young man held the attention of the class right up until lunchtime. Bill stood at the front of the room and addressed the class.

"This morning, you have practiced standard attack and defensive moves. This afternoon, we will move practice to the outdoors. Most formal dueling actually occurs outdoors. There are few buildings large enough to hold actual duels, let alone keep from being badly damaged in the process. Professor Snape, Professor Vector, and I are going to set up protective shields around the Quidditch pitch. We expect you to report there after lunch. It is chilly outside, so I suggest warm jackets and layers you can remove if you get too hot from all of the running around you're likely to do. Don't eat a heavy lunch if you're at all prone to puking up your guts when things get physically strenuous." Weasley gave them one of his charming grins. "Class dismissed." The crowd headed out the door in the general direction of the Great Hall.

Bill Weasley turned to Severus and laughed. "I always wanted to be able to say that."

Severus gave him an amused look. "I am glad we were able to fulfill one of your life ambitions." He paused. "You did a very good job this morning, Bill."

"Thank you Severus. This was fun."

Vector approached to the two men. "Shall we go get some lunch and then do the wards?"

"By all means, Alan. Please lead the way," answered Severus.

At 1:00, the class reconvened on the Quidditch pitch. Severus and Bill had spent the last of the lunch hour setting up protective wards around the structures to protect them from stray hexes and careless students. Vector transfigured sand from the field into boulders and imitation trees to set up obstacles and protective cover.

Professor Snape cast a charm on himself so he could project his voice throughout the stadium.

"Your attention, please."

The students crowded around the three instructors.

"This afternoon, we will engage in actual dueling. Your badges will provide you with protection from damage from hexes cast, but will count all hits. As you complete your dueling run with your partner, you will report to Professor Vector who will record your results." Severus continued. "As you can see, an obstacle course has been set up. The beginning of the course is over by the Hufflepuff stand." Severus pointed to two boulders. "Each pair will start at those boulders. Your task is to run the obstacle course and prevent your partner from reaching the end of the course as represented by the tree at the Ravenclaw stand. Prevention is defined by scoring enough hits to incapacitate your opponent as determined by your dueling badge. You will have five minutes to complete the course. It is not a running race. If you simply outrun your partner without scoring hits, you will lose."

"I will refresh your memories on a few important points Mr. Weasley gave you this morning. First, never turn your back to an opponent. Second, it is easier to duck a hex than to set up a shield against one. Third, never assume because an opponent is down that he is out."

"We will begin with the Sixth Years. Hufflepuffs, please line up with your partners. The rest of you may go into the stands and watch. There will be no yelling, coaching, booing, or any other distractions from the sidelines. I expect good sportsmanship from everyone. Take your places, please."

The three instructors watched as the students took their places. Vector headed over to the finish line. Weasley and Snape looked over the crowd. Severus nodded to Bill who held out his hand.

"Accio Nimbus 2000," said Bill. Severus' broom, which had been lying to the side of the pitch, flew into his hand. Bill mounted and took off, circling over the obstacle course. Severus walked over to the starting position. The first two Hufflepuffs for the obstacle course were in place. Pulling a whistle out of his pocket, Severus waved at the crowd in the stands, which immediately quieted. He blew the whistle and gave a 'go' hand signal. The two Hufflepuffs were off.

An hour and a half later, Severus concluded that he had never seen such uninspired dueling in his life. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw performed no better than he had anticipated from those Houses. They engaged largely in running races, shooting basic hexes at each other and casting simple protective spells. There were a number of "kills", just by virtue of contestants failing to cast protective shields or physically avoid the hex. Gryffindor did better, especially among the boys. At least there were some athletes among them. Slytherin disappointed him. With students coming from Pureblood traditions, Severus had hoped to see more skill, more of the art of dueling. He saw little of the elegance he had hoped for in his own House. Once again, Severus bemoaned Dumbledore's inability to choose a decent DADA instructor. Bill Weasley had done a good job of coaching from above, but clearly the basic knowledge of dueling was not present among eighty percent of the students seen so far.

With the Sixth Years done, Professor Snape called for a break. House elves delivered drinking water to the participants. Vector stayed at his station, tallying results. Snape and Weasley walked the obstacle course and shared their observations. They agreed to go ahead and finish running the Seventh Years through the obstacle course. For a finale, they would give them a demonstration of real dueling. After discussing candidates, they agreed to hold back Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. This would mean teaming their partners, Blaise Zabini and Ron Weasley against each other.

After the ten-minute break, the Seventh Years were ordered into place and the Sixth Years took to the stands. Bill Weasley stood at the starting line as Snape flew over the obstacle course. Hufflepuff went first; again showing limited skills in dueling, except for a few who had belonged to Dumbledore's Army. Ravenclaw showed the same level of accomplishment. Things began to get interesting when the Gryffindors took the field. The natural athleticism of some of girls and some of the boys showed the kind of dueling Snape expected. Dodges and feints were present and the hexes cast were more creative. Aim could have been better. Were it not for the protective shields cast around the stands, the stadium would have taken considerable damage from stray hexes. When the Seventh Year Slytherins took the course, Snape took pride in his House. Oddly enough, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to get it. Because of their size, they had a certain quality of hippos in a ballet, but they fired potent hexes at each other and managed to dodge most of them, scoring relatively few hits.

At this point, Potter and Weasley as well as Malfoy and Zabini were fuming because they had been denied their turns without explanation. Snape and Weasley approached the four young men and explained their plan.

"The four of you have consistently demonstrated a higher level of Defense Against the Dark Arts skills than any of your fellow students," explained Professor Snape. "As you have observed your compatriots, you must have seen how most of them lack any idea of what dueling really is. Mr. Weasley and I invite the four of you to provide them with a real demonstration." Snape looked pointedly at Ron Weasley. "Mr. Weasley and Mr. Zabini. Would you be willing to duel with each other?"

Ron Weasley looked at Blaise Zabini. The two young men grinned.

"I'm for it, Weasley," said Zabini. "How about you?"

"I'm always ready to hex you into the ground, Zabini," challenged Weasley.

"In that case, if you two gentlemen would take your places," invited Bill Weasley.

"Make us proud, Zabini," urged Malfoy.

"Kick arse, Ron," called Potter.

Snape took off on the broom, assuming his position over the obstacle course. The two contestants took their places. The crowd noticed the change and cheers and catcalls were heard from the stands.

Bill Weasley called for quiet in the stands. He blew the whistle.

Weasley got off the first shot, coming around the boulder at a run. The athletic Zabini ducked and rolled out from behind his boulder, coming to his feet and firing back. Weasley threw himself below what looked like a slicing hex and Zabini used the opportunity to dash on ahead of him. In an instant, Ron was back on his feet and hurled a Tarentella, which hit Zabini in the shoulder and was absorbed by the badge. Cheers were heard from the Gryffindor stand. Zabini pulled a feint to the left and then came back around a transfigured bush, sending another slicing hex towards Ron. Ron did a spin to his right, casting a shielding spell just in time to avoid being hit.

Now, one half of the way through the course, Zabini was ahead, hidden behind a stand of bushes. In avoiding the slicing hex, Ron lost sight of where Zabini had gone. Ducking behind a boulder, Ron balanced his wand on his hand and did a Point Me charm. The wand pointed towards the bushes. There was easily 25 yards of open space in between Ron and Zabini, if Ron moved forward; he'd be a sitting duck for Zabini. Ron smirked as the idea came to him. Moving to the side of the boulder, he cast a flamer charm on the bushes, which was not protected by the dampening effect projected by the badges. The bushes burst into flame, driving Zabini out from behind. Zabini countered by sending a freezing hex at Ron, which caught him in the leg. This time, the cheering came from Slytherin. Both men were back on their feet, running and dodging. Ron's long legs gave him an advantage as he pulled ahead of Zabini coming around the last leg of the course. Zabini dove behind the cover of a tree and proceeded to fire one hex after another at Ron, pinning him down on the ground. Ron looked up the tree and sent a hex into a large branch, sending it crashing down towards Zabini. Zabini took a leap out of the way, landing behind another tree. Ron took the advantage to head towards the finish line, crossing it before Zabini could get back on his feet, making it in just under the five-minute time limit.

Cheering was heard from Gryffindor, along with a few choruses of "Weasley is our King."

Professor Vector took their badges and tallied the scores. He announced, "Mr. Zabini scored 21 points against Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley scored 24 points against Mr. Zabini. Mr. Weasley is the winner by three points."

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw joined the cheering.

Ron stepped forward and held out his hand to Zabini. "You gave me one helluva fight, Zabini."

Accepting the hand and shaking it in response, Zabini said; "So did you, Weasley. I'll have to remember that trick with setting fire to the landscaping.

Severus was pleased with the duel. The two students were very equally matched.

Bill Weasley landed and he and Snape set about transfiguring the burned bushes and the tree back into their original condition. When the task was completed, the two men walked back to the starting line meeting Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter who had moved into the starting positions at the boulders, looking anxious to start. The crowd was cheering for the grudge match to begin.

Grinning, Bill stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Severus. Professor Snape signaled for Malfoy and Potter to come over, then crossed his arms and waited, wand dangling casually from his fingers. The two young men reluctantly left the starting positions and stood in front of their instructors.

"Gentlemen, we have something different in mind for the two of you. If you feel you are up to the challenge," drawled Severus. At that moment, Bill Weasley straightened up and assumed the traditional challenge pose; head straight, shoulders squared, arms straight down at his side. Looking at Malfoy, he gave a slight bow and said, "Mr. Malfoy, I challenge you to a duel."

Malfoy was taken back a moment and then responded to assuming the same posture demonstrated by Bill Weasley and giving the traditional response, "Mr. Weasley, I accept your challenge."

This left Harry looking surprised and then pleased. He turned and looked at Professor Snape, who inclined his head. Harry took the lead, standing straight and looking at Professor Snape. He bowed as he had seen Bill do and addressed his teacher. "Professor Snape, I challenge you to a duel."

Snape immediately straightened and gave his formal reply, "Mr. Potter, I accept your challenge."

Bill produced a galleon for a coin toss and called it heads, resulting in winning the toss. Draco Malfoy and Bill Weasley would go first. It was agreed that Potter would give the go signal while Professor Snape patrolled the course on broom. After donning a pair of dueling badges, Draco and Bill assumed the starting positions on the course. On a count of three, Potter blew the whistle and the contest began.

Bill threw the first hex of the contest, blasting a chunk off Draco's boulder. Draco was already off and tossed an icing hex behind him, turning the sandy surface slick with a coating of ice. Bill realized what Draco had done, took a running start and dove onto the ice. He cast a shielding charm ahead of him and skimmed along the slick surface towards the bushes, which would provide him with cover. Draco shot a heat charm, which reflected off the shield and hit the surface of the ice, melting it instantly. Bill tumbled over into the watery sand, still protected by the shield. A muttered curse and some fancy wand-waving and wet sand balls rose up and headed in Draco's direction. Draco took off, casting the shield behind him but too late as three of the sand balls pelted him, hitting him in the back of the head and shoulder blades.

Cheering was heard from the Gryffindor contingency as groans were heard from Slytherin.

The sand balls, which knocked Draco to the ground, gave Bill time to get on his feet and shake the worst of the wet sand off of him. He followed up with a body bind in Draco's general direction, which Draco rolled to escape. Both men were on their feet and running, firing and dodging hexes as they went. Halfway through the course, both ducked behind trees to catch their breath. Bill took off first, drawing Draco's fire, which bounced off an invisible shield Bill cast while still behind the tree. The stunner bounced off and rebounded towards Draco who dropped beneath it. His wand raised, he fired a bright blue stunner back at Bill who didn't make it behind another boulder fast enough to dodge it.

Cheers came up from the Slytherin box.

Now both men were coming into the last quarter turn of the course. The copse of trees where Ron Weasley caught Blaise Zabini was straight ahead. Bill did a leap and roll to miss a stunner shot in his direction, just enough of a delay to let Draco get ahead of him. Bill fired a stomach cramp hex at Draco, close enough to drive him behind the trees. Draco grabbed a tree trunk and swung around, intending to run out from behind it and nail Bill with another stunner when his foot caught in a root extending up from the sand. He went down, twisting his leg as he fell. He felt a pop in his knee followed by a tearing feeling and excruciating pain. Draco howled as he hit the ground.

Bill, who had rolled up to a kneeling position with his wand extended for the next hex, got to his feet and ran to Draco who was white with pain and trying very hard not to move his leg. Professor Snape landed the broom and came running at full speed. By the time Severus reached them, Bill disintegrated the tree root, freeing Draco's foot. Severus dropped to his knees besides Draco and ran a quick diagnostic charm.

"Shit, shit, shit," moaned Draco. "It's my goddamn knee."

"Hold still," said Severus. Bill bent over and read the sigils forming over Draco's knee.

"Torn cartilege. It looks like his knee cap is out of place," said Bill.

"We cannot attend to this here," pronounced Severus, "We have to get you to the hospital wing."

"Oh shit," groaned Draco, "I finally get the chance to thrash a Weasley and I blow my knee out."

Bill and Severus looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"I owe you a rematch, Draco," Bill chuckled, "But right now, I'm going to have some of your friends levitate you to the hospital wing.

"No way," grunted Draco as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "You think I'm going to miss watching Professor Snape use Potter for toilet paper?"

"You would do well to restrain yourself from being vulgar," sneered Severus.

"I'm in pain and don't know what I'm saying," smirked Draco.

"I could arrange for that," retorted Severus.

Before the verbal duel could continue, a contingency of Slytherins including Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode came running up.

"Geez, Draco," said Goyle who looked genuinely worried, "You look hurt."

"Thanks, Goyle," muttered Draco to himself, "You're good at the obvious."

"Knock it off, Malfoy," ordered Millicent Bulstrode, "We're going to get you to the hospital wing."

"He has torn cartilege in his left knee and his kneecap is out of place," explained Professor Snape. "I am placing a cushioning cast around the knee and freezing the position of his leg. Miss Bulstrode, your levitation skills are the best of your compatriots, so I will entrust you to take responsibility for the levitation. You other three will ensure Mr. Malfoy does not get bumped on the way to the hospital wing."

"Sir, I would really like to wait until you finish your duel with Mr. Potter," protested Draco. "The charm is holding off the pain and my leg is immobilized. Honestly, Professor, I can hold off ten minutes."

"It's a bad idea," said Bill. He looked at the Slytherins and gave orders. "The longer you wait, the more you risk permanent damage to the knee and watching a duel isn't worth it. You'll have to hear the replay from your classmates. The four of you will take him directly to the hospital wing right now, no detours."

"Yes, Professor Weasley," said Crabbe.

Bill didn't bother correcting him.

Bulstrode cast the Mobilocorpus and Draco was floated into an upright position.

"Does it feel better straight up or on your back?" asked Bulstrode.

It was obvious that only the presence of Professor Snape kept Draco from making a very smutty response, which left the men of the group grinning.

"I believe Mr. Malfoy will feel better on his back," suggested Severus with a smirk.

"On my back is fine," muttered Draco, getting annoyed that he was not going to have his way about staying for Potter and Snape's duel.

"Take him away," ordered Bill.

Millicent Bulstrode levitated Draco in front of her. The other three formed a protective wing around Draco and the five of them headed off the Quidditch pitch.

As Draco was magically frog-marched off to Madame Pomfrey, the crowd applauded, cheered, and shouted encouragement. For once all four Houses were united in their display of good sportsmanship in recognition of the injured duelist. Bill and Severus agreed that Draco had done very well in the match, showing creativity, strategy, athleticism, and skill. He did well enough to give Bill a true contest, which was unexpected by everyone except Severus. Now the crowd was waiting to see what would happen next. After the injury to Draco, would Professor Snape and Harry Potter go through with their duel?

Harry kept back while Malfoy's injury was tended to, figuring the last thing he needed was to see his arch nemesis standing over him while he was down. The two of them had battered each other enough times; both fair and foul, on and off the Quidditch pitch that his sympathies or assistance might not be welcome. Watching the contingency of Slytherins come to Malfoy's aid, Harry guessed his hovering presence wasn't needed.

Besides, he wanted to keep ready for his own duel with Snape. He waited patiently. Surely it wouldn't be cancelled just because Malfoy busted up his knee while dueling with Bill?

Severus was satisfied that Draco was being taken to Madame Pomfrey and not secreted in a spot where he could watch the next duel. He nodded to Bill and the two wizards walked the course, making repairs to boulders, trees, and drying out the wet sand. The two rejoined Potter at the beginning of the course.

"So what did you learn from observing the last duel, Mr. Potter?" asked Professor Snape.

"Keep my feet away from the tree roots for one thing, Professor," quipped Harry, "As for the rest, keep my eyes on my opponent, be prepared for anything, and duck a lot."

"Adequate, Mr. Potter," sneered Severus. "I do hope you plan to give me a contest?"

"I'll do my best, sir," answered Harry, not rising to the bait.

Bill held out the box of dueling badges. Harry and the Professor each selected one. Professor Snape removed his teaching robes and pinned his badge onto his frock coat. He spelled the coat to make it more flexible at the seams and in the fabric for purposes of dueling. The badges were paired and activated as each touched his wand to his opponent's badge.

Severus did not doubt that Potter would do his best. He had six full years of hostility towards his teacher to work off and this was likely Potter's only chance to get a shot at Professor Snape that would not result in exceedingly nasty detentions until graduation. However, Severus fully intended to teach the little prat a lesson. The only other time Potter had seen Severus engaged in anything vaguely resembling a duel was when that idiot Lockhart started the dueling club during Potter's Second Year. The whole notion that he served as Lockhart's assistant during that debacle was absurd. Severus could have his wand snapped in half and still have left pieces of Lockhart all over the dueling stage. Of course Severus assured himself he was above holding onto six years of annoyance with Potter and seven years of anger at his bullying father. As a mature adult, there was no possibility Severus was looking at this as a grudge match. It was his obligation as a teacher and a member of the Order to wipe up the obstacle course with Harry Potter's sorry self. If Potter learned a little…. learned a lot of humility from the experience it would be entirely for the better.

"Are you two ready?" asked Bill.

"Ready, sir," answered Harry.

"Quite so," answered Severus.

"In that case, I'll mount up and whistle your start from overhead," said Bill, summoning the Nimbus 2000. He mounted his broom and grinned, "Keep it clean gentlemen, I'll be watching."

Harry laughed and Severus grimaced. The two separated and assumed their starting positions at the boulders.

The audience silenced.

The whistle blew.

Harry got off first, sending a slicing hex at Severus. Professor Snape dove for a clean miss and shot off a stunner at Harry. Harry, who was on the run towards the bushes, cast a Protego behind him to protect his back followed by a body bind. Severus rolled to the side for another miss and came up on his knees and to his feet breaking into a run, garnering applause from the Slytherin box. He cast a flamer and took out the bushes as a cover for Harry. This forced Harry to come out from behind and into open territory. Severus hurled a tickling charm his way and clipped his right leg with it, the distinctive yellow orange color recognized by most of the crowd, which set them to laughing. Harry, getting very annoyed at being toyed with by the professor, shot off an exceptionally strong stunner that bounced off Snape's shielding charm and hit a banner at the foot of the Slytherin viewing box shredding it into pieces. Severus got off a few Batbogey hexes, grinning nastily at Harry. Harry cast a shield and the hexes bounced off harmlessly. At this point, Harry was angry at having First Year hexes tossed at him by Snape and used a flamer to set fire to the bushes behind the professor, who felt the heat through his dragonhide boots as he dove and rolled.

Now things were getting serious. Harry and Severus were a third of the way through the course and had already cast twice as many offensive and defensive spells at this point as any team other than during the Weasley/Malfoy duel. Severus decided to stop toying with Harry and cast a Petrificus Totalus, which caught the heel of Harry's left foot as he dove beneath it. The hex was absorbed by the dueling badge, which recorded the hit with a red glow. Harry, twenty-one years younger than Severus and with the reflexes that made him the best Seeker on the Gryffindor team in a generation, rolled and with the speed and grace that would have made a gymnast proud, came directly to his feet and into a full run, parallel to the professor. The two traded slicing hexes, one catching Severus on the shoulder and showing a strong hit on his dueling badge. Harry pulled slightly ahead, only to be slowed when Severus transfigured the sand, creating a pit of quick sand. Harry cast a freezing charm, solidifying the pit sufficiently for him to skid bumpily across. Severus pointed his wand at his boots, adding cleats to the bottom for traction and ran after him at full tilt.

Harry and Severus were only yards apart at this point when Harry yelled "Expelliarmus," forgetting for a moment that the badges dampened the effects of the spells to the point of ineffectiveness. Severus was startled to feel the strong tug on his hand and had to tighten his hand to a white knuckle grip to hold onto his wand. Harry was back on his feet and heading down the course shooting Stupifies behind him. Severus decided to narrow down his repertoire of spells to those that would score as strong hits and the necessary defensive spells. Potter might reach the end of the course first, but winning depended on the hits recorded by the badge. He fired off a rapid series of stunners and slicers, one after the other, battering the shield Harry projected behind him. In response, Harry dove behind the trees where Malfoy had been injured and fired off alternating flame and ice hexes. Snape cast a shield and he could feel it bending under the power of the hexes.

'This should not be happening,' thought Severus. 'The badges should be dampening the power of the spells and Potter is going to break through my shields.' Severus cast another shield just in time to protect him as the previous one fell. The two men were now pinned down as each cast powerful offensive spells one after the other. Both had shields in place, but Severus could feel alternating waves of cold and heat pummeling him through the shield. He cast a third shield as he felt the second crumble.

Above him, he heard the whistle blow, bringing the duel to a halt. Both men rose as Bill Weasley landed the broom between them. With their focus so intent on each other, they had not heard the shouts of the crowd up in the stand.

"Something has to be wrong with your badges," shouted Bill. "Potter's spells aren't being dampened."

"No wonder I could feel the heat and cold coming through my shielding spells," called Snape. "Take off your badge, Potter."

Potter complied, walking forward to join the other two. Professor Snape held both badges and compared them.

"Look at the signs of burning around the edges of Potter's badge," observed Severus, "I've never seen the like before."

"I've never heard of a dueling badge failing," commented Bill as he took the badge from Professor Snape. He turned it over and examined the back. There were signs of singeing there as well. "Where did the badges come from?"

"Standard Ollivander's," reported Severus.

"He makes the best," muttered Bill.

"Potter," asked Professor Snape, "Did you feel any heat or burning from the badge?"

"Yes, sir," answered Potter, "But I didn't know that was unusual. It started feeling hot when we were almost halfway through the course."

"I wonder," said Severus pensively. He had never heard of badge burning out, but Potter had put a lot of energy through the badge and it had taken a beating with the force of the spells Severus had cast. "We should take a new set of badges and set these aside for further investigation, unless you wish to concede the duel now, Mr. Potter?"

"No way, sir," retorted Harry. "I had you pinned down before the badge failed."

"As I recollect we had each other pinned down, Mr. Potter." Severus summoned two fresh badges and examined them.

"These should be satisfactory." The professor handed a badge to Harry. "When we are done with the duel, I would like you to return your badge to me so I can compare it with the damaged one."

"Of course, Professor," said Harry, pinning on the badge. The two exchanged wand taps on their badges to activate the paired protection.

"As I recall, Potter was over by the trees and Professor Snape was opposite of you by the pile of rocks," said Bill. "Would the two of you care to resume those positions, though I think you could be standing, if that is agreeable?"

Both men recognized an advantage to not restarting the duel while lying on their bellies and agreed to a standing start. Bill kicked off again and hovered over the playing field. The whistle blew and the two men were off. Severus took the first shot, aiming a Stupify at Harry. Harry countered the Stupify with a Protego and added a leg-cramping spell for good measure. Severus shielded successfully and shot a rapid growth spell at the bush directly ahead of Potter. Harry was looking behind him to fire off the next spell instead of watching what was ahead of him, crashed into the bush and was knocked onto his back. A mad scramble and he was back onto his feet, but Professor Snape was only three or four lengths behind him, wand extended for the next hex. Only a dozen yards away from the finish line, Harry did the unexpected and dropped to the ground. He rolled back towards Severus, who had to leap over him or fall. Still on the ground, Harry aimed and fired off a body bind, which barely missed the professor's back when Severus tucked himself down and in and landed in a roll. Years of practice with Lucius Malfoy paid off as Severus came gracefully out of the roll with his wand arm extended, firing off a Stupify before Harry was completely back on his feet. It registered on the dueling badge as a major hit. Had this duel been the real thing, it would have been over. Instead, Harry got to his feet and fired back with a festering boils hex, an uncontrolled sneezing hex, a blue polka dot skin hex, and the ever-popular prehensile tail growing hex, each of which was countered by Professor Snape before Potter finished mouthing the words.

There was shouting, cheering, and laughter from the stands.

Harry Potter was grinning as he dropped his wand arm and walked over to Professor Snape, who was still on one knee on the ground with his wand carefully pointed at Potter's head.

"I think you won, sir," said Harry. He held out his hand to Professor Snape.

Severus dropped his wand arm and took Harry's hand and allowed the younger man to pull him up.

"Good feint, Potter," replied the Professor, his eyes narrowed. "You surprised me when you rolled back at me."

"That was a pretty athletic roll you did when you nailed me with that Stupify. I didn't expect that from a schoolteacher," smirked Harry.

"You would be surprised what this schoolteacher is capable of, Mr. Potter."

Harry's face turned serious.

"You're probably right about that, Professor," said Harry.

Professor Vector joined the group as Bill Weasley landed with the broom.

"Good dueling, Harry," said Bill. "You gave the Professor a pretty decent workout for someone without formal training in dueling."

"I have had few opportunities to see classical wizards' dueling, but it was interesting to watch," said Vector. "It is far more athletic than I ever realized."

"This obstacle course is just a beginner's level," replied Severus, "Advanced dueling takes place in the natural setting and no badges are permitted. Of course, Unforgiveables are not allowed, but virtually everything else is."

Harry gave a low whistle. "I take it there are a lot of injuries in advanced dueling?"

"A Mediwizard is usually standing by in advanced dueling contests," remarked Bill.

"I have the point totals for you," said Vector, producing a parchment with lists of names in pairs and points."

"Thank you," replied Severus, accepting the parchment. "Bill, perhaps you could dismiss the students after a few remarks?"

Bill grinned. "Why not? I've enjoyed playing professor today." He moved towards the center of the course.

"Sounds like you have him primed for the Headmaster, Severus," smiled Vector.

Harry looked surprised and pleased. "You mean the Headmaster is going to ask Bill Weasley to take over the DADA position?"

"Quiet, Potter," said Severus.

Bill cast a Sonorous so he could be heard through the stadium.

"I want to compliment everyone on the energy and effort you put into today's dueling exercises," said Bill, his voice echoing around the Quidditch pitch. "For some of you, this was your first experience with dueling and for others; it was a chance to stretch your skills. I hope you will take what you've learned today and the good examples you've seen and commit yourself to developing new skills. You will never know when you'll need them. Your final scores will be posted in the DADA classroom. Thank you all, class dismissed."

It usually took a Quidditch match to get the kind of roar of applause and cheers heard from the students.

"I would say the students appreciated the activities of the day," observed Severus.

"Do you think we could do this again or get a dueling club going, sir?" asked Harry.

"I will pass on your request to the Headmaster, Mr. Potter."

The crowd had worked its way out of the stands and onto the pitch. Harry nodded to the two Professors and joined Ron and Ginny as they headed back to the castle. Considerable backslapping was exchanged between the students.

No one was surprised that evening during dinner when Headmaster Dumbledore announced that Bill Weasley would replace the unfortunate Professor DaVinci as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor.

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Author's note: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. In the next, we will return to Hermione and the aftermath of the Muggleborn family murders.

Many thanks to Snape's Witch, Lady Rhian, Aldara, Elizabeth, Snapehermioneluver, Gin, Phoenix Flight, and Jana Sheridan. This chapter went up two days earlier than I'd planned because of your requests!


	13. Chapter 13

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

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Hermione, October 24, 1997

_From: Roberta Wilspoon_

_Admissions Department_

_Avalon College_

_Administration Building_

_Chicago, Illinois_

_United States of America_

_To: Ms. Hermione Granger_

_Gryffindor Tower_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Hogsmeade District_

_Scotland_

_Date: October 22, 1997_

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I received correspondence from Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts explaining your situation and the need to cancel your visit to our campus this coming weekend. Please accept our most sincere condolences on your loss._

_Be assured, we would be pleased to reschedule your visit for a later time. An in-person visit to the campus is not a requirement for admission, if you find you are unable to do so. We have received your application for admission, including copies of your transcript. Our admissions committee will process this and we anticipate sending out notifications of tentative acceptances (pending graduation and NEWTs scores) in February._

_Again, we regret the circumstances that prevent you from visiting us this weekend._

_--------------_

Hermione put the letter in a folder with her other correspondence from the college. At least this wasn't something she had to deal with right now. Hermione leaned back in the desk chair and sighed. Looking for something to make herself at least appear to be productive, she pulled out her Arithmancy textbook and made it look like she was reading.

Lavender was gone, but Parvati was sitting on her bed, reading a novel. Harry and Ron were off at Quidditch practice, which was kind of a relief after having the two of them acting like virtual bodyguards since Sunday. They'd been a wonderful support to her, especially at the funeral, but being someone who needed her time alone, it had gotten a bit much.

The week was a blur. Sometimes, time seemed to crawl by with excruciating slowness. At other times, things happened too fast for Hermione to process. Her emotions were on a roller coaster. There were moments when she wanted to scream and howl in pain. The worst of those was when Molly and Arthur went home with her to pick out clothes for her parents to be buried in. She'd dreaded the very thought of setting foot in the house where her parents had been murdered. Using every relaxation technique she'd ever heard of and every ounce of self-discipline she had, Hermione managed to stay calm at first. She made it upstairs to her parents' bedroom. All it took was opening the wardrobe door and seeing her mother's bathrobe hanging on the hook where she always kept it to send her into hysterics. She remembered clutching the robe, which still smelled like Mum's favorite lavender body lotion, and sitting on her parents' bed with Molly wrapped around her. She cried herself out on that one, taking a good half hour before she could get back up and finish the tasks they'd come for. After that, there was the horrible trip to the mortuary to select the caskets and to give the undertaker photos of her parents so he'd know how to make them look. Arthur stood with his arm around her shoulders as she listened to the undertaker wax eloquent on the features of different styles of caskets and their linings. By the time Hermione had to sign the contract, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the pen. At least they already owned graves in the cemetery near the church Dad had attended since he was a boy so she didn't have to make any decisions about it. Her parents would be buried only a short walk away from her grandparents.

Then there were visits to the lawyer. Mr. Kinslow, the Headmaster's friend, was very kind. He had already gotten a copy of the will and insurance papers and was filing them on Hermione's behalf. With a little magical furnace tinkering by Remus, the police concluded that her parents had died of carbon monoxide poisoning; there was no problem with getting their bodies released to the mortuary so the funeral could be held.

Hermione remembered the funeral in a kind of haze. After the bad experience at the mortuary, she asked Madame Pomfrey for a calming draught to help her get through it. Madame Pomfrey was concerned, but Hermione explained there would be a lot of people there between her family's friends, patients, and professional associates. Hermione just wanted to be able to keep her dignity and not break down in front of them. She assured Madame Pomfrey that she was dealing with her feelings and was now crying on a fairly regular basis. Somehow that reassured Pomfrey, so she gave Hermione the draught.

She would be eternally grateful to Ron, Harry, Ginny, Molly and Arthur. Now on a first name basis with Ron's parents, they were truly a support to her through the funeral. The six of them arrived early. The caskets would be closed during the service, but family and close friends were to come beforehand to say goodbyes. Ron and Harry had to hold her up when she saw her Mum and Dad lying there, looking so artificial, like sleeping mannequins. Hermione didn't know if it made it better or worse that they really didn't look like themselves. It was easier not seeing them during the funeral. With the caskets closed, she could just pretend it wasn't them. Between that, the calming draught, and having one of the five of them with her at all times, she was able to make it through. She listened to her parents' professional colleagues offering condolences and made the right responses. Patients shared little stories and she was able to listen and thank them. Her parents' friends gave her hugs and she retained her composure.

She listened to her parent's best friends offer eulogies and did her best to turn off the voice of guilt in her head. Her parents were in those boxes because their daughter was a witch.

_It's all my fault_.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were there. They dressed like Muggles and somehow Dumbledore's hair and beard were shorter so he didn't look so much like Father Christmas. Remus Lupin arrived, along with Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. It comforted Hermione to know they were there as a support to her, but she wondered if they were there to provide security, too. She couldn't imagine that Death Eaters would show up at a Muggle funeral looking for trouble, but there were a lot of other things she could never have imagined either that turned out to be true.

She was exhausted when it was done. The Order members took her back to the London townhouse where they ate and talked. It was a relief to have that part of the ordeal over. She remembered sitting on the sofa with Arthur on one side and Ron on the other. The next thing she knew, Arthur was waking her up so they could go back to Hogwarts. Emotionally and physically worn out, she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. One more hug each from everyone who was there and Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Professor McGonagall portkeyed back to the school.

Hermione spent as much time as she could with Mary Ellen. The two girls had taken a few meals in the Great Hall and Mary Ellen sat by Hermione's side whenever she was around. The second night after the murders, Mary Ellen asked if she could sleep with Hermione. Hermione enlarged her bed to fit both of them. It was actually comforting to have the little girl curled against her. Harry and Ron went back to their room that night, making her promise that if she needed them she would send Lavender or Parvati to get them. The night of the funeral, Mary Ellen climbed into bed with her in the middle of the night. Last night, Mary Ellen had slept in her own bed. Mary Ellen had not gone to her parents' and sister's funeral and everyone was shielding her from the Muggle news. Somehow, the authorities concluded that the family had been poisoned accidentally by exposure to lawn chemicals. More magically manipulated test results, Hermione assumed. She guessed that four families from all over the U.K. dying on the same night of carbon monoxide poisoning was too much to be believed.

She appreciated the help she got from Molly and Arthur, Remus, and Professor McGonagall. They ran a lot of interference for her with the legal issues. Having Mr. Kinslow handle the estate took a lot of pressure off of her. Molly and Arthur offered to go back to the house with her and help her go through her parent's things. Hermione was glad that she didn't have to do that alone. She admitted to herself if that were the case, the house would probably sit a few years before she could bring herself to do it. Just the thought of returning to the house for one last time made her want to curl up in her bed and hide. Molly and Arthur suggested they go the weekend of Halloween.

The oddest thoughts kept going through her head. She kept thinking things like 'A week ago, Mum and Dad were alive.' Or she'd think of something she needed to tell them next time she saw them and had to make herself remember it wouldn't be happening. She had some extra toothbrushes from her parent's dental practice. This morning, she took one of them out of the wrapper and sat staring at it, running her fingers over their names imprinted into the plastic. She put it gently into a box she started that held odds and ends from her parents. There was a small stack of notes from them, reminders about upcoming events, neighborhood news, and reminders to floss. Hermione was grateful she hadn't gotten around to throwing them out. It wasn't that she wanted to look at them, it was too painful, but it comforted her to know she had them.

There were moments when it seemed the universe would never be right again, and others when she could laugh and see humor in things around her. Then she'd start to think how she would never see them again, and the gates of hell would open.

_It's all my fault._

Hermione went back to classes today. She had Potions in the morning and History of Magic in the afternoon. Being back felt weird and natural at the same time. Her classmates treated her differently. It was obvious some of them were uncomfortable around her, maybe not knowing what to say. Others were being sympathetic and attentive. Hermione had always been a loner, except for Ron, Harry, Ginny, and a few others she was close to. All of the attention, hugs and pats were disconcerting. Worst of all, the other Muggleborn students whose families were not attacked seemed to be avoiding her. Hermione wondered it if it was because she reminded them of the vulnerability of their own families.

It was a relief to get back to Potions class. They were working on an interesting chapter on antidotes for different classes of poisons. Professor Snape didn't treat her any differently, other than his voice wasn't quite as sharp as usual when he told her to get her hair out of the way. The really odd thing was Draco Malfoy. When they went to the cabinet to get their supplies, Malfoy handed her the tin of chimera bone meal. When he did, Malfoy looked at her and she thought she saw a fleeting expression of sympathy in his eyes. He didn't say anything to her. Harry asked her about it later and he didn't know what to make of it either. He did say that if Malfoy said or did anything cruel, to let him know and he'd take care of it. She didn't doubt Harry would. Ever since the dueling contest, Hermione had the impression Harry was itching to take on Malfoy in a real duel. Of course Harry and Ron had given her the full description of the contests. Hermione wished she could have seen Malfoy and Bill Weasley dueling and Harry and Professor Snape on that obstacle course. Harry said Professor Snape was brilliant.

Maybe some good might come out of all of the horror after all. Right now, all Hermione wanted was for life to begin to seem a little bit normal again. She just didn't see how it possibly could.

------------------

Author's Notes

My apologies to Professor Vector for inflicting a sex-change operation on her without consent. It has been pointed out that in canon, Vector is female. I hope she enjoyed her sojourn as Alan in Chapter 12. As for the charms preventing boys from accessing the girls' dormitory, I did know that one. I played fast and loose with it for sake of the story.

The Lucius Malfoy depicted in this story is definitely not canon. Canon Malfoy is a nasty SOB and it is implied he treats his son accordingly. This Lucius is the kind of man who would have been a consigliore in an American organized crime family in the 1950's and 60's. These men could engage in horrific crimes and then go home and be good husbands and loving fathers. Absolute loyalty was expected between the head of the family and the soldiers. A part of the deal was respect and protection for their wives and children. A member of the family killed in the line of duty or sent to jail could expect his family to be cared for. When war broke out between crime families, the wives and children were completely off-limits. This Lucius Malfoy expected that from Voldemort in exchange for his absolute loyalty. Instead, Voldemort uses the threat of violence against the wives and children to guarantee obedience. This opens all sorts of possibilities for Lucius' character.

Thank you to Princessfiona, Rageful Jewel, Bjornsdotter, Gin, Snapehermionelover, Phoenix Flight, Lady Rhian, Severusfan, Silverbutterfly, Elizabeth, and especially Amrun for comments and critiques.


	14. Chapter 14

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

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Severus, October 26, 1997

Narcissa Malfoy was one of the most exquisitely beautiful women to be found anywhere. Of average height, she was beautifully curved and had impeccable taste in clothes. She preferred robes that showed her cleavage to advantage, her narrow waist, and the swell of her hips. Her face was a perfect oval, with high cheekbones, a delicate nose, rosebud mouth, and deep blue eyes framed with perfect eyebrows. Her hair was a soft gold, swept up on the sides and held in place with sapphire clips, an exact match to the color of her gown. Narcissa sat to Lucius' right at the table in the informal dining room, looking the part of the perfect mate, perfect hostess.

Many years ago, Severus made the observation that Lucius Malfoy once looked into a mirror, fell deeply in love, and then went out looking for that image in a wife. He found it in Narcissa, who bore such a close resemblance to her second cousin Lucius that people often mistook them for brother and sister. The truth was that theirs was an arranged marriage, not unusual among society Purebloods. Nonetheless, there was genuine love and partnership in their marriage.

Of course, it did not equate with faithfulness on the part of the male partner, another common arrangement among wealthy Purebloods. Lucius was discrete, but he enjoyed the fine art of seduction and had no intention of allowing his skills to deteriorate just because he was married. In their younger days, Lucius and Severus had enjoyed the attentions of a few women who liked the dangerous type. Handsome, rich, and well spoken, Lucius would attract them first and then coax them into a ménage a tois with his best friend. Those rather exotic and adventurous women were usually drawn not just by the danger, but the contrast of Lucius' angelic beauty and Severus' midnight looks that reminded them of the darker places. Those times were fairly short-lived. Once Lucius married and had to pay more attention to his reputation as he built political influence to be used in the service of Voldemort, he became far more discreet in his sexual escapades.

Stories and rumors circulated for years that Death Eaters regularly participated in orgies. This was patently untrue. First of all, there were only a few female Death Eaters to go around which would have left most of the men standing without much to do other than watch and wank. Secondly, when those women were like Bellatrix Lestrange, a smart man did not let his sensitive bits get anywhere near any of her three usable orifices. One was known to have teeth and Severus was not willing to bet she did not have some sharp objects hidden in the other two.

There were times when rapes took place, but those were during special celebrations hosted by Voldemort or opportunities seized during raids. The gang rapes were always of Muggles and never of Muggles from the country where the celebration took place. The women were kidnapped from other countries and brought in for the event. One missing Muggle from Germany, another from Sweden, a third from Spain, and so on were unlikely to attract the kind of attention five or six missing women from a single country could.

In the stupidity of his youth and much to his regret, Severus participated in one of the gang rapes. There was considerable peer pressure to do so at the time. The Dark Lord was watching and suggested that as a loyal Death Eater, he should sample this particularly erotic treat. As a "suggestion" from the Dark Lord, Severus had no choice and took his turn. The woman was Spanish with dark hair and eyes, crying and pleading to him in a language he did not understand. The writhing and screams of the unwilling woman beneath him were revolting. He was very much aware of how many other Death Eaters had the woman before him and just how much semen he was wallowing in at the time. His erection failed and he received considerable harassment from the other Death Eaters for it.

The only good part of the experience was Voldemort's assumption that Severus had problems with performance anxiety in public settings and did not insist again. Severus allowed the other Death Eaters to conclude he had problems with impotence. During a few raids when he was offered first choice of victims, he alluded to lacking a potion he required for full enjoyment of the experience. Over time, Severus was designated as sexually incapable and left alone while others reveled in the experience. Only Lucius thought differently, having witnessed his friend suitably engaged during their threesomes. Severus appreciated that Lucius kept that bit of information to himself.

The one Muggle rape equated with months of nightmares and self-loathing. It was just one of the many factors that drove him to Dumbledore and his double life, one of the factors that led to Severus leading a celibate life for years at a time.

As he looked at Narcissa and Lucius, he felt a moment of genuine envy. Not of their beauty, social connections, or obvious affluence. It was the intimacy between them. The little touches they shared, meaningful looks, and the shorthand of communication between two people who had loved and lived with each other for twenty years. Part of him longed to have that kind of connection with a woman, but the other part of him screamed it was utterly impossible. The kind of woman he wanted would never be attracted to him. Even if the impossible happened, he had no reason to believe he could be successful in making the relationship work. One night with Kelly was fun. It was all play and no commitment, no work on his part, no chance for him to destroy it with cruel words and a fist to the face.

_My father with his hand on mother's throat._

Severus shook himself. There was no point in going down that path where the scenes replayed in his head. His reverie was interrupted by a question.

"Severus, do you think Draco would fit in at this American school?" asked Narcissa.

Severus swiftly took his thoughts in a different direction.

"He will be challenged by it. The wizarding world in the United States is very different than here in Britain." Severus lifted his hand and waved at the elegant furnishings of the Malfoy dining room. "In very many ways, he has lived a pampered and sheltered life. It is different there. He will be dealing with wizards who care nothing about Draco being a Malfoy. He will be his own man there and will have to learn the skills to make his own way. I spent a good part of the day with one of the Charms faculty members. I was impressed with him. They have much to offer to Draco."

"I believe Narcissa would be interested in hearing what the Dark Lord says about this plan," interjected Lucius.

"The Dark Lord will send him there without the Dark Mark. He views it as a disadvantage for blending in. What Draco learns about American culture will be useful in his very long-term plans for world conquest." Severus' voice was urgent. "Draco could be there for at least four years. There is even the possibility that Avalon will expand the Charms program into six years."

Narcissa leaned back, a surprised and relieved look on her face. She looked meaningfully at her husband. "Then it is our duty to support this?"

"It is indeed."

Narcissa rose and stepped around the table to stand beside Severus. He looked up and smiled affectionately.

"Severus, I am more grateful to you than I shall ever be able to express," said Narcissa. "To have gained this special arrangement for Draco, for as long as it can last…." She leaned down and kissed Severus' cheek. She moved behind her husband and placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning down and resting her cheek against his. Lucius reached up and placed his hand over hers.

"I have already discussed this with Draco and he will give his full cooperation to the plan," said Lucius. "Now that you tell us the Dark Lord has agreed, we will submit his application immediately."

Severus leaned back, swirling thebrandy in his glass. "I have given the faculty a verbal recommendation for Draco. Once the application is mailed, I will send them a written one. I believe Professor Flitwick can be prevailed upon to do the same."

"Would it be of benefit to send a generous gift with the application?" asked Lucius.

"I do not believe so. However, once Draco is actually enrolled, I believe you will receive regular solicitations for donations," Severus laughed. "I met with Daniel Schuler, the school's chief financial patron. He will not hesitate for a moment to ask you to sponsor the Malfoy wing of the Charms Building someday."

"If this accomplishes what we want, I will not hesitate to give it," said Lucius with a rather superior smirk.

"Be careful, Lucius," advised Severus. "Avalon spent over six million American dollars just on the potions laboratories. Who knows what they might have in mind for Charms?"

"Will you speak to Draco tonight when you get back to Hogwarts?" asked Narcissa.

"I will."

"In that case, I believe I will leave you gentlemen to your cigars and brandy." Lucius tipped his head up to meet her lips in a gentle kiss. Another one of those meaningful looks passed between them. Narcissa walked gracefully over to Severus and held out her hand. Severus took it and kissed it gently. "You must grace our table more often, Severus."

"The pleasure is always mine, Narcissa."

Narcissa departed with her elegant robes swishing around her. Malfoy followed his wife with his eyes.

"She grows lovelier every year, Lucius."

"She does indeed my friend," smiled Lucius. "And I believe I shall reap the benefits of having a very happy wife tonight." Lucius refilled Severus' glass. "Would you care for a cigar?"

"You have some I have not yet won?"

"Yes, a pitiful few left," answered Lucius. "Pudding, bring my humidor."

The elderly elf appeared with the humidor in his wizened hands. He bowed to Snape and offered him first choice. Severus made his selection and the elf offered the humidor to Lucius. The cigars were fondled, rolled, sniffed, and lit. Both men inhaled deeply, enjoying that first satisfying draw. Lucius dismissed the elf.

Severus exhaled first. "Lucius, do you remember when we both learned the basics of Occlumency?"

"Of course. It gave me some of the worst headaches of my life," remembered Lucius with a wince.

"In the years since, I have learned some refinements to my technique. May I teach you what I have learned?" Severus looked intensely at Lucius.

Lucius leaned forward. "Yes, Severus. I do believe the time is right to learn some new skills."

The two friends spent the next hour as student and teacher.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione, November 8, 1997

Hermione tried to pretend life was returning to normal. At least she pretended for five minutes here, ten minutes there. The routine of classes, homework, and studying did add a certain amount of sanity to her days. Her teachers treated her no differently than they ever did, other than Professor McGonagall seeking her out every few days for private conversation to see how she was faring emotionally. It was considerate of her and Hermione trusted Professor McGonagall, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to talk about the things that troubled her deeply, the thoughts that haunted her in the middle of the night.

Mary Ellen continued to cling to Hermione like a security blanket. There were times when it was comforting. Looking after Mary Ellen kept Hermione from dwelling on her own loss. Tina, Mary Ellen's sister had been sixteen years old and Hermione wondered if at some unconscious level, she reminded the girl of her lost sister. The Whitcomb family's funeral had come and gone without Mary Ellen's presence. Using Dumbledore's resources, an effort was being made to erase Mary Ellen from the Muggle world. Connections were used and favors called in to revise legal records. Memory charms were used with those most likely to recall the little girl. Little by little, Mary Ellen Whitcomb was vanishing into the closed society of the wizarding world. Professor McGonagall assured her that the Headmaster was looking into families who were interested in adopting a child. Before long, arrangements would be made for Mary Ellen to begin spending time with the most likely candidate.

On the other hand, providing emotional support to the child added to what felt like never-ending demands on Hermione's energy and emotions. While classes provided some sense of normality, dealing with the necessary aftermath of her parents' death drained what resources Hermione had left. At an intellectual level, Hermione knew she had to go through the things at the house. At an emotional level, she would have preferred to be anywhere else. She didn't know whether to be grateful to Arthur and Molly for making her follow through or if she should resent them for it. If allowed, Hermione would have let the house sit for years before doing anything about it. But, with Arthur and Molly structuring this part of her life, she was not allowed to ignore it.

The three of them decided to use a service to auction off most of the furniture and many of the possessions. The service would organize all of it, once Hermione and the Weasleys had gone through the house and removed the things Hermione wanted to keep. That was a chore they completed last weekend.

While the other students were busy preparing for the Halloween Dance to be held that Friday evening, Hermione was getting ready to leave for the Burrow. Hermione spent much of her lunchtime reassuring Ron and Harry that she wanted them to have fun at the dance with Lavender and Ginny. She didn't want them to feel the least bit guilty. If anything, Hermione was relieved to get away to the quiet of the Weasley family home for Friday night and Saturday. She didn't want to be around while her friends were partying and celebrating. The idea of having fun seemed completely inappropriate when her parents were dead. She did not confide to them how much she was dreading returning to her own home.

Halloween night was spent with Molly and Arthur at the Burrow. It was a chance to talk about the status of the legal process. The lawyer filed the Granger's will, so the estate could be settled. Death certificates had been filed with the insurance company, so the money should be coming in soon. Mr. Kinslow was working with the professional dental association to put the Granger's dental practice up for sale. During the week, Hermione had taken the information she received from Avalon College and put together a tentative budget for the next six years. Even considering inheritance taxes, she would have enough money for the six years of tuition, dormitory costs, fees, books, and other living expenses. She'd have to be careful not to be extravagant, but she could make it comfortably and still have nest egg to start her career with. Molly and Arthur offered their home for holidays and time between terms, which Hermione gratefully accepted.

The three apparated into the backyard of the Granger's home early Saturday morning. The plan established the night before called for them to work systematically through the house from top to bottom. Some of the furniture could be used at the Order's headquarters and be designated to go there. Her own bedroom furniture would be moved into Percy's old room. Hermione offered Molly and Arthur anything they would like to have. She knew Arthur was thinking about getting his hands on a few electrical appliances to tinker with. She thought Molly might like to have the sofa and chairs from the den. There were some things Hermione knew she would want to save, such as her mother's china cabinet, good china, and the silver inherited from her grandparents. Those would go into long-term rented storage.

The painful chore of sorting through her parents' belongings sent her into an emotional tailspin. It wasn't the large items that got to her; it was the small things. Somehow it didn't seem right that her parents' possessions should have survived them. Why couldn't her father's favorite jumper simply have disappeared off the coat tree in the front hallway when he died? How could her mother's cosmetics still be there in the drawer of the bathroom vanity? Her mother's purse sat in the same spot on her dresser where she had set it down every day after work for thirty years. Hermione sat down on the bed and opened the handbag. Inside was a comb, powder compact, tube of pink lipstick, a wallet, half finished roll of sugar-free breath mints, tickets from a movie torn in half, and even a wad of used tissues. Hermione felt tears on her cheeks and realized she could not bring herself to throw away those used tissues.

_It's all my fault. _

And then, there were the morbid thoughts. This house had been her home since the day she was born. She had eighteen years of happy memories of birthday parties; help with her homework, watching her father cook, raking the leaves, her parents cuddling on the sofa, and all the bits and pieces of daily life in a family. Hermione had known genuine love and security in this house, now shattered by the images in her head. She was acutely aware her father's body was found in the kitchen and her mother's body in the living room. She didn't know exactly where in the rooms, but her imagination went to work on it. Scenarios played in her head of how those final minutes might have been. Which of them did they kill first? Did the other know what was going on? Were they terrified when it happened? Although it was rumored that Avada Kadavra didn't hurt, how could anyone really know? At moments, her thoughts seemed bizarre. Did her father fall face forward or was he lying on his back? Did any of the Death Eaters touch her mother in any way before they killed her? Her own imagination was a source of torment.

She had all these questions to which she would never know the answers. Hermione wasn't sure she really wanted to know. The worst part was the feeling of guilt. Her parents died because they were Muggles who had the misfortune of having a child who turned out to be a witch. The Death Eaters came after them because their daughter was a witch, a witch who wasn't even home at the time to try and defend her family. If Hermione had been a Muggle child, her parents would still be alive. If Hermione had been home, her parents might still be alive. If Hermione hadn't been so determined to be a success at Hogwarts, a Muggleborn overachiever showing up Purebloods, her parents might still be alive. Scenario after scenario of what-ifs played through her mind. In all, her parents would still be alive except for something she did or failed to do.

Molly stayed with her as she went through her parent's bedroom. Going through the dressers felt like such an invasion of privacy. Things that were inappropriate to sell or give to charity, Molly disposed of with a wave of her wand. Other things, such as framed photos from the walls and albums Hermione wanted to keep with her were reduced and put in a box to take back to the Burrow. The furniture would be sold. Molly levitated the boxes stacked on the closet shelf onto the bed for sorting. Most of these things were mementos of her parent's lives, to be placed in storage. In one box were her maternal grandmother's journals; another held her mother's wedding veil. A box contained photos from her father's military service along with brass buttons, a nametag, and ribbons, which held significance Hermione did not understand. These were the bits and pieces of her parent's lives. As an only child of only children, Hermione always knew this would be her responsibility one day. She had hoped that day would be far off, but instead she had to deal with it here and now.

These thoughts raced through her head at one level, while her hands sorted through her mother's jewelry box. Most of the costume jewelry would be sold. She would keep the diamond pendant and earrings her father had given her mother for their thirtieth wedding anniversary, along with the other gold, silver, and gemstone pieces. In one drawer, she found a silver locket. Opening it, she saw a photo of herself as a baby on one side and a tiny lock of her hair on the other. She sat on the side of the bed, turning it over in her hand. She ran her thumb over the satiny surface. It was worn and the tiny closure was loose. Her mother must have worn it many times, an expression of love for the daughter born as a surprise long after her parents had given up hope of ever having a child. Guilt and pain swept through Hermione once again.

_It's all my fault._

The day wore on. More possessions were reduced and put in the box. A few more things were tagged to go to headquarters. Molly did want the sofa and chairs from the den. Hermione offered her the coffee table and bookcase to go with it and Molly accepted with a delighted smile and the two women shared a hug.

Hermione found Arthur in the kitchen carefully examining the electric can opener. He held a can of corn, which he was trying to open by pushing it against the side of the appliance. Hermione lifted the lever and showed him how it worked. Five minutes later, enough canned vegetables were opened to make quite a pot of soup. Molly shook her head and vanished the whole mess. Arthur took the can opener with him, along with the electric knife, a small television with a remote control, and a mixer.

There was no need to go through the garage. Everything in there, including her parents' cars would be sold. Her father's power tools and yard care equipment were to be part of the auction. The cellar had always been too damp to use for storage, so there was nothing to go through down there.

By this time, Hermione was emotionally and physically drained. The Weasleys were worn out. Fred and George volunteered to come and help Remus remove the designated pieces of furniture to headquarters and the Burrow, so there was nothing left to do. Hermione took a last look around, mentally bid her childhood farewell and the three apparated away. She did not expect to return to the house where she had grown up and where her parents had died.

Hermione returned to Hogwarts on Sunday. She was behind in her work and spent most of the day in the library and writing essays due the beginning of the week. Her eyes read the words on the pages before her. Her hand held the quill that made scratches on the parchment. It felt like she was going through motions. Harry and Ron came and got her from the library when it was time for lunch. If they hadn't she probably would have forgotten about eating, something she had done several times of late. She never seemed to be hungry anymore.

Hermione took her regular place at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat on one side and Ron on the other. Lavender, now designated as Ron's new girlfriend, sat across the table next to Ginny. Hermione's spoon went mechanically from the bowl of vegetable soup in front of her to her mouth. Her friends were laughing and telling stories about the Halloween dance. The band was good, Professor Snape caught Nathan Fleming from Hufflepuff trying to spike the punch, Fifth Year Kate Parker flirted outrageously with Seamus, and Nearly Headless Nick and The Gray Lady taught several of the students how to dance a quadrille. Hermione nodded where she should, frowned when it was appropriate, and even laughed once or twice. She was getting better and better at faking it.

Her mind wandered. She had a major project due in Arithmancy, which had to be finished by Tuesday. Professor Snape expected an essay on Friday about identifying poisons from the physical symptoms they caused. At least in Potions, Hermione didn't have to pretend interest in the material. For a few hours a week, standing over a steaming cauldron, or pouring through references on different magical ingredients and herbs, Hermione felt like a real person again. She could lose herself in her work. At other times, she found it impossible to concentrate. The worst was during History of Magic. Even though it was an advanced class, Professor Binns kept going over material covered in previous years. Her boredom led her mind to wander and her mind kept wandering down darker and darker paths. Her first reaction to the murders had been sadness, depression, and disbelief. As time passed and she had more time to think, she found herself becoming angry.

There was no further news on who killed her parents. This morning, Professor McGonagall told her all the intelligence the Order had indicated Voldemort was operating the Death Eaters differently than in the past. He was using teams in a more secretive way so only the task force members involved knew what operations were planned. He was not informing his inner circle about his plans until after the event. This meant Professor Snape, in his role as a double agent, no longer had advanced warning of raids. There was no possibility he could have prevented the families from being killed.

Hermione knew all along there was no chance the Death Eaters would ever be caught, let alone punished for their actions. She was not the only one who suffered for that knowledge. Matt McAllister left Hogwarts to go stay with his oldest sister, withdrawing from the wizarding world. She had seen him twice since the day they sat in Dumbledore's office and learned of their families' murders. Both times, he was withdrawn, pale, and silent. Rumor had it he tried to take potions he found in an unlocked cabinet in the hospital wing, attempting to kill himself.

An article from a Muggle newspaper describing Mrs. McAllister's murder found its way around the school. The horror of what was done to Matt's mother fed her fear of what the Death Eaters might have done to hers if the order of the murders been different. Her continual exposure to Mary Ellen's pain added to her own. In some of the darkest moments, her thoughts turned to fantasies of revenge. She stopped herself after a few of those; they only resulted in frustration and more anger.

Harry and Ron talked about retribution, but after the first few days, Hermione talked them out of it. As she told them, if there was justice to be found it would be the day of Voldemort's defeat. She did not want to risk losing anyone else she loved and it would not bring her parents back.

She had nightmares now. Three or four nights a week, Hermione dreamt about looking for her parents. She saw herself walking through the house, looking in every room and calling for them. Sometimes she dreamt they were just ahead of her and if she could run faster, she'd catch up with them. In other dreams, the house was empty and all the furniture gone. Her parents had gone to live somewhere else and forgot to tell her where they were going. In her dreams, she begged and pleaded with God to let her find them, to please bring them back. In her dreams, no one was listening and no one cared about her fear or pain. Those were nights when she woke crying. The pillowcase was wet with tears when she woke, she had been crying silently in her sleep.

Hermione had never been religious in the conventional church-going sense. Her parents were Anglican and attended church on an irregular basis. Living in the wizarding world, she encountered a myriad of religious beliefs. Some of her friends were agnostic, with no belief one way or the other. Others believed in multiple deities or a single God. Many followed the Wiccan traditions, honoring nature and worshipping the Goddess and God aspects of the creator.

Hermione believed in a power and a consciousness that created all things. In many ways, she thought of God like a benevolent grandfather who lived too far away to come and visit but who had very good intentions. Instead of praying, Hermione preferred to have conversations with Him, albeit rather one-sided. It felt more like talking things over and sorting things out with a power who cared about the beings He created.

After the murders, the more she thought about her image of God, the less faith she had in the benevolence she relied on. In this time, prayer seemed a meaningless exercise and a waste of words on someone who probably wasn't listening anyway. Without the names and faces of the Death Eaters to attach blame to, Hermione found herself blaming God. She felt like she had been sold a bill of goods during those years of Sunday school. She found it hard to believe God had any interest in her at all if he could allow this to happen.

Her doubts mounted, her anger built, and the nightmares continued. Surrounded by friends, Hermione felt isolated and alone. In this, there was no one to talk to, not even God was listening.

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Thank you to all my reviewers and apologies for not answering this weekend. Work's been a beast and I decided to cheer myself up by posting. Thank you for all your encouragement and I will get to everyone in the next few days.


	16. Chapter 16

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun

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Severus, November 14, 1997

The expected summons arrived Friday in the late evening. Severus grabbed his Death Eater Robes and made haste down the path to the Hogwarts' gates where he could escape the anti-apparation wards. Pressing the Dark Mark on his arm, he vanished into the night.

Severus looked around, recognizing the building off to the west. He had been summoned here once before and was surprised the Dark Lord had returned. Severus anticipated being summoned to some unknown location in Russia, where the Dark Lord was rumored to have been since the end of October.

The manor house once belonged to Tom Riddle's father, the man who rejected Riddle's mother because she was a witch. When she died shortly after childbirth, Riddle was consigned to a Muggle orphanage, engendering the bitterness that ultimately led to the rise of Lord Voldemort. Rumor among Death Eaters had it that shortly after Pettigrew returned to the Dark Lord, the two settled into the empty manor along with Nagini, the giant magical snake that was something in between a familiar and a food source for Voldemort.

Treading up the overgrown path, Severus was greeted by the familiar site of Peter Pettigrew, his silver hand reflecting the light from the moon.

"I understand you had quite the duel with Potter," said Pettigrew, the squeaky rat-like voice irritating like nails on chalkboard.

"Yes, Pettigrew. I look forward to discussing it with the _Dark Lord_." Severus made it quite clear he did not intend to discuss it with Pettigrew.

Severus despised Peter Pettigrew from the first time he met him. Back when they both attended Hogwarts as students, Pettigrew was one of James Potter's hangers-on. Not particularly intelligent or magically powerful, a sycophant's personality, and genuinely ugly, Pettigrew latched onto the Marauders out of self-preservation. Potter, Black, and Lupin adopted Pettigrew out of a certain sense of pity. Pettigrew ultimately paid them back for their kindness by betraying his role as Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter, turning them over to Voldemort for execution and framing Black for the crime.

Severus Snape did not consider himself an attractive man by any means, but by comparison to Peter Pettigrew, Snape felt downright pretty. The years Pettigrew spent hiding in his animagus form as Scabbers, the Weasley family's pet rat did nothing to enhance his looks. Even in human form, Pettigrew retained rat-like features. His face was round with small beady eyes. His teeth protruded from his mouth like a beaver's and his fingernails were misshapen, looking like thick claws. Pettigrew twitched constantly, wiggling his nose as he continually sniffed the air. He had only one natural hand, having sacrificed his other to help Lord Voldemort reconstitute a physical body. The other hand was magical, bright silver and graceful in appearance. The fingers of his paw-like hand twitched nervously.

Pettigrew's close association with Voldemort seemed somehow fitting. Voldemort seemed to be morphing more and more into a snake-like image. Pettigrew was very much a rat. Severus wondered if Pettigrew realized that snakes ate rats.

Following Pettigrew into the manor, Severus was led to a parlor. It was furnished in the manner Voldemort seemed to prefer, in imitation throne room. One chair, usually a very large comfortable wingback was situated like a throne. Other far less comfortable wood chairs were stationed nearby. There was always room in front of the throne for a kneeling supplicant. Voldemort was not in the parlor, so Severus stationed himself near the fireplace to await his arrival. A swish of robes could be heard in the hallway and Voldemort made his entrance. As soon as Voldemort swept into the room, Severus bowed and stayed in that position until Voldemort was seated.

"Come forward, Severus," invited Voldemort.

Severus stepped forward and dropped to one knee. Voldemort held out his hand with the skull and snake ring. Severus leaned forward and kissed the ring as expected.

"Rise, Severus. Be seated." Voldemort waved towards the nearest chair.

Snape took the chair and sat.

"According to the message you sent through Pettigrew, you engaged in a duel with Potter in front of the senior students at Hogwarts."

"I did, my Lord. May I elaborate?"

Voldemort inclined his head.

"It was the Monday following the Muggleborn family raids. Dumbledore and several of the other staff were occupied with dealing with the mudbloods. Those of us who were not involved split up the students among us and provided special classes. I was given responsibility for the Sixth and Seventh Years. It seemed an opportune moment to assess their skills in simulated battle."

"And the results?"

"Overall, dismal. We need have no concern Dumbledore has an army of students ready to take on Death Eaters. I can say with some pride that Slytherin acquitted itself quite well. Crabbe and Goyle can be quite proud of their sons, as can Lucius Malfoy. Blaise Zabini, Adrian Pucey, and a few other students demonstrated the kind of dueling skills which could serve you well, master."

"What of Dumbledore's favorite Gryffindors?"

"Potter is the only one we need be concerned about. Zabini was careful to lose to Ronald Weasley to keep him over confident." Severus paused. "You are aware that Bill Weasley dueled with Draco Malfoy?"

"I was surprised you allowed it."

"Weasley was bragging about his membership in a dueling club in Cairo. I thought it an opportunity to assess his skills, which are quite good. It is to Draco's credit that he fared as well as he did, until he injured his knee. Weasley is powerful, in excellent physical condition, and showed genuine skill in dueling. Draco needs to learn strategy, but only age and practice can provide that. Potter is a different case in point."

"What is your opinion of his capabilities?"

"He lacks technical skill and experience. Those were the only factors that allowed me to defeat him, given the dueling badges. We were half way through the course when the raw power he was sending out overwhelmed the dueling badge, taking down the dampening spells. We stopped the duel to replace the badges. Were it not for the dueling badges, the level of power he displayed would have defeated me."

"This is most disconcerting, Severus. I heard through Goyle that you defeated Potter. I was unaware of the incident with the dueling badge. For a dueling badge to fail is most unusual."

"Most unusual indeed, my lord. Ollivander himself made these badges, so it is not an issue of the quality of the badge. I can attest to the fact that the badge did fail. Potter was casting a series of freezing and flaming hexes at me and I felt the effects more strongly with each casting until Weasley realized what was happening and stopped the duel. Potter's badge was singed at the edges. Once the badge was replaced so the dampening affects were in place, we restarted the duel. With less power, Potter's lack of finesse makes him vulnerable. With full power, I believe you alone may have the power to defeat him, regardless of Potter's mediocre dueling skills."

Voldemort leaned back, pensive. His red eyes caught Severus' and the invasion began. Knowing what the Dark Lord wanted, Severus allowed him to travel to the place in his mind where an edited version of the duel replayed for Voldemort to witness. Completing that, the Dark Lord moved onto other memories. Severus, brewing Blood Replenishing potion for the hospital wing. Dumbledore and McGonagall discussing Potter's rebelliousness. The woman with curly brown hair and her wrists tied to the headboard wrapping her legs around him as Severus pounded into her. Draco nodding assent as Severus explained the plans for his attendance at Avalon College. After seeing what he wanted, Voldemort withdrew from Severus' mind.

"It is as you say, my son. The power is certainly there, but he lacks knowledge of dueling strategy. At the point you pinned him down; he showed the impulsiveness I have seen in him before. You made him angry and he was losing control. The same thing happened when Bellatrix taunted him in the Ministry of Magic. We must keep that in mind and use it. He can be provoked into errors," Voldemort paused, thoughtful, "Fatal errors."

The red eyes returned to Severus. "You enjoyed yourself with that woman in Chicago, did you not?"

Severus looked away in apparent embarrassment.

"There is a potion I use on occasion that allows me to do so. As long as I have all night to make use of it and no other responsibilities until the effects subside…." Severus lifted his head and looked at the Dark Lord. "It cannot be used for just one single experience. It creates a compulsion and need to repeat the act multiple times. I cannot use it to join my brothers in their occasional pleasures during raids."

"I know you prefer privacy for your encounters, Severus," said Voldemort, his red eyes glowing but his face expressionless. "You are a valued member of my inner circle and I will not make you an evening's entertainment. If there should be a Muggle woman you find of interest during a celebration, I will grant you privilege to take her elsewhere and enjoy her. You need only make your preference known."

Voldemort rose to his feet. Taking the cue, Severus stood.

"I congratulate you again on your ability to take advantage of situations as they present themselves. You gained useful intelligence on our enemies and proved your worth once again. Continue to monitor the situation at Hogwarts and keep me informed." Voldemort held out his hand. Severus dropped to one knee and kissed the ring as expected.

"It is my honor to serve, master," replied Severus. At Voldemort's signal, Severus rose and backed out of the room with a final bow. He was pleased to see Pettigrew was nowhere in sight, allowing him to leave without further sniping at the little wretch.

The November air was chill as Severus apparated back to Hogwarts. He pulled his cloak tighter about his lean frame and took the path by Hagrid's hut. Looking at the position of the moon, it looked to be after midnight. He was halfway to the secret entrance to the dungeons through Astronomy Tower when he heard a woman's voice screaming from high above him.

"We had a deal, you bloody bastard!"

Severus broke into a run.

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Thanks to Princessfiona, Severus-Fan, Not Surprised, and Amrun for their comments.


	17. Chapter 17

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun. And I have no ability to resist the requests from my kind reviewers to post this chapter after the cliffhanger at the end of the last one. Thank you to Severus Fan, Lady Rhian, Princessfiona, and Phoenix Flight. Special thanks to Amrun for coaching grammar and punctuation. You would not believe how long it has been since college English class.

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Hermione, November 15, 1997

"We had a deal, you bloody bastard!" Hermione screamed at the moonlit sky. Her hand shook as she waived a fist in the general direction of the moon. Her voice broke into sobs as she sank to the stone floor of Astronomy Tower.

_It's all my fault._

She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, dropping her face onto her arms. Hermione rocked back and forth as sobs shook her frame. A few minutes passed and the sobs quieted. The shaking ceased. Hermione lifted her tear-stained face and wiped at it with her hand. She began to fish around in her jacket pocket where she found a handkerchief. She wiped her face and blew her nose.

The distinctive creak of the Astronomy Tower door opening was followed by the sounds of soft footsteps.

"Damn. I'm busted," she muttered. Hermione rested her chin on her knees and waited to be apprehended. The footsteps stopped in front of her. A pair of black boots peeked out from beneath a heavy black cloak and robes. Hermione looked up.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Good evening, Miss Granger. May I inquire where your companion is?" Severus' face was shadowed as he stood with his back to the moon.

"My companion? I'm alone, sir."

"You were shouting at someone. I believe you referred to him as '_you bloody bastard'_," replied Severus, looking around for the missing companion.

"Oh, him. That would be God, sir." Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure if He's here, but if He is, please feel free to give Him detention. May I suggest Mr. Filch, a toothbrush, and a lot of bedpans?"

"Ah. Well, in that case perhaps we could sit on the bench by the wall where it is warmer. You may explain to me exactly what it is you are doing up here." Severus stepped back as Hermione got to her feet. He walked over to the bench, where he cast a warming charm. With a wave, he indicated she should sit down. Hermione took a seat and the Professor sat down beside her.

"As you were saying, Miss Granger?" asked Severus.

"I came up here to have a few words with God. I thought there might be some shouting going on and I wanted to get outside the castle where I could yell at Him and not be overheard."

"You were overheard anyway. I could hear you at half the distance from here to Professor Hagrid's hut." Severus looked down at the young woman sitting beside him. Her bushy hair was loose and hid most of her face from him. She raised her head and her hair fell back, moonlight shining on delicate features.

Hermione turned to him and asked softly; "Professor Snape, have you ever made a deal with God?"

"I do not believe so, Miss Granger."

"I did. Or at least I thought I did. It was after Fifth Year and all that mess at the Ministry of Magic. That whole year was horrible. Umbridge was running things; Harry kept going back and forth between being an emotional basket case and being furious with everyone around him. Then when he got tricked by Voldemort..."

"Stop!" hissed Severus. "Do not say that name around someone who bears the Dark Mark. It can trigger his awareness. Do you understand?"

Hermione looked up at him, surprised. "Is that why I've only ever heard you refer to him as the Dark Lord?"

"That phrase is safe to use. It does not trigger the Mark," emphasized Severus.

"I apologize, sir. I really didn't know. That's fascinating." Hermione shook her head in amazement.

"I am pleased to have added to your education tonight, Miss Granger," replied Severus, his voice rich with sarcasm. "Please continue."

"Oh, right." Hermione looked back up at the moon. "Anyway the whole year was terrible and then we got manipulated into that battle at the Ministry. If it hadn't been for you getting word to Dumbledore, we'd all be dead. I know you never had much use for Sirius Black, but he loved Harry. His death, combined with all of us getting hurt tore Harry to pieces. Everything that happened made me rethink everything I believed in or thought I knew. I realized I needed to do things very differently." Hermione looked down at her hands, clasped on her lap.

"It changed everything. I understood a lot more about my relationship with Harry and Ron and what they needed my role to be. They needed me to do a lot more listening and a lot less talking. Then, maybe I could anticipate when one of them was likely to go off and do something impulsive. I could make them slow down and help them think things through.But, I needed to do it without it sounding like bossing. It wasn't easy to learn to do it differently, but things have gone better since. Fundamentally, they both need to be loved by someone who will love them no matter what."

"To be honest, I still judge them. After all, someone has to decide when they're about to be impulsive or stupid. But, I handle it differently. I ask them to explain what they're thinking and how they came to the conclusions they did. Then I offer alternatives. Usually, if I can get them to stop and listen, they'll make a better decision."

Hermione looked back at Professor Snape. "That was the start of the deal with God. I offered to make changes. I promised to do things differently, if He'd just protect the people I love. I knew the smart thing for Harry, Ron, and everyone else was for me to take a low profile and attract less attention for being a Muggleborn overachiever. So, I took myself out of the running for the Head Girl position. I'll own to having enough of an ego that I couldn't bring myself to give up being a Prefect."

Hermione met Snape's eyes. He was looking at her closely and she began to feel a little intimidated. She straightened up and squared her shoulders.

"I decided to behave differently in class. I stopped trying to answer every question and waited until I was called on. I figured I could continue to put the work into my homework, projects, and studying while attracting less attention in class. So I wouldn't attract attention from the children of Death Eaters or the Death Eater wannabes."

Snape looked down at her. "I noticed a difference in your behavior in class, as did the other teachers. I believe it was a topic of discussion during a staff meeting where the consensus was essentially that Miss Granger was growing up."

"Maybe growing up was a part of it," Hermione replied. "At the time, it was a conscious decision. I thought it would make things easier on Harry and Ron and keep my parents safer. I realized the bigger the target on my back, the bigger the target on theirs. I was doing so many things to attract attention to myself. I was Harry's friend, a Muggleborn, aspiring Head Girl, and determined to get the best grades of anyone in the history of Hogwarts. I wanted to show I could do it, even though I hadn't been born to any of it. But there were too many people who thought of it as a Muggleborn showing up Purebloods."

"That's when I really understood the danger my parents were in without any means of defense. It's one of the reasons I decided to go to Avalon College. It would get me out of the limelight, which could only be safer for Mum and Dad."

Hermione's voice started to choke. "It didn't work very well, did it? They went after them anyway."

"Miss Granger." Professor Snape's soft voice interrupted.

"You don't understand, sir. My parents gave up so much for me. Did you know my mother was 41 when I was born? My father was 54? Among wizards, that's no big deal, but among Muggles it's very late to start having children. They'd tried to have a child for years and finally gave up. That's when I came along. There's probably not a child anywhere who was wanted more desperately by two people than I was."

"Because of their ages when I was conceived, the doctor told them my mother should have tests to make sure I wasn't going to be born with Downs Syndrome or other disability. Mum could have an abortion if I was going to be born 'defective'. Mum and Dad would have no part of it. They wanted a healthy baby, but if God was going to give them a child with a disability, they were fine with it. They counted themselves lucky to have any child at all."

"Then things started happening when I was little, like the times things would break when I got angry. They knew I was different. When my Hogwarts letter arrived, it started making a lot more sense to them. I was different, but I was given something extra, something special. They were thrilled for me. They encouraged me every step of the way, even though it meant I was going to live in a world they'd never really understand or be a part of. They approved of it because I wanted it so badly."

Tears started to pour down Hermione's face.

"And what did it get them? It got them killed. All they did wrong was make the genetics come together in a way that produced a witch instead of a regular Muggle child and they were murdered for it."

Hermione's shaking hands went to her mouth. "It's all my fault. Why wasn't I there? If I were there, at least they would have had a fighting chance. Why couldn't the Death Eaters have come a week later? We would have been at Avalon for parents' weekend. We wouldn't have been home. They'd still be alive."

She choked on the words, the anger combined with pain and tears filling her voice. "He's supposed to see all, know all, and be so damn powerful. How much would it have taken for God to rearrange things just a little so they didn't have to fucking _die_?"

Hermione's voice fell to a whisper, "The final part of the deal was if the Death Eaters came, they were to come _for me_. For me, I'm the witch. Never for them."

Hermione buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and she realized at some point she had allowed herself to lean into the body beside her. As the tears began to subside, she dropped her hands from her face and opened her eyes. A hand held out a plain white handkerchief embroidered with a black 'S' in the corner. Hermione took it and wiped her face and hands.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry I cried on you," she whispered.

"The left side of my cloak is quite damp, but a drying charm should take care of it," Severus answered gently. "I have never been a parent, Miss Granger, but I have been dealing with them for quite some time. I know with absolute confidence the last thoughts your parents had were something along the lines of '_Thank God, Hermione's not here. Thank God she's safe'._"

"Perhaps in those final moments, whatever deities there may be decided to answer their prayers and not yours."

He paused for a moment, "As terrible as it is to be the survivor with all of the guilt that goes with it, your parents would not want for one single instant to have you be there and _die with them_. Because that is exactly what would have happened. You could never have stood alone against the Death Eaters who attacked them. You simply would have died, too."

"In the last few years, I have dealt with parents on both sides of this issue. With few exceptions, the feelings expressed by those parents have been a desire to keep their children out of this conflict. The parents would prefer to face whatever danger there is alone and not expose their children to a problem they consider to be not of their making."

"What is more, Miss Granger, your parents were not targeted because of who and what you are. They were targeted because of who and what they were. The five families who were attacked that night were parents of Muggleborns, but the parents were all successful, prosperous, upstanding citizens. Nicola Andropoulus was a Third Year of no particular skill, intelligence, or merit as a witch. Her parents were targeted because her father was an attaché at the Greek Embassy. Stephen Woodville will be an average wizard, at best. His family was targeted because his mother was a barrister and his father a prominent businessman."

"Your parents were targeted not because of you, but because they were dentists, professional people who were well respected in the community. The Dark Lord's message was to the parents, telling them not to send their children to Hogwarts because it will get their families killed. His intent is to frighten Muggle parents into withdrawing their children."

Severus took a breath, "I deeply regret that I was not in a position to learn about what was planned before the families were attacked. I was unable to prevent any of it."

Hermione straightened up and wiped her eyes again. "Professor McGonagall told me that Vol, erm, the Dark Lord kept his plans a secret from anyone except the members of the strike team. It's hardly your fault," replied Hermione, shaking her head.

"Regardless. The night of the attacks, I was in Chicago visiting the campus." Professor Snape shook his head when Hermione offered to return his handkerchief. "I would say keep it, but it would be wiser to destroy it. A Gryffindor witch cannot be walking around with a handkerchief easily recognized as belonging to the Head of House of Slytherin. If I take it back, the house elves will be gossiping about why Professor Snape's handerchief was soaked with tears."

Hermione gave a watery chuckle, "I guess it would be suspicious, sir." Hermione put the handkerchief in her pocket.

"You visited the campus? What did you think of it? Professor McGonagall passed word to me that you approved of the Potions Program, but she didn't mention you'd actually gone to the campus."

"It was impressive. I wish there had been something like it when I was your age. After meeting with some of the faculty, seeing the facilities, learning about the international cadre of students, I am impressed. I believe the grand experiment has potential to be very successful. The concept of the wizarding college may one day provide serious competition to the apprenticeship system."

"Do you agree with my decision to go?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. For the reasons you already mentioned and others. You will have an opportunity for a good education. The manner in which Muggle science is integrated into the curriculum will give you an edge. When I took my apprenticeship and decided to supplement it with Muggle science classes, it was a completely radical notion at the time. Knowledge is knowledge, wherever it comes from," replied Severus.

"I've submitted an application to the college," explained Hermione. "My parents already put the money for my first year of college into my Gringott's account, so I can afford it. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are helping me with settling the estate. I'm selling the house and most of the furnishings. Between that, the insurance, and selling my parents' dental practice I can afford the six years and then some if I'm not extravagant about buying books."

"I can assure you, purchasing books will be only one of the temptations you will find in Chicago. It is quite cosmopolitan and the campus is right in the middle of one of the most commercial areas in the city. It will be very different from having the temptations of occasional Hogsmeade weekends and biannual trips to Diagon Alley," snorted Severus, thinking back to his weekend in the city.

"I'm usually pretty sensible about things."

"Then I suggest you use your good sense. Sitting alone at the top of Astronomy Tower at 1:00 in the morning is foolish. Consider if some of the Death Eater 'wannabes' discovered Harry Potter's best friend was here unattended. You would be vulnerable to all forms of mayhem. If you feel the need to shout at God again, I recommend you use the Room of Requirement," suggested Professor Snape.

"No. I think I've gotten the need to yell out of my system, sir."

Severus looked at her gently, "Then what is the lesson you have learned from this?"

"God doesn't make deals," said Hermione sadly as she looked back up at the moon, "And outcomes are not negotiable."

"You cannot take responsibility for the actions of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters," added Severus, "And if thoughts of revenge should come to mind, I will speak on your parents' behalf. They would not want you to seek revenge that would cost you your own life. I guarantee that seeking revenge for them will get you killed. Your parents would want you to live, to pursue your own future, and make a life for yourself."

"Thank you Professor. You've helped me clarify some things in my head." Hermione looked at Professor Snape, her expression serious. "When I leave, I'll be pretty far away most of the time, but I plan on coming back regularly. We've still got a war going on, I'm a member of the Order, and my friends are in the middle of all this. I realize I'm not a fighter the way they are. If I'm working towards the equivalent of Potions' mastery and can be of assistance to you in developing or brewing potions for the Order, I hope you'll allow me. At least I can contribute in that way."

Snape stood and looked down at Hermione. "I will consider your offer, Miss Granger. However, I believe you need to graduate first and you have classes starting in about six hours. I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione stood and followed Professor Snape towards the door. "What time should I show up for detention for being outside after curfew?"

"Will I find you out past curfew again?"

"No, sir," replied Hermione thoughtfully, "I did risk making myself a target. I won't do it again."

"In that case, a detention will not teach you anything you do not already know," stated Severus. "I will take you at your word. However, if I catch you again, I will deduct House points and send you to Mr. Filch with your toothbrush in hand."

Professor Snape opened the door and stood aside so Hermione could precede him. She looked up as she walked by him into the stairway.

"You have my word, Professor."

Severus followed Hermione down the stairs. "Then I believe the matter is resolved, Miss Granger."


	18. Chapter 18

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Amrun for taking on beta responsibilities. Her suggestions and proofreading are making this a better story. A round of applause, if you please.

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Hermione, July 3, 1998

Hermione sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, nursing a cup of tea and nibbling on a piece of dry toast. The graduation party had run late last night and she'd had too much to drink. She wasn't the only one -- Ron and Harry were still sleeping it off. At least she hadn't gotten nearly as pissed as the two of them, though to be honest, it was mostly because if she'd had any more alcohol she would have gotten sick. Ron, on the other hand, spent a portion of the evening praying to the porcelain gods, after which Bill and Charlie poured him into bed. The last she'd heard from Harry, he was arm-in-arm with Fred and George singing the Hogwarts school song, badly off-key.

At least she hadn't done anything too embarrassing, other than telling every member of the Weasley family how much she really, really loved them. There would probably be some harassment over that one from her adopted brothers, especially Fred and George, but fortunately, she didn't make nearly as good a target as Ron and Harry. She could expect some mercy from Molly and Arthur, though Bill and Charlie seemed to think she'd been pretty funny at the time.

Percy wasn't there, of course. His estrangement from the family was now virtually complete. Arthur ran into him now and then at the Ministry where Percy worked in the Department of Magical Imports. Ever since Arthur noticed Percy wore only long-sleeved robes, even in midsummer, they'd had nothing to say to each other. Hermione knew that Ron and his brothers shared a fear that one day they would come face-to-face with their own brother who was fighting for the wrong side.

Several Order members stopped by the party in the course of the evening. Tonks arrived early with a bottomless pitcher of a Muggle drink she called a Mudslide. Hermione discovered she really liked Mudslides, tasty concoctions with the texture and flavor of a chocolate milkshake and a kick of something extra.

Remus arrived shortly after, along with two large bottles of Firewhiskey that he shared liberally with Ron, Harry, and the Weasley men. The boys were being quite manly about the whole thing, drinking stuff that tasted to her like rubbing alcohol mixed with road tar. Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore even joined in the celebration for a while. Professor McGonagall had a few glasses of firewhiskey, while Headmaster Dumbledore shared the pitcher of Mudslides with Tonks, Molly, Hermione, and Fred who decided he liked the sweeter drink. Ginny grumbled loudly at being restricted to butterbeer.

Hermione suspected it was Dumbledore who got Harry singing the Hogwarts song.

She didn't mind in the least when everyone raised their glasses and toasted her for graduating at the head of her class.

Her stomach settling down, Hermione contemplated whether or not she could tolerate a little of Molly's homemade strawberry jam on the toast. She decided to be daring and take the risk.

Hermione sighed as her mind traveled back through her time at Hogwarts. She and her two best friends made it through the challenges of the Philosopher's Stone, a confiscated Firebolt, staying awake during Binns' classes, OWLs, the Tri Wizarding Tournament, homework, puberty, a Deathday party, the Ministry of Magic, dementors, insults from Draco Malfoy, Fluffy, sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library, Umbridge, brewing Polyjuice in a bathroom, dances, a basilisk, and even surviving Potions.

At the beginning, the wizarding world was an utter mystery. It was like finding the most wonderful birthday present, wrapped and waiting to be opened. Harry saw it the same way and was just as eager as she was to explore every nook and cranny. Born into a large magical family, Ron was their guide through much of it at the beginning. He took magic for granted and understood wizarding culture in a way that only someone immersed in it since birth possibly could. Hermione liked to think she'd helped Ron to learn to appreciate the bits and pieces of the Muggle world she brought with her.

Their classroom experiences taught them about the magical world in a formal way, but their illicit adventures revealed the darker side the teachers would have preferred remain undiscovered. Yet, it was those painful and frightening experiences that solidified their friendship and forced their magic to evolve beyond the formal lessons. The three of them could not be who and what they were now, if not for those experiences. Still, it was hard to see their school days pass. She would miss the moving staircases, the library, tea with Hagrid, and all the little things that had become such an important part of her life.

The last two weeks of school were tense. As if Newts weren't bad enough, everyone expected Voldemort to launch some kind of attack against Harry. With a pattern of attempts occurring at the end of the school year, the Headmaster persuaded Madame Bones to post Aurors at the school. The Leaving Ceremony saw red Auror uniforms liberally interspersed with the dress robes of graduates, families, and teachers. Voldemort must have taken it seriously,because the Death Eaters stayed away.

A year ago, NEWTs and the Leaving Ceremony seemed so far away. Now, it was done – history - and Hermione, Harry, and Ron were getting ready to move on to the next phases in their lives.

Harry and Ron received their acceptance notices for the Aurory. They had three years of training ahead as apprentice Aurors and were scheduled to report to the Academy on July 20. Ron was going to live at the Burrow while Harry was going to move into the Order's Headquarters with Remus. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion Ron planned to move into the Headquarters before too long, making it the official Order of the Phoenix bachelor pad.

She felt good about the arrangement. It would allow her three friends to spend time together and look out for each other. The last survivor of his parents' close friends, Remus was the next best thing to an uncle Harry had. Hermione knew he would be a steadying influence for Ron and Harry. With Hermione heading off to college, she wouldn't be around to keep them from doing those stupid and impulsive things she'd talked to Professor Snape about. She was counting on Remus to take over that responsibility.

Hermione was scheduled to leave in a week to begin class at Avalon College. Her acceptance letter arrived in February and she'd been preparing herself for the inevitable separation from her friends. After all, they were growing up and it meant they would go in separate directions to train for their chosen careers. During Sixth Year, Harry and Ron tried to persuade her to apply to the Aurory with them. It took a couple of heart-to-heart talks before they gave up on it. Hermione knew her strengths lay in research and strategy rather than fighting on the front lines. She believed she could contribute far more to the cause by developing weapons than by wielding them.

On July 13, Hermione would begin her first class at Avalon College. It was an intensive six-week course on computers targeted at students who had little or no experience with them. Hermione felt she was a little ahead of the game. Unlike many of the wizarding students who had never even flipped on a light switch, her Muggle background gave her some exposure to computers. Her parents had one at their dental office and Hermione had played around with it. At least she knew how to use a mouse, play Solitaire, and do some basics.

It was exciting and frightening to think of leaving. She was ready for a completely new experience in her education. She hoped her classes would be difficult. Hermione was ready to be challenged. The frightening part was the prospect of living in a foreign country.

She'd be alone there, starting over with making friends and learning her way around. The last time she was in that situation was when she first came to Hogwarts. Her initial efforts to make friends and fit in had been an absolute disaster. It wasn't until Harry and Ron bonded with her over knocking out the troll in the girls' bathroom that Hermione made any real friends at all. Hermione was reasonably certain there weren't too many mountain trolls in downtown Chicago, so she couldn't rely on one to facilitate friend making. She'd probably have to use her own social skills and that idea didn't make her feel entirely secure.

Hermione knew how important it was to feel connected to other people. Her friendships with Harry and Ron were the foundation of her emotional life at Hogwarts. She and Harry were both only children in the true sense of things, but between the three of them and the welcoming arms of Ron's family, they had found the siblings and friends they lacked. Molly and Arthur seemed to have unlimited resources when it came to love.

They took to orphaned Harry right from the start. Hermione remembered how happy Harry was after the short time he spent with the Weasleys before the start of Second Year. They looked after him, took him shopping for school supplies, and treated him just like one of their own brood. From everything he'd told her, Hermione knew Harry sorely lacked that kind of acceptance growing up with the Dursleys. Every year during the long lonely summers, Harry counted the days till he could rejoin the Weasleys and be a part of their family.

Hermione's situation was different. She was close to her parents, but they were much older than her peers' parents tended to be. When she left for Hogwarts, her father was sixty-five and her mother was fifty-two. Her relationship with them was far more sedate than that of the rambunctious Weasleys. In some ways, it was like being raised by grandparents rather than parents.

Hermione had always felt secure in their love and unconditional acceptance. With their loss, that foundation was gone. If the Weasleys hadn't stepped in, Hermione knew she would have foundered much more than she did. Not only did they take her step-by-step through the legalities and clearing up the estate, but enveloped her with the same kind of welcoming love they'd given Harry. It had helped her cope and gave her a sense that she still belonged somewhere.

Molly and Arthur even offered her a home. Hermione would live in the dorm during term. Even if she took classes every summer, there would be holidays and time between semesters when she couldn't live there. Her bedroom furniture from home fit nicely in Percy's old room and gave her a sense of home. She promised herself she would contribute to the household expenses whenever she stayed. If they wouldn't accept money, she'd at least bring home food and help with cooking and cleaning.

The wizarding world held a different attitude towards the chastity of young women than the Muggle world. If Remus, Harry, and Ron were living at the Order's headquarters, Hermione couldn't. It would be an absolute scandal for a young woman to live with three single men. Living with the Weasleys was the equivalent of living with her parents. It had the added bonus of giving her more time with Ginny, who felt alone now that she was the only Weasley student left at Hogwarts.

There was another reason to be happy about going to Avalon College, one Hermione hadn't mentioned to anyone. It was a chance to meet men.

At Hogwarts, Hermione Granger was relegated to the status of spinster-in-the-making. She was Harry and Ron's best friend, always ready to help another student with their homework, and occasionally good as an agony aunt, but to think of Hermione as first choice for a girlfriend, a date for the dance, or a potential lover? Never.

Granted, there'd been the Yule Ball with Victor Krum during her Fourth Year. That was a complete surprise to the school when plain bookworm Hermione Granger managed to be the date of a Quidditch superstar. They'd corresponded for a while, but there was no chance a relationship could work between an eighteen year old male and a fifteen year old girl when the male had groupies offering lots and lots of sex and the girl wasn't so inclined. Victor appreciated that she had a mind and she enjoyed their non-Quidditch discussions, but Hermione wasn't the least bit interested in becoming the flavor of the month.

Hermione and Ron had a bit of a flirtation for a while, but all it took was one kiss with tongue included to convince them both it would never work. Hermione did not have a brother, but she was certain kissing Ron felt as wrong as if he were one. From the perspective of two years later, Hermione knew they'd both called that one right.

Every other date she had ever had was to the obligatory dances at Hogwarts. She went with Neville once when neither of them had anyone else to go with. Seamus took her another time right after he broke up with his steady girlfriend. Todd Brimley from Ravenclaw took her once and then left the party with Parvati when it became obvious how well they suited each other. Hermione was the spare date, the fill-in, and the reasonably nice girl who could be counted on to help out in a pinch.

Everyone in school knew if they tried to put the moves on Hermione, they'd be answering to Harry and Ron. She knew the two of them felt there wasn't anyone good enough for her. With those two guarding her virtue, she might as well take the veil.

That was the total of Hermione Granger's romantic experience. She'd like to think she hadn't topped out during her Fourth Year, but the well had pretty much run dry after that. Hermione knew she scared the hell out of most boys. She couldn't think of a single boy at Hogwarts who was as smart as she was. Add the personal intimidation factor to the Harry and Ron factor and you have a lot of dateless Saturday nights.

America was called The Land of Opportunity and Hermione intended to take full advantage of it. Avalon College would have over a thousand students this fall with a high probability half of them would be male. If she discounted the ones who were gay, generously estimating ten percent, that left about four hundred and fifty heterosexual males. If half of them were committed to girlfriends already, that left two hundred and twenty-five available men. If she restricted herself to considering only those who were well above average intelligence, were reasonably ambitious, and magically capable, there had to be a pool of males who would be interesting to Hermione Granger.

She was tempted to run the Arithmancy on it and determine exactly how many likely candidates there were.

She had no intention of going boy crazy like she'd seen Lavender, Parvati, and several of her female classmates do. That sort of behavior seemed absurd and ridiculously immature, but it would be nice to have a date on a Saturday night. If it were the right guy, it would certainly be nice to be touched for a change.

Sharing a room with other girls at Hogwarts had been both educational and inhibiting. She knew 'things' went on, but had too much pride to engage in that kind of behavior when other women were around. This left her with the bathtub as the only place she could explore her own body. She listened to the conversations that Lavender and Parvati had about how they fingered themselves into orgasm and she read what little was available in Hogwarts library, but it left her woefully uneducated in the area of self-gratification. She used her own hand, but couldn't quite get it right and ended up leaving herself frustrated every time she tried. She understood there were devices available in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds that could accomplish the task, but she didn't have access to either, not even factoring in the privacy issue.

At Avalon, she would have a private room and share a bath with one other person. While she couldn't imagine herself walking into an adult toy store, she knew there were catalogs where such things could be purchased and shipped through the mail. She had every intention of locating one of those catalogs and getting herself a nice vibrator. She didn't think she'd want to use it internally. After all, there was something very romantic about the idea of being intact during her first sexual encounter with someone she loved. But she knew it could be used externally to achieve a climax and boy, was she ever ready for one of those. It would be her graduation present to herself -- the gift that keeps on giving.

She already knew the fantasy she wanted to use. It had been building in her mind for a while when she unsuccessfully tried to bring herself to orgasm. She could never see his face, but she could see his hands. He had graceful probing hands with long slender fingers. She could imagine being caressed and stroked _everywhere_ with those hands, even invaded by those fingers. She tried to imagine his cock, but didn't have a good sense of what an erect one would really look and feel like. She had a difficult time imagining how one could be hard enough to get inside her, move in and out, and stay that way. It might be the kind of thing you couldn't understand without actual experience. Meanwhile, she thought she could do just fine with imagining his fingers and how they would work. She just needed some help to bring the fantasy to the proper conclusion.

Of course the best possibility would be to find The Right Wizard, the man she could love and who would love her. She'd had little opportunity to find him as of yet, but she believed she had the capacity to love someone. She imagined sharing academic interests and studying together. Perhaps he'd enjoy science and potions as much as she did.

Maybe the best way to evaluate prospective Mr. Rights was to assess their personal libraries. She couldn't imagine wanting someone who didn't own a lot of books and at least eighty percent of them had to be non-fiction. Hermione smiled as she thought about running a personal ad. Single witch seeks long-term relationship with intelligent wizard with long fingers and an excellent non-fiction library. Now _that_ would bring the relationship down to the fundamentals!

Meanwhile, she had a full week of vacation to spend with Harry, Ron and the Weasleys. She could sleep late and have some fun. There wasn't much packing for her to do. She had packed everything when she left Hogwarts and intended to live out of her suitcase for the next week. She didn't plan to do much shopping before she got to Chicago, figuring she might as well buy new clothing in the city as to fit in with the other students.

There were a few things she wanted to get in Diagon Alley. She needed some new robes for home visits. She wanted to get some things to fit her new adult status, rather than the typical schoolgirl garb she'd always worn. Adult witches wore dresses to their ankles and their hair up. Hermione thought she would look good like that and intended to visit a hairdresser and Madame Malkin's.

Finishing her toast, Hermione poured another cup of tea. She heard someone stirring upstairs and figured she'd have company before long. She felt a pinch at the nape of her neck and reached up to pull a bit of her hair loose that was caught in the clasp of the chain she wore. She slid her fingers along the fine chain down to the pendant that rested below the hollow of her throat. She pulled it out and looked down to see the triple moon in silver and moonstone. Silver surrounded a moonstone cabochon in the center of the pendent, flanked by slivers of the waxing and waning moons on either side.

The silver chain and pendent were a graduation gift from Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Minerva, as the Professor had asked to be addressed by the newly designated adult, selected the pendent because it represented the Goddess. The three phases of the moon represented the three phases of a woman's life: maiden, matron, and crone. Professor Dumbledore's gift was to charm it as a two-way portkey. One password would transport Hermione by portkey to the Avalon College campus. A second password would bring Hermione to The Burrow. It was difficult and complex magic to charm one object for two destinations. It was a very considerate and practical gift that would make her travel back and forth to America much easier.

The Goddess pendent was a very deliberate choice on Minerva's part. After that night in November when Hermione had her confrontation with God, Hermione found herself increasingly drawn to the Goddess aspect of the Creator. She wasn't sure she believed God and Goddess were two separate entities, but she could easily perceive them as different halves of the Creator force. She talked to Minerva about her crisis of faith and learned about her teacher's belief in Wicca. Minerva found her own comfort in the Goddess and provided Hermione with books to read and time to ask questions and discuss issues of faith.

Hermione was still rather angry with God and initially turned to the Goddess as a rejection of Him. Over time, her relationship with the Goddess was less about rejecting God and more about cherishing the nurturing aspects of nature. Hermione viewed the Goddess as supportive and gentle, cherishing all life as the mother of all things. She identified with these qualities and in doing so, identified with the Goddess. The conversations she had had with God before now took place with the Goddess. Hermione felt she had reconnected with the sacred and treasured the symbol her mentor had given her.

She set up a small meditation altar on her dresser as she'd seen some other students do. A tiny vase held one single fresh flower from the garden. She kept two candles, one in red for wisdom and one in white for purity of purpose. Two quartz crystals represented her parents. She often held them in her hands as she held her conversations with the Goddess. She hadn't found an appropriate statue to represent Her, but she intended to look for one in Diagon Alley or Chicago.

Her conversation with Professor Snape had helped her to cope better with the loss of her parents. He was the last person she would have predicted able to help her. As she thought back to that chilly night on the top of Astronomy Tower, she realized he had actually said very little, but she knew he listened intently as she laid her soul bare and did not mock or taunt her for anything she said.

Professor Snape had spoken to her about how her parents would not have wanted her to be there the night the Death Eaters came. His words got through to her more than anything anyone else's had throughout the whole ordeal. She remembered the hand on her shoulder and how he allowed her to cry herself out. There was genuine and unexpected comfort there. After that night, the horrible nightmares that plagued her had diminished for a while. The dreams tended to come back when she was tired or stressed. The last two weeks of school had been dreadful and the nightmares had returned. She reached the point where she was functioning on three or four hours of sleep a night. It was better since she returned to the Burrow.

Hermione knew the reason Professor Snape did not behave like a sarcastic bastard towards her that night was because they were alone. If anyone else had been present, even Dumbledore, he would not have resisted playing the role, perhaps out of years of habit. If she learned one thing about the professor from the night on Astronomy Tower and the evening when she first discussed Avalon College at the Order's headquarters, it was that part of being the sarcastic bastard was an act. Not that he was at risk of turning into a nice person, but he was not as nasty as he portrayed in front of a classroom.

Professor Snape had complimented her talent for potions, even with the disclaimer. He even visited the college to see if it could provide her with a good education in potions. A complete bastard wouldn't have done any of those things. The Professor Snape who took House points because of a hair on the side of her cauldron was not the man who handed her his handkerchief when she wept.

She wondered if he knew she that she figured out what he was doing with House points. The more House points he took from Gryffindor for some fabricated failing on her part, the more he was complimenting her work. Within the next few days, Professor McGonagall would award her, Harry, or Ron an equal number of points to replace what he'd taken. Now that she was gone from Hogwarts, Hermione would make a point of thanking the Professor sometime when she saw him.

She wasn't going to tell him she kept his handkerchief. It would probably annoy him to think _a silly little girl_ from Gryffindor found it comforting. It didn't look the same. Hermione charmed the embroidered black "S" into white so it blended in with the rest of the handkerchief. She carried it with her in her book bag, taking it out and holding it when the feelings of loss got to her. She was glad she hadn't destroyed it as he had asked.

The noise she heard upstairs was now working its way downstairs. Hermione looked over her teacup to see Charlie in his bathrobe, looking tousled and just a bit hungover. She poured another cup of tea and held it out to him. Charlie worked his way over to the kitchen table and sat down, accepting the tea. He sat quietly for a moment, warming his hands around the cup. He gave her a bleary look, leaned forward and said, "We really, really love you, too Hermione."

Hermione dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

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Thank you to Aldara, Rinny 08, Bjornsdotter, Duj, Gemini 969, Paprika, Edania, Phoenix Flight, Selinabin, Claribel, Candledot, Evil Mastermind 666, Lady Rhian, and Severus-Fan for their reviews and comments.


	19. Chapter 19

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's Universe for fun.

Very special thanks to Amrun for her beta work. Her comments are insightful, helpful, and she's got the punctuation thing down pat.

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Severus, July 4, 1998

Severus sat at the small table in his sitting room, nursing a cup of tea and nibbling on a piece of dry toast. The graduation party ran late last night and he had had too much to drink. He was not the only one -- Severus was certain Draco and Lucius were still sleeping it off. There were moments when Severus especially appreciated his own talents as a Potions Master. After stumbling out of bed this morning, he had rummaged through a potions chest he kept on his dresser, pulled out a vial of hangover remedy and tossed it down. He had then selected another vial, a potion to settle his stomach, and swallowed the contents. He could have taken a sober-up potion last night, but why waste a really good buzz?

There is nothing in the world like an Old Ogden's Special Reserve buzz. One hundred fifty-year-old firewhiskey aged in oak casks made from trees cut in the Forbidden Forest and prepared with a recipe and charms more closely guarded by the Ogden family than the vaults in Gringott's Bank. If one could combine the finest silk and velvet in a liquid form, that concoction was Special Reserve. It was smooth and rich to the tongue, a warm burn sliding down the throat, and then a quiet rush of magic and intoxication moving directly to the brain. Severus suspected he was one of very few guests at the party to have the privilege of being served Special Reserve. Whenever his glass neared empty, Pudding showed up carrying a crystal decanter to refill it.

Other guests commented about the extravagance of being served Old Ogden's Silver Reserve, the fifty-year-old version of the drink he enjoyed. Leave it to the Malfoys to serve nothing less than eighty-galleon a bottle firewhiskey to the masses. His own liquor cabinet held two bottles of Old Ogden's Bronze Reserve, aged twenty-five years. An indulgence on a schoolteacher's salary, it was mellow enough to be palatable and still offered the legendary Ogden's kick.

Severus guessed there were plenty of other graduation parties being held this weekend where Ogden's five-years-fermented version was served. Severus had not touched that particular drink since he was in his early twenties. The closest he could come to describing the taste was rubbing alcohol combined with road tar. Drinking five-year-old Ogdens was more a rite of passage into young manhood than anything else. The sole purpose of the drink was to get blind drunk and then survive the hangover.

The Malfoys knew how to throw a society party. Lucius and Narcissa had pulled out all the stops to give Draco a graduation party that would set the standard in Pureblood circles for years to come. Guests included high society: old Pureblood names with money, old Pureblood names without money, wealthy newcomers, the politically important, and the Death Eater upper crust. Mulciber and Avery were present as sophisticated members of the inner circle, but not Crabbe and Goyle who were considered too gauche to be worthy guests.

Of course, the Lestranges were not invited given their legal status as escaped convicts. Bellatrix might be Narcissa's sister, but she was hardly acceptable to society. Even if dear Bella was not persona non grata, she was too macabre since her time in Azkaban to be anything but a wet blanket at a party. Two years ago, Cornelius Fudge would have been present, but having lost his post as Minister of Magic, he had been kicked off the 'A' list. These days, Fudge could not get an invitation to clean leaves from the gutters at Malfoy Manor.

The Manor was exquisitely decorated, as always. The party was held in the solarium and spilled out into the garden, taking advantage of the warm weather. The flowers of the formal garden were in full bloom and Narcissa placed fairy lights in the trees. The enchanted fountain featured life-size figurines of three exquisite and barely dressed witches who danced a graceful ballet as water poured from pitchers held in their hands.

Soft light combined with the scents of jasmine and roses. A string quartet played in the background as guests mingled in conversation or clustered at tables artfully scattered through the garden and the solarium. A buffet of expensive delicacies was set up in the solarium and house elves moved among the guests carrying trays of champagne flutes or finger foods.

The guests were as elegant as the setting. Wizards dressed in their most formal robes walked arm-in-arm with witches in silk gowns. Diamonds competed with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds for attention at the necks, wrists, and fingers of the ladies. The Beautiful People were even more beautiful tonight for the use of cosmetic glamours and attraction charms. Dancing couples moved in carefully rehearsed movements, reflecting years of ballroom dancing classes in their youth.

The obligatory table of gifts sat at one end of the solarium. It was piled three and four layers deep with brightly wrapped boxes, doubtlessly representing thousands of galleons of value. It was expected everyone would show the level of their respect for the Malfoy family through the extravagance of their gift.

The guest of honor performed perfectly in his role as the newly designated adult heir of the Malfoy line. Dressed in finely tailored robes in a soft summer gray, Draco looked like the hero of a romantic novel. He moved confidently among the guests, conversing comfortably with well wishers and sycophants, accepting congratulations as was his due.

Lucius announced early in the evening that Draco was going to the United States for advanced training in Charms. He portrayed the decision to take this unprecedented move as based in a desire to expand the Malfoy circle of influence and investments into new territory. The news was received with mixed reactions. Many congratulated the Malfoys on taking a bold move and urged Draco to do well in his new venture. Others reacted as if Lucius and Narcissa were sending their only child off to live with cannibals.

Severus watched the reactions around him with amusement. The guests had no idea that there were layers and layers of strategies built into the decision to send Draco to Avalon College -- and another decision, which no one present knew, to send a young woman there as well. The Malfoys did not know Hermione Granger would arrive in the dormitory the same weekend as Draco. Both were to start the computer training program on July 13. Severus made the decision not to tell them, knowing it would fit well into his strategies.

Severus intended to use Granger's presence to Draco's advantage. That it would also benefit the Order was a happy coincidence. He was confident the woman, as kind-hearted as she was, could be manipulated into doing what Severus needed.

Severus Snape was capable of mingling in Pureblood society when he absolutely needed to, but that did not mean he enjoyed it. Essentially a loner, he was uncomfortable in large social groups and did not enjoy gatherings where he knew relatively few people. Draco's graduation party met both these criterion. Early on, Severus stationed himself near the string quartet at the same table as Rose and Guy Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's parents. He suspected they felt as out of place as he did. They were middle class shopkeepers of a very old Pureblood name. Severus Snape was a schoolteacher with a very old Pureblood name. Professors and shopkeeps were not exactly considered the movers and shakers of society, as it were. Instead, they enjoyed the music and discussed the prospects of Slytherin having a good year in Quidditch with Gryffindor's best players having graduated. Pansy, along with Blaise Zabini, Adrian Pucey, Daphne Greengrass, and a few other newly graduated students stopped by and joined them in between sets of dancing. In the gaps in conversation, the three adults put on a good front of being fascinated by the string quartet. It gave Severus a chance to think.

He felt certain Granger could be talked into it. Genuine kindness ran deep in the girl. She certainly showed that to be the case with Mary Ellen Whitcomb. The child virtually attached herself to Granger after they both lost their families. Granger looked after her, in spite of her own emotional devastation, though the situation improved after friends of Dumbledore adopted the Whitcomb girl. She had gone to a middle-aged couple who found their empty nest too empty after their children grew up. He understood that the girl was settling in and doing reasonably well.

Severus was more impressed with Hermione Granger than he ever expected to be. She had grown up instantly that night in October. She handled her loss with a surprising amount of dignity. The night they had talked on Astronomy Tower had not changed his opinion of that. He was surprised the Gryffindor opened up to him as she did. Professor Snape was not the kind of person one shared confidences with. He surprised himself by his own response to her. He could hear the potential for her to turn bitter over her loss of her parents combined with a loss of faith in God. As one who was bitter about many things, he did not like to think of her ending up the same way. Perhaps that is why he found words that seemed to help her, remembering what that kind of loss was like.

"Keep it up and you will get a reputation. The next step will surely be writing an advice column in the Daily Prophet," Severus snorted to himself.

Overall, Severus's own machinations on behalf of the Order were progressing well. Lucius' capabilities as an Occlumens had grown. Draco started his lessons a few weeks ago. Over time, their abilities to block the Dark Lord from seeing selected memories would allow him to take the final step with the two of them, a critical step in undermining the Dark Lord. He would discuss it with Dumbledore soon.

Severus realized the party was winding down. The music stopped and elves were collecting empty glasses from the tables. Bidding a good evening to the Parkinsons, he rose and sought out his hosts who were sitting in the solarium. Lucius waved him over and offered him a seat. He signaled Pudding, who was instructed to bring the good professor a glass of refreshment. Narcissa took a plate of cold shrimp and set it before Severus, knowing how he favored it with horseradish sauce. Severus decided to indulge himself. As they spoke, he accumulated quite a pile empty of jumbo shrimp tails.

"Draco is looking forward to leaving for Chicago next weekend," remarked Narcissa. Whatever these 'computers' are, he seems intrigued by them. He insists he will certainly have to buy one to keep at the campus."

"When I visited, every classroom had one of the devices. The library had dozens and a room they called the computer lab must have had forty or fifty of the things. They may be a Muggle device, but apparently American wizards are quite taken with them," answered Severus.

"If it will give Draco an advantage, he must certainly have one," said Lucius. "When the Dark Lord and I discussed it, I made the point that to understand American wizards, Draco would have to live like one, even if it meant doing things and using things we would disapprove of. He agreed we would have to trust that Draco was raised with an understanding of the natural superiority of our own ways. The Dark Lord agreed, but Draco will need to be very careful and very discrete."

"Well," sighed Narcissa, "This morning, Draco had his nose buried in a book called _Personal Computers for Dummies_. He's spoken of nothing else since. He says he has to have access to this thing that allows computers to communicate with each other. I really do not understand what he is talking about."

"The instructors I spoke to called it the Internet," replied Severus. "I am uncertain of the appeal, but it seems to be popular. It would not be a bad idea for Draco to experiment with it."

"I suppose we must be prepared to tolerate radical ideas from our son," said Lucius smiling affectionately at Narcissa.

"As long as he is careful," she replied. Narcissa reached over and took her husband's hand.

The topic of conversation strolled into the solarium. Draco smiled as he saw his former Head of House sitting with his parents. Swiping a flute of champagne off a tray, he joined them.

"Professor, I am glad you were able to join us tonight." Draco eyed the now empty plate of shrimp and pile of empty shrimp tails. "May I get you more of those?"

"No thank you, Draco," laughed Severus, "I have overindulged as it is. And I believe it is now appropriate for you to address me as Severus."

"I am honored, sir. Addressing you in a way that would have resulted in losing House points might take some getting used to," teased Draco.

"You know I rarely take points from my own house, so you need not be concerned."

"Will I see you this week, Severus?" inquired Draco, his voice studiously casual.

"Severus is joining us for dinner Tuesday evening," interrupted his mother.

"I look forward to seeing you then. If you will excuse me, I will see the rest of our guests off." Draco rose and gave a respectful bow to the Professor and his parents.

"Good night, Draco," said Severus, "Congratulations on graduating with high honors."

"Thank you, sir. I will bid you goodnight," nodded Draco. Taking his champagne, Draco strode down the solarium towards the hallway that would take him to the front door of Malfoy Manor.

"You can be proud of him," remarked Severus, "He has matured a great deal in the last year."

"I believe the realization that adult expectations were about to be visited upon him had a great deal to do with it," observed Lucius.

"My compliments to both of you on an excellent party. I believe it is time for me to take my leave," said Severus, rising.

Narcissa laughed, "Do not think we failed to notice you hiding out with the Parkinsons. It was good of you to come. I know how you dislike crowds."

Lucius stood and offered Severus his hand, which Severus clasped.

"Until Tuesday evening, my friend," said Lucius.

"Until then," responded Severus. He released Lucius hand and bent over Narcissa's touching it with his lips. Within minutes, Severus was outside of the anti-apparition wards, disappearing as he returned to Hogwarts gates.

Severus leaned back in his chair, returning to the present from his reverie. His stomach was sufficiently settled and he addressed the rest of his breakfast: eggs, sausages, and apple juice. Everything had gone well with his plans. Tuesday evening, he would continue his Occlumency lessons with Lucius and Draco. There was much both men would need to hide from the Dark Lord if Severus' plan was to move forward.

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Many thanks to my reviewers: Gemini 969, Phoenix Flight, Severus Fan, Vennela, Evil Mastermind 666, Brother Chaos, More Secrets, Rinny08, Lady Rhian, Princess Fiona, and Duj. Your comments and encouragement are deeply appreciated. This site prefers authors not reply to reviews in the chapters, but I do reply by e-mail to everyone who is logged in when they give their review. I can't always find an e-mail for those who review anonymously.

For those who have been asking, the interaction between Hermione and Severus will actually increase once she goes off to college.


	20. Chapter 20

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Amrun for going on punctuation patrol and all of her wording suggestions. This is a better story for her input.

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Hermione, July 12, 1998

Arthur and Molly were sitting in the kitchen enjoying a last cup of tea before going to bed. The nest was empty at the moment, since Ron and Ginny hadn't come home yet. Harry was treating the both of them to a Weird Sisters concert in Dublin so they wouldn't be home until very late.

There were advantages to being young and unemployed. The children -- and Molly couldn't think of them any other way -- didn't have to be up first thing in the morning, unlike Arthur who needed to be in bed. Molly looked over at the magical grandfather clock to check the location of her brood. Bill was at Hogwarts, Charlie was in Romania, George and Fred were in Diagon Alley at their shop, and the clock hands for Ron, Ginny, and Harry showed they were having fun. The newest hand, Hermione, showed she was at school.

As for Percy, his hand never moved anymore to show where he was, what he was doing, or if he was safe. He had cut the magical connection at his end.

Arthur scooted closer to Molly and began to nuzzle her neck. After all, a vigorous man with a household full of young people needed to take advantage of an empty house whenever he could. Molly, never one to miss an opportunity herself, started making little moaning noises when they heard the chiming sound the clock always made when one of the children apparated or portkeyed to the Burrow. Their heads went up simultaneously to look at the clock. Hermione's hand had moved to "home". Molly looked at Arthur with alarm. They got up and went to the kitchen door, looking out into the yard where they saw Hermione running up the path. Arthur opened the door and caught Hermione in a hug as she dashed up the stairs, her distress clearly on her face.

"Hermione, whatever is wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"You will not believe this," Hermione fumed, "You absolutely will not believe this. Draco Malfoy is at the college."

"Malfoy?" quizzed Molly, concerned. "Is he a student, too?"

"I was coming back to the dorm after visiting the library this afternoon and there he was walking down the hallway. He's living in the same dorm I'm in. We're on the same floor and his room is five doors down on the opposite side of the hallway from me. What the hell am I supposed to do?" Hermione was clearly in a panic. "I'm going to school in America at least in part to get away from the Death Eaters and now I find I'm practically living right next to one!"

"Calm down, Hermione," soothed Arthur, "We'll floo Albus and find out what to do." He released Hermione into Molly's arms and tossed the powder into the fireplace. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts," he said. The flames turned green and Arthur stuck his head into the fireplace. "Albus?" he inquired, "Its Arthur. Are you there?"

Headmaster Dumbledore's face appeared in the green flames.

"I am here, Arthur," answered Dumbledore. "Is something wrong?"

"We've got a situation with Hermione. She just portkeyed back from the college. It seems Draco Malfoy is there, too. He's living in a dorm room just a few doors down from her," said Arthur, "Needless to say, we're very concerned about her safety, Albus."

"Arthur, is Miss Granger there? May I speak to her?" requested Dumbledore.

"I'm here, Headmaster," replied Hermione.

"Miss Granger, are you all right? Did Mr. Malfoy approach you in any way?"

"I'm fine, sir. Just startled and scared. Malfoy didn't come near me. I came out of the elevator on my floor and saw him walking down the hallway. He looked at me and I know he saw me. He turned and went into a dorm room five doors down and across the hall from mine."

"Arthur, Miss Granger, are you alone?" asked Dumbledore.

Arthur answered, "Molly is here with us. Everyone else is gone for the evening."

"Good. Then there is privacy. If you will give me a moment." Dumbledore's head disappeared for a moment and then reappeared. "I have Professor Snape here and I would like to send him through to speak to the three of you, if I may?"

"Of course, Albus," answered Arthur, stepping back from the fireplace.

The green flames shot up as Professor Snape appeared in the fireplace. He stepped out, brushing soot out of his hair and off his clothes. He wore his usual layers of black robes, even on a warm summer night.

"Good evening, Molly, Arthur, Miss Granger," Severus muttered, picking at a chunk of soot stuck to his hair.

Molly gave a soft _hmph_. "Severus -- let me get that for you." Molly reached up and caught the piece between her thumb and forefinger, pulling it out along with a couple strands of hair.

"Molly," protested Severus with a grimace, "I appreciate the help, but I would like to keep my hair attached to my head if you please." Severus straightened and looked at Hermione. "You have seen Draco Malfoy, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor. He has to be a student. His room is right down the hallway from mine," she answered.

Molly interrupted. "Why don't we all sit down and I'll get some tea." She directed everyone into the parlor. When everyone was seated, she bustled about with a teapot and cups.

"Thank you, Molly," said Severus, accepting a cup. He turned to Hermione. "Draco Malfoy has been accepted into the Charms Program at Avalon College."

Hermione's eyes were wide with anger. "You knew Draco Malfoy was going to attend Avalon?" she accused, "You knew and nobody thought to warn me he would be there? I thought one of the ideas behind my going there was to be safe and now I've got Malfoy to worry about, right down the hallway from where I sleep?"

"You have us quite to rights, Miss Granger," replied Severus calmly, "The Headmaster and I both knew of Mr. Malfoy's plans and deliberately did not tell you. We needed your reaction to seeing him for the first time to be absolutely genuine."

"What are you getting at Severus?" asked Arthur, disapproving.

"Miss Granger, you are a poor actress," remarked Severus, "Whatever you are thinking or feeling tends to show up on your face. The more genuinely appalled you appeared to be upon encountering Mr. Malfoy, the safer for both of you."

"The safer _for both of us_?" quizzed Hermione, confused.

"Do you remember a conversation we had some months ago when I said I had been dealing with families on both sides of the issue?" asked Severus, "When I said parents on both sides wanted their children kept out of this conflict which was not of their making?"

Hermione looked stunned as the idea dawned on her. "Professor, are you saying the Malfoys sent Draco to Avalon College to keep him from becoming a Death Eater?"

"I must be very careful in what I say and how I say it, Miss Granger," drawled Severus, "Can you imagine a scenario where it might be to the advantage of the Order to help the Malfoys get their son out of the country to a relatively safe place, where he would be a non-combatant?"

Molly and Arthur looked at each other in surprise.

"Severus," said Arthur, shaking his head suspiciously, "I am very concerned about any plan you and Albus might have involving Lucius Malfoy. Not for one minute can Molly and I forget he placed Ginny at terrible risk when he planted Tom Riddle's journal in her books when she started at Hogwarts. How can you possibly place any trust in anything the man says, especially regarding the safety of a child?"

"You may find this difficult to believe, but Lucius Malfoy did not intend for Miss Weasley to be harmed by the journal." Arthur started to interrupt, but Severus held up his hand to stop him. "He told me he intended that the journal end up in your hands, Arthur. He believed your daughter would hand it over to you. Malfoy wanted to embarrass and ultimately cost you your job at the Ministry by planting it on you and using innuendo and suggestion to send the Aurors your way. You would have a difficult time explaining how the Dark Lord's journal came to be in your possession."

"That's a pretty poor plan," snorted Molly, "He was relying on a child to turn over a blank journal to her father after she found it in her cauldron? He really thought the Aurors would believe Arthur was dabbling in the Dark Arts?"

"It was a poorly conceived plan," admitted Severus, "Malfoy had the journal in his possession and was on his way to Gringott's to store it in his vault when he saw you and impulsively decided to go after you. The two of you had some sort of fight, did you not?"

Arthur winced. "Malfoy baited me and I lost my temper. It was idiotic on my part to let him get to me."

"Lucius Malfoy can be arrogant, impulsive, shortsighted, petty, and those are some of his finer qualities," said Severus, "But he is also a father who loves his son."

"Professor Snape?" Hermione tapped her lower lip with her index finger. "If Draco is at the college to keep him out of the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord must have approved this as a strategy for something. A strategy for what?"

"The Dark Lord considers himself immortal. What do you think his strategy might be?

Hermione was thoughtful. "Long term intelligence gathering about the United States? Making wizarding contacts? Sizing up the culture and technology?"

"Very good, Miss Granger."

"Did Draco know I was going to be there?"

"No, he did not -- nor did his parents. When Headmaster Dumbledore and I realized this might be a way to get both of you away from the Death Eaters, albeit for different reasons, we decided to encourage both of you to go to the college. The decision to tell neither of you about the other was mine."

"At some point," he continued, "Draco Malfoy will face the Dark Lord who will probe his mind. Although he has some skills as an Occlumens, the more actual memories he has that are safe for the Dark Lord to view, the safer he is."

Severus looked at Hermione intently. "I imagine Draco will be communicating with his parents about your presence. I expect to be consulted and I will advise them to encourage Draco to view your presence as an opportunity to solidify his status with the Dark Lord."

Severus paused and looked distinctly uncomfortable. This next topic was one he would have preferred not to discuss with Granger and the Weasleys.

"Please understand the Dark Lord equates your close friendship with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley with promiscuity. If neither of them comes around, he will assume the relationship you have with them has diminished along with your influence over them. Draco can claim to be monitoring your actions."

Hermione was incensed. "I'm supposed to be promiscuous? Where did that come from?"

"The Dark Lord expresses the belief that Muggleborns are morally, culturally, and magically inferior to Purebloods. Death Eaters are expected to believe that nonsense. Riddle has proposed on several occasions that your friendship with two young males must be based in a sexual relationship."

Hermione was disgusted. "Well, he's dead wrong about all of that. Just because my two best friends are guys I'm supposed to be sleeping with both of them?" She threw up her hands. "Why am I even concerning myself about having the good opinion of the Dark Lord? This is ridiculous." She looked at Arthur and Molly. "Surely other people don't think that way, do they?"

Arthur patted Hermione's hand. "Of course they don't. Anyone who knows you would never believe such a thing."

"Does that mean that mean people who don't know me well would believe it?" Hermione shook her head in aggravation. "Never mind, it might irritate me to no end but it's irrelevant."

"Miss Granger, you and Draco Malfoy have something in common right now. You are both strangers in a strange land," suggested Severus.

"You've read Heinlein, Professor?" Hermione was intrigued.

"A part of my misspent youth. Do you understand my point?"

"We're both living in a foreign country. Malfoy is at more of a disadvantage than I am. From what I've seen, there's much more Muggle influence at the college than there was at Hogwarts. At least I've got a clue about technology. He won't."

"Precisely, Miss Granger. Again, can you imagine a scenario where enlisting Draco Malfoy as an ally rather than an enemy would be to the Order's advantage?" asked Severus.

"If he's already trying to avoid becoming a Death Eater, there might be some way he could help us, perhaps in a way we can't foresee."

"Is there something you could do to help that happen?"

"Help him adjust to the college. He's proud and accustomed to being successful at what he does. He'll be a fish out of water, so if I help him he'll owe me."

"Severus, this is all well and good," interrupted Molly, "But Malfoy has always treated Hermione horribly. He's called her terrible names and treated her like dirt. Why should she do anything for him when there's no reason to expect he'll treat her any differently?"

"There are reasons Draco Malfoy might respond very differently than in the past," responded Severus. "Can you tell me what those might be, Miss Granger?"

"Malfoy doesn't know anyone at the college. When he started at Hogwarts, he arrived with Crabbe and Goyle as pre-packaged friends." Hermione looked horrified. "Professor, please don't tell me any of his minions have come along with him?"

"No, Miss Granger. I assure you there is no one else from Hogwarts or any of Draco's acquaintances from other schools attending Avalon College."

Hermione looked relieved. "If I am at all friendly towards him, it will give him at least one person he knows. I could help him with technology and some of the cultural issues. As for the Dark Lord, Draco could claim he was only being friendly to get information out of me about Harry."

"I believe you have it, Miss Granger. Draco could benefit from a friendly face right now, more so than ever before in his life. All of the supports he has had to build his confidence and his arrogance are gone. You could make inroads no one has had a chance to make to before." Severus added extra sincerity to his voice.

Hermione looked at Professor Snape suspiciously. "You don't expect me to date him, do you?"

Severus gave her a miniscule smirk and shook his head. "Miss Granger, I believe I have upset you by telling you the Dark Lord's opinion of Muggleborns."

"No -- it was telling me that other people might believe that kind of nonsense."

Severus looked at Hermione, his eyes unreadable. "Miss Granger, I most definitely do not want you to date Draco Malfoy. It would increase the danger to you both." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Why would I say that?"

"Because Draco is still a Pureblood and needs to be thought of as an aspiring Death Eater. To date a Muggleborn would be dangerous. Besides, if he is supposed to be gathering information about American wizarding culture, he could best do that by dating American witches. It would be especially dangerous to both of us because I'd certainly kill him at some point and wind up in Azkaban.

Severus snorted. "Very good, Miss Granger. I believe you have a solid grasp of the situation. May I rely on your good judgment in this matter?"

Hermione examined Professor Snape's face for a moment. She wished she could read this man. Severus Snape was a spy, Death Eater, member of the Order, and the teacher who had been kind to her when she was wracked with grief on Astronomy Tower. She knew full well he was manipulating her into seeing the situation his way by taking her through his series of questions. It was a very Slytherin tactic. At the end, it simply came down to a feeling, an intuition that she could trust him, regardless of his obvious attempt at manipulation.

"I will help Draco, sir. But, one 'mudblood' out of him and that's it."

"Most reasonable, Miss Granger. If he calls you names, you have my permission to hex him," replied Severus with a perfectly straight face. Mentally, he was congratulating himself on his deft handling of the situation. The little Gryffindor had been guided one step at a time into doing exactly what Severus needed her to do. And she never even realized what he was doing.

"I can't tell him you said that, can I?"

"No. You most certainly may not." Severus turned to the Weasleys, "Molly, Arthur, are the two of you satisfied with what I have said?"

Arthur shook his head reluctantly. "Severus, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I find it very hard to rely on a Malfoy for any kind of good will towards Hermione. If, at any point, she feels threatened by him we will need to revisit this discussion. Molly and I won't have her threatened, mistreated, or harmed by him or his kin."

"I agree. Miss Granger, will you make certain I stay informed about anything significant you encounter with Draco Malfoy?"

"I will, Professor Snape. Thank you for coming tonight and explaining what is going on." She looked at him wryly. "You don't have any more surprises up your sleeve, do you?"

Severus was tempted to reply "Only my wand, Miss Granger," but realized it might be interpreted as a risqué joke -- something that Professor Snape could never utter to a young woman only two weeks past being one of his students. Instead he answered; "No other surprises tonight, Miss Granger. One never knows what a new day might bring."

Severus looked at Molly and Arthur, "In that case, I will take my leave. Tomorrow is a work day for us and your first day of class, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded. "I'd better get back to Chicago. It's 5:30 there and I'm going with some of the other students for pizza."

Severus stood, black robes rustling about him. "If I may avail myself of your floo, I will bid you all good evening."

Arthur stood. "We will see you at the next Order meeting, Severus."

Professor Snape disappeared into the green flames.

Hermione gathered the empty teacups and put them on the tray to take back to the kitchen.

"Hermione, do you feel safe about this?" asked Molly.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I feel reassured that Malfoy probably isn't a threat. I can't believe Professor Snape would try to mislead me about that. It doesn't change the fact that Malfoy is a real prat with a superiority complex," she sighed, "I will make an effort with him, but if he behaves like he did at Hogwarts I won't try again. He'll be taking the computer class for the next six weeks. That will be more than long enough to test Professor Snape's theory."

Arthur joined the women in the kitchen.

"Do you want us to tell Harry and Ron about this?" he asked.

Hermione looked up and speculated, "I don't know that it's a good idea to tell them right now. They're liable to overreact when we don't know for certain how Draco will behave. Give me a few days and I'll decide."

"We'll leave it between us for now," said Arthur.

Hermione dried her hands on a dishtowel and gave Molly a hug.

"Thank you for helping me sort through this mess. Quite honestly, when I saw Malfoy walking down the hallway it scared me half to death. I was afraid I'd have to withdraw from the college and I could just see all my plans going right down the drain."

Molly gave Hermione another squeeze. "Well thank goodness it doesn't have to be that way."

"I'd better get going," said Hermione as she gave Arthur a hug and headed for the door. The Weasleys watched as Hermione took out her triple moon necklace and disappeared.

-----------------------

An instant later, Hermione appeared in the small transportation room on the first floor of the dormitory. She leaned against the wall for a moment to let her stomach settle and then headed for the elevator. She got off at the sixth floor and walked towards her room. Entrance required both the use of a Muggle key along with a magical password.

"Honeydukes's finest," she whispered and the door opened.

Crookshanks was sitting on the window seat Hermione brought for him. He was staring out at the street and she could tell he missed the freedom to wander outdoors he had had at Hogwarts and the Burrow. Tomorrow, wards would be set up so familiars could safely wander the hallway and the floor's common room. Each was to wear a charmed collar to prevent it from leaving the floor. Yesterday, half a dozen other students moved in with cat carriers, so Crooks wouldn't be lonely for long. She hoped there wouldn't be too many territorial disputes. The dormitory couldn't begin to compare with Hogwarts for size.

Of the twenty-four dorm rooms on the sixth floor of St. Germain Hall, students who moved in over the last two days already occupied twenty. Students from foreign countries were given the option of moving in on Saturday so they could adjust to the time difference before starting class on Monday. As a foreign student enrolled in a program for the fall with tuition and room and board already paid, Hermione could move in and keep the same room for the regular term.

Harry and Ron came with on Saturday to help her move. Everything she needed for the school year was shrunk and put in a couple of suitcases. It was nice to have their help and company. Hermione was all too aware that once they left, she'd be completely on her own. She wouldn't see them again for four weeks, planning for a home visit in August.

The Avalon College student handbook, which Hermione had read cover-to-cover twice, said each dorm room came equipped with standard issue furniture: a single bed with mattress, dresser, desk, desk chair, spare chair, and bookcase. Students were allowed to transfigure them into whatever form they preferred as long as they returned them to their original and undamaged shape when they moved out.

Harry and Ron were more than delighted to help Hermione reconfigure her furnishings. The standard metal bed became a day bed, occupying one wall. The dresser and desk were fine, but institutional looking. Within minutes, they looked like cherry wood antiques. The desk chair was redesigned to match the desk and a comfortable cushion added. The extra chair was now overstuffed and comfortable. The bookcase grew to the ceiling, changing from four shelves to eight and doubling in width.

Hermione purchased new bedding in shades of blue (no more Gryffindor gold and red, thank you very much), and the linoleum floor now sported a lovely dark blue area rug. Harry helped unpack her books. Only the most important references were resized to normal. The others were left in their reduced size in decorative boxes with an inventory of their contents displayed on the outside. Even so, Hermione filled five of the shelves. She imagined by the end of the school year, the other three shelves would be filled.

Once the work was done, Crookshanks was turned lose in the room and his cat carrier shrunk and stowed. Hermione set out the new litter box with a tall cover to keep the kitty litter in the box. Crookshanks inspected it, stuck up his nose, and settled on the day bed. Ron said he hoped there wasn't about to be a disagreement about where one's cat business was to be done.

Moving in accomplished, the trio decided to take a walk around the campus. Avalon's campus consisted of several converted office buildings in downtown Chicago, not too far from DePaul University. As such, there wasn't a campus that could be distinguished from the surrounding area. It fit in with Avalon College's "hide in plain sight" philosophy. The Muggle students attending DePaul and the wizarding students attending Avalon were indistinguishable as they mingled on the streets.

There were a multitude of shops and restaurants in the area, along with bars, coffee houses, movie theaters, comedy clubs and other forms of entertainment. The streets were crowded with traffic and pedestrians. Harry and Hermione had to give Ron quick training on the use of traffic lights in crossing streets. After spending seven years at Hogwarts completely isolated from the Muggle world, it was overwhelming to be around so many people. The buildings were enormous and packed close together. There was a park nearby, but in other areas there were only small patches of grass and trees. Harry called it the anti-Hogwarts, especially since there was no Quidditch pitch in sight.

By the time they found the library and the building where Hermione's computer class would be held, it was suppertime for Ron and Harry and lunchtime for Hermione. The six-hour time difference between England and Chicago already affected them. Hermione planned to stay up until 8 PM local time, which would be 2 AM in England. She hoped by Monday she would be sufficiently adjusted to the time difference to cope. Hermione offered to treat for lunch as a thank you. Besides, she was the only one with any American money.

The three decided to indulge in the classic American experience and went to a McDonald's Restaurant to eat. Ron flirted with the pretty girl behind the counter who advised the three Brits to try the Quarter Pounder with cheese, french fries, and Pepsi. There was considerable discussion about who decided chips were a French invention. Ron ended up eating his Quarter Pounder, finished Hermione's french fries, and went back for a Big Mac. At Ron's invitation, Hermione tried a bite and decided she liked it better than the Quarter Pounder. Hermione felt it necessary to explain that one hundred years ago, Pepsi and Coca Cola had cocaine as one of the original ingredients in their soft drinks. They agreed it was an interesting way of getting repeat business. Harry topped off his meal with an ice cream cone.

Feeling quite Americanized, they walked back to the dorm. By this time, the hallway was crowded with students and parents carting and levitating possessions. They returned to Hermione's room, where investigation showed Crookshanks had used the new litter box for its intended purpose, which was a great relief to Hermione. The three of them sat and talked about their plans for the year. Harry and Ron were to report to the Auror Academy in a week.

They would, as Harry put it, be working slave labor hours and couldn't count on weekends being free. Hermione planned to visit home in four weeks and they were determined to find some time together, even if it was at the Order's Headquarters so they could talk about their experiences. It was going to take a lot more effort for to make time to spend time together.

Eventually, it was time for Ron and Harry to leave. Hermione walked them down to the transportation room on the first floor of the dormitory. Long hugs and "good lucks" were exchanged. Hermione sniffled a little. Harry pulled out a charmed key chain with the Hogwarts crest and the two men portkeyed for home.

Hermione was alone, except for Crookshanks. She headed back to her room where she planned to camp out for most of the rest of the day. She had a copy of _The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Digital Magic Operating System_, which she intended to read.

Hermione finished putting her clothes into the closet and dresser, set up her desk, put out towels and toiletries in the bath she shared with the person rooming next door and settled in with her book. She was fighting to stay awake. Crookshanks saw no point to it and settled in to sleep. It was almost 6:00 when she heard noise from the room on the other side of the bathroom. Hermione was burning with curiosity, but waited to meet the person moving in next door. The noise quieted about half an hour later, so Hermione decided to knock on the bathroom door leading to the adjoining room. A pretty brunette answered.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger from the room next door," said Hermione, "Looks like we'll be sharing a bath."

"Hello, Hermione. I'm Anita Schuler," she said with an American accent. The girl opened the door wider and stepped back. "Why don't you c'mon in? I've almost got my room done."

Hermione walked in and looked around. Anita transfigured her room's furnishings into an ultra modern style with lots of chrome and steel done in black and white. Prominently displayed on the desk was what looked like a brand new computer.

"You're English aren't you? I just love your accent," said Anita.

"Yes, I'm originally from London, but I went to school in Scotland," said Hermione.

"That sounds so interesting. I'm just a standard issue American witch." Anita pulled out the desk chair, a marvel in leather and chrome, and offered it to Hermione who sat down. Anita sat on the bed. "I attended St. Brigit's Academy in Oak Park. That's one of the suburbs to the west of here. Where did you go?"

"I went to Hogwarts. It's a boarding school used by most of the wizards in the British Isles, though some do go to smaller day schools in England. There's a few English students attending Beauxbatons in France or Durmstrang which is somewhere in northern Europe. They keep the location a secret," confided Hermione. "I dated a student who attended there and he wouldn't tell me where it was, though owls get there just fine."

"I've heard about Hogwarts. You have your dormitories split up based on the personalities of the students." Anita rested her chin on the palm of her hand. "How exactly does that work?"

"It's done by a magical hat once owned by one of the founders of the school. The first thing you do when you arrive at Hogwarts is getting sorted. You sit and the Deputy Headmistress puts the hat on your head and it quizzes your brain. It announces which House you'll go in. Each of the four Houses has a reputed specialty; Hufflepuff for loyalty, Ravenclaw for scholars, Gryffindor for courage, and Slytherin for ambition," explained Hermione.

"That's really amazing. Which House did you get placed in?"

"Gryffindor, but the hat really considered putting me in Ravenclaw."

"So you're gutsy with brains?" laughed Anita.

Hermione joined in the laughter. "Well, I suppose it's probably true. One of my friends describes me as 'brilliant, but scary'."

"I'm majoring in Charms," said Anita, "How about you?"

"In England, we'd call that reading Charms." Hermione pulled up one leg and wrapped her arms around it. "I guess I'd best learn the local language. I'm majoring in Potions."

"Two year or six year?"

"Six. I want to do research."

"Good for you," said Anita, "They're talking about expanding Charms to offer a six year program. If they do, I'll take the two additional years. My big brother, Adam, is here too. He's in the Arithmancy Program, Third year.

"How does he like it?"

"He loves it. He's really got the knack, just like our Dad. He's going to join the family business when he graduates."

"What's the family business?"

"Computers and software."

Hermione nodded to the computer sitting on Anita's desk. "So that's why you've got a nice shiny new one here?"

"Yeah. Mom and Dad insisted I had to have a new one for school. It's really a good one and I'll be able to do all kinds of things with it." Anita crossed her legs and pulled up a couple of pillows behind her back. "Did you bring one with you for computer camp?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "I don't know enough about them to know what to buy. I figured I would learn more about them first."

"I can help you with that. I'm here because I've been hired as an aide for computer camp. In my family, you get computers along with mother's milk. I did some fast-talking with Dad to get him to let me stay here in the dorm. I promised I'd help you newbies with computer shopping and homework back here in the evenings. It's easier to talk Dad into things if you put it in business terms. He's always in favor of giving the customer 'added value.'"

"It's great that the college offers a six-week program to help those of us who haven't had a chance to use computers get caught up with the other students who have. Hogwarts has such a strong magical environment that nothing electronic will work there. The school is better than a thousand years old. There are such strong traditions, like using a quill and parchment for written work; it's difficult to get the teachers to even think about doing something different. I can't tell you how many times I wished I could use a ballpoint pen instead of having to dip a quill in an inkpot every few words and getting ink all over my fingers."

Anita looked fascinated. "The United States is such a new country by comparison. I can't imagine how neat it must be to have gone to a school that old with such tradition and history. St. Brigit's is only about 75 years old and it's one of the oldest wizarding schools in the country. Before that, everybody got home schooled or attended little parent-run schools for wizarding skills. Rich families used to send their kids to European boarding schools like Hogwarts."

"I was overwhelmed when I first got to Hogwarts. My parents were both Muggles and I'm the first witch in the family as far as they knew," offered Hermione. "The sheer amount of magic surrounding everything is amazing. Things the wizarding world takes for granted, like moving stair cases and the castle being able to redesign itself, portraits everywhere with their occupants moving around and talking, and the Great Hall with the magical ceiling that looks like there's open sky above your head, its like something out of a fairy tale. On top of it, the teachers dress like they stepped out of a Charles Dickens' novel, except Headmaster Dumbledore who looks like a cross between Merlin and Santa Claus."

Anita gave a delighted laugh, "I've seen pictures of him. I take it his chocolate frog card doesn't do him justice?"

"Not at all. He comes across like he's all grandfatherly and cheerful, but he's really powerful and brilliant. He is always offering these lemon sweets to anyone he meets. It's very deceptive and makes it hard to believe he's the wizard who defeated Grindelwald," confided Hermione.

Anita took a look at the clock. "Are you getting hungry?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Two of my friends helped me move in and we went to McDonald's for lunch, but that's been a while."

"Do you like Mexican food?" asked Anita, "There's a place right down the block that makes the best tacos and chimichangas."

"I like tacos, but I've never had a chimichanga," admitted Hermione.

"How about we go get something to eat? I'll tell you my life story and you can tell me yours."

So far, Hermione liked this genuinely friendly American. "I'd like that. Let me go back to my room and get my purse and we can go."

Anita got up and grabbed a tiny purse off her desk. "I'll come with and you can show me what you've done to your room. Wasn't the furniture appalling?"

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Yesterday evening, Hermione had made her first American friend and got indigestion from her first experience with refried beans. All was well until today when she saw Draco and went into a complete panic. Hermione was grateful to Minerva and the Headmaster for gifting her with the two-way portkey that allowed her to get home quickly to Arthur and Molly. As manipulative as Professor Snape was in getting Hermione to agree to help Draco Malfoy, she could see potential for benefit to the Order. She could also see where trying to be nice to Malfoy could come back to bite her.

It was almost 6:00. At 6:15, Hermione was supposed to meet Anita and two other students to go to a restaurant for pizza. Hermione decided to tackle the problem head-on. Checking to make sure her wand was in the special pocket she transfigured into all her jeans, Hermione squared her shoulders and walked down the hall. She knocked on Malfoy's door. Hermione had the pleasure of seeing the surprised and dismayed look on his face when he answered it.

"Hello, Malfoy."

"Hello, Granger."

"I didn't know you were planning to come to Avalon."

"I didn't know you were planning to come to Avalon, either."

There was dead silence. Hermione squared her shoulders again.

"They don't do Houses here, so there's no Gryffindor or Slytherin to contend with. Just a lot of college students and we're all on our own," Hermione looked at Draco with a question in her eyes. "We're back to being First Years and there's no sorting hat. We can go through the next couple of years ignoring or avoiding each other or we can start over."

Draco leaned casually against the doorway and crossed his arms. "What do you mean by starting over?"

"No name calling, no baiting each other, no nasty remarks from either of us. We try to get along," offered Hermione, "I don't see Crabbe, Goyle, or Parkinson hanging around you. You won't see Potter or Weasley hanging around me. That could make it a whole lot easier."

"We're the only two from Hogwarts here," shrugged Malfoy. "At least it is you and not Potter or Weasley," he spat.

"Can you honestly see Harry Potter or Ron Weasley signing on for at least four more years of school?"

"No more than I can see Crabbe, Goyle, or Parkinson doing four more years."

After a moment's indecision, Malfoy straightened up and held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy from England."

Hermione looked down at the proffered hand. "No tricks or practical jokes?"

"I wouldn't think of it, Granger."

"My name's Hermione." Hermione took his hand shook it.

"I'm Draco."

Both of them kept their expressions carefully neutral.

"A few of us are going out for pizza. Would you like to join us?"

"What's pizza?"

"Its bread dough rolled flat into a crust topped with a tomato sauce with Italian spices and mozzarella cheese. You can get different things on top of that, like crumbled meat, sliced onions, green peppers, or mushrooms. It's really good. One of the students who's going is an American and she says this place called Lou Malnati's has the best pizza in Chicago."

"Muggle food?" queried Malfoy.

"Muggles invented it. I think there are plenty of American wizards who eat it. I've had it lots of times in London. Good food is good food."

"Sounds like an adventure. Let me get my wallet and lock up here." Draco ducked back into his room and returned in a minute.

"We're meeting up by the elevator." Hermione nodded her head in the direction of the elevator. The two started walking down the hallway. Hermione spotted Anita with two other students waiting by the elevator.

"Hi, guys," said Hermione, "I'd like you to meet Draco Malfoy. He and I went to Hogwarts." Hermione made the rounds of introductions. Draco responded with the usual Malfoy charm, which had Anita gushing over his accent and cultured tones.

The evening went surprisingly well. The pizza really was as excellent as Anita said it would be. Draco was polite, if a little aloof. The other two students were from Chile and majoring in Arithmancy. They were friendly, but spoke little English and relied on translation charms. Fortunately, Anita spoke enough for everyone and no one made an arse of themselves. The group went back to the dorm early so everyone could make a fresh start in the morning.

For a first evening around Draco Malfoy, it had to be called a success.

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Thanks to my reviewers who I will answer tonight: Siren 34, Lady Rhian, Rinny 08, Duj (for the funniest and most creative review), Princess Fiona, Evil Mastermind 666 (for spotting the important typo none of the rest of us caught), Edania, Severus Fan, Shishkeberry, Amrun, and Phoenix Flight.


	21. Chapter 21

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thanks as always to Amrun for her Beta work! Welcome to Julia F. who has come on board as Britpicker.

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Hermione, July 31, 1998

"So how many words per minute are you up to?" asked Draco.

"I'm doing twenty-two words per minute with four errors," answered Hermione, "But I'm not peeking at the keyboard like some people I know."

"I only peek at punctuation," grumbled Draco, "I'm never going to get punctuation."

"I've been restraining myself from peeking at punctuation. It's tempting. I'll never understand why they put the exclamation mark over the one and the question mark on the bottom row over the slash. I keep getting them confused," Hermione sighed, "It's a good thing Mavis Beacon is a fictitious character. Otherwise I think I'd find her and give her a good hexing."

"Anulus Spasmus would be a good place to start. See how well she keyboards when her fingers are twisting all over the place," he retorted.

It was early morning and Draco and Hermione were in the computer lab practicing keyboarding skills on a program called 'Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing'. The daily schedules called for one hour of keyboarding instruction and practice every morning and every afternoon. So far, Hermione found computer camp fascinating and fun, but keyboard practice was the drudgery part of it. She comforted herself that Draco was having a more difficult time with it than she was. After the first week, her hands ached from the constant unaccustomed exercise. Draco held his hands up and swore the workout he was getting was going to build up the muscles in his hand until they were the size of Goyle's.

The aching hands part was gone, but she still had a long way to go before she'd be as fast writing on a computer as she was with a pen. One good thing about being at Avalon was no one expected work to be written with a quill and bottle of ink. If anything had to be handwritten, an ink pen was the writing implement of choice.

Draco surprised her. In spite of his Slytherin training in hiding his feelings behind a supercilious expression, she could see he was having an internal struggle. In all his eighteen years, Draco was taught to despise all things Muggle. But here he was, surrounded by Muggle-developed technology and forced to face the fact that aspects of it were superior to magic.

The quill and inkpot disappeared the first day after Anita handed him a ballpoint pen. He was surrounded by students from a dozen different countries, almost none of whom could be called a Pureblood and yet they were capable wizards and witches. His angelic good looks got him some interesting responses from some of their female classmates and one of the guys, but no one treated him with any of the deference he received at Hogwarts by virtue of being a Malfoy.

The culture shock had to be overwhelming at times. Hermione had gone out of her way to include Draco in the little circle of friends she was developing. He seemed most comfortable around Anita and herself. Hermione wondered how much of Draco's name-calling and the snide remarks directed at her over the years had been putting on a show for the benefit of his Death Eater wannabe friends. On the other hand, he might have been completely sincere in despising her as a mudblood, but now he needed acceptance and help from her to make it here. Maybe he was just being an opportunist.

They trod very carefully around each other. Hermione never mentioned Draco's family and he never mentioned hers. They could discuss funny incidents that happened at Hogwarts, but made sure they didn't bring up any of the more serious ones. No political discussions or any controversial subjects were broached. They discussed their work on the computers and their studies, the safest topic because it was in the here and now. When Anita was around, their discussions often revolved around charms and comparisons of how spells were done in America and Britain.

Anita spent a lot of her time with the two of them. The three usually took meals together, joined by a rotating assortment of students from their floor. Food was another safe topic. One thing they could agree on was Avalon's food service cooks could take lessons from Hogwarts' elves.

Anita tended to dominate the conversation during social times. There was plenty to talk about just getting used to being in the States, as they'd come to call it. There were differences in language and customs, which all found amusing. Draco was annoyed the first time he ordered chips and found himself with a bag of potato crisps instead of french fries. When there were awkward silences, they tended to be filled with Anita's voice.

The first weekend, Anita took several of the students to shop for computers. It was Draco's first time travelling in a car. Afterwards, he announced it looked like fun and he wanted a car and driving lessons. It wouldn't be as much fun as a broom, but since brooms were banned for on-campus and nearby, driving a car would be more practical. Anita promised to connect him up with a school that could teach him.

The visit to the Best Buy electronics store was productive. Anita took Hermione and Draco directly to the Digital Magic section of the computer aisles. They looked at different models. With Anita's encouragement both ended up with nineteen inch monitors, top of the line hard drives and memories, CD-Rom, Internet capability, color printers, scanners, surge protectors, and something she called a zip drive backup. They weren't sure exactly what all of these things did, but Anita assured them this was a wickedly fast and powerful system that could be easily upgraded.

Their visit expanded beyond the computer section and both of them bought small televisions with a built-in video tape recorder. Draco was ready to continue his electronics shopping, but Anita announced that was all they could fit into the car. Hermione was shocked when she realized the total cost of what she had bought, but Draco took it all in stride. They both laughed when they pulled out their Gringott's Visa cards.

Within a couple of hours, the computers were set up as they learned to connect cables based on matching the colors on the back of the central processing unit. Anita helped them hook up their Internet access and got them both American Wizards On-Line (AWL) accounts. Use of the scanner would have to wait for another lesson, as Anita had to take two more students shopping. The rest of the day was spent quite happily as Hermione explored Internet access to Avalon's library, especially the journals. Draco, back in his own room also explored the Internet, but Hermione got the impression he'd found other kinds of interesting things to view.

The television was another new experience for Draco. He was disappointed the characters he saw on screen wouldn't converse when he talked to them. He found the commercials to be crass, for the most part. He was offended when he saw advertisements for constipation or diarrhea remedies. He sputtered and almost turned blue the first time he saw a commercial for Preparation H hemorrhoid cream. Draco found he could appreciate the wit that went into the beer commercials. After watching one inning of a baseball game, Draco decided that Muggles must be deadly dull beings. Anita assured him he just needed to wait until football and basketball started and he'd think differently.

Hermione could understand how people might get addicted to computers. They barely scratched the surface in computer camp. In two and a half weeks, they learned to use a mouse, gained some keyboard skills, acquired basic Internet skills, and learned some word processing and a little bit of the database program. With a little extra coaching from Anita, Hermione began to access the Avalon library and some of the special programs available there.

She looked forward to using word processing for essays. She thought about all the time she could have saved revising an essay on a screen rather than having to recopy it to another parchment. She was a good speller but always had a hard time with proofreading her own work. It was nice to have the computer take over that task.

The second weekend was spent with Anita further Americanizing the two Brits. She announced a visit to Old Navy was called for. Draco didn't own a single pair of jeans, let alone a t-shirt and Anita declared she was tired of seeing him dress all the time like he was going to church. Hermione kept her opinion to herself, but was reasonably certain Draco wasn't a regular churchgoer. Draco was game for it, so he allowed the two women to take him shopping.

In short order, Draco looked like an upscale American college student. Hermione had to admit -- he cut a nice figure in blue jeans. She noticed Anita giving admiring looks to his rear end. The t-shirts Draco modeled showed he did not carry the Dark Mark, which Hermione found reassuring despite what Professor Snape had said.

Anita talked Draco into buying a leather jacket. This was considered low class in Pureblood circles, but Anita said it was the height of fashion coolness in the United States. An expensive pair of trainers -- or tennis shoes as Anita called them -- and Draco was set. Anita tried to talk him into a haircut, but Draco would have none of it.

Hermione, having a fairly extensive Muggle wardrobe didn't need much. She selected a soft gold sweater (Anita explained that in America, a jumper was a type of dress), brown trousers, and matching loafers. She picked out a denim jacket to go with jeans she already had. After inspecting an assortment of backpacks, Hermione decided to wait and buy one on campus. They had some there that were charmed to be bottomless, allowing the wearer to carry as many books as they needed without the weight or bulk. Anita, her own chestnut hair cut in wavy layers, encouraged Hermione to get her hair cut short so the curl would show better. Hermione flatly refused.

During the week, the three continued to explore American and local ethnic cuisines. They went to a neighborhood delicatessen, which had wonderful Italian beef sandwiches. Hermione really liked the Reuben with sauerkraut, corned beef, Swiss cheese, and Thousand Island Dressing. Draco hated it. The Monte Cristo, made with ham and cheese on bread dipped in beaten eggs and grilled was excellent.

Their second visit to Lou Malnati's restaurant for deep-dish pizza was a hit and they promised themselves that they would return often. Draco had never had tacos or burritos before and discovered he liked hot sauces. He was offended the legal drinking age in the States was twenty-one and he couldn't try a cold beer to go with it. Hermione still couldn't tolerate refried beans. Next on their list after their return from home visit weekend was a trip to Greek Town.

The mediocre food served in the cafeteria was annoying and a blessing. If it had been as good as Hogwarts food, combined with their excursions into American high calorie dining, their new clothes would not have fitted them for long. Word had it, the teacher's dining room had a much better menu and the assigned service elves were much better cooks.

Hermione enjoyed watching Anita and Draco. Draco didn't appeal to Hermione, at least not in that way. But he clearly held interest for Anita and it looked like the interest was mutual. Draco behaved very differently towards Anita than he did to Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was a sure thing where Draco was concerned. All Draco had to do was crook his little finger and Pansy was right there, totally compliant with whatever Draco wanted. Anita was a complete opposite. She was confident and had a strong sense of her own identity. No man was ever going to boss her around or take her for granted. Anita knew she was a woman with choices. Hermione wished she had half of Anita's confidence, especially around men.

Not that there had been much time for Hermione to start looking for The Right Wizard. Half of the students in computer camp were male, but no one caught her fancy. There was no need to be concerned. The campus wouldn't fill up with the regular contingent of students until autumn. Hermione was quite willing to wait, especially after the box in the plain brown wrapper arrived.

A few days after arriving on campus, Hermione perused some of the magazines available in the library. One of them had the most interesting advertisement and made reference to an Internet address. Since Hermione just happened to have a brand new computer, an AWL account, and a credit card, she had the ability to experience on-line shopping.

Visiting the web address listed in the ad, Hermione was astonished by the assortment of products available. There were different sizes, colors, shapes, and features. She didn't think she needed glow-in-the-dark and electric blue just didn't do it for her. Some were extremely large; she couldn't even begin to imagine how any woman could accommodate one.

Hermione selected a rather basic vibrator with different speeds, something suitable for a beginner. Having paid for rush delivery, Hermione was delighted when the box arrived the following week. Hermione had a difficult time waiting for dinner to be over. She made her excuses to Anita and Draco, claiming a headache and retired to her room.

In preparation, Hermione locked and warded the doors and added a noise dampening charm. She opened the box and took out her graduation present. It was flesh colored, good-sized but not grotesque, and had three speeds: pleasant, exciting, and ohmygod. Hermione examined it closely. It was made of a rubbery material, firm but with a little bit of flexibility at the tip. It wouldn't do to have it pinch, though she didn't intend to use it internally. Opening a trap door at the base, Hermione inserted the batteries she bought in anticipation of its arrival. In the name of hygiene, she cleaned it and then tested the three speeds against her hand. It created some very interesting sensations.

Just the thought of what she was about to do built the beginnings of arousal. Her skin felt sensitized and she had a feeling of heaviness pool below her belly. She slipped out of her clothes and climbed naked between the sheets of her bed. Turning on the vibrator to 'pleasant', she began by sliding it down her arm.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on the thought of the strong slender hands and long fingers of her fantasy man. She imagined them moving down her arms and then up to her neck and across her face. She moved the vibrator along with the imagined hands, excitement building as she tantalized herself. The vibrator moved down her neck to her shoulder and then to her breast, teasing the nipple. She felt it harden and grow taut at the stimulation. Hermione relished the sensations as she increased the speed on the vibrator to 'exciting', stroking her breasts and then moving down her belly. In her mind, she could see those hands moving down her body, caressing and enticing her to higher levels of pleasure.

Hermione moved the vibrator down to her hips, opening her legs in anticipation. She could feel the urgency growing as she stroked it across her pubic mound; in her mind it was her unknown lover's hand exploring her. She held back, savoring the sensations pooling between her legs. She opened her legs wide and raised her knees, imagining being exposed this way to the eyes of her lover. She moved the vibrator across the skin of her inner thighs, teasing herself. As the fantasy continued, she could see his finger as it moved to her labia stroking and exploring.

Her hips began to move in a rhythm they seemed to recognize of their own accord. She was wet and the incredible sense of urgency was on her. While the vibrator moved, it was her lover's hand that slid across her folds to that tiny button where every nerve ending of her body seemed to be concentrated. The tip of the vibrator was wet with her juices from her exploration and touched her clitoris. She felt an overwhelming need to arch her back and flex her hips up to enhance the contact and in an instant it was as if a wave of irresistible and overwhelming pleasure washed from that button of flesh throughout her body.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was panting and thirsty from breathing through her mouth. Her body felt limp and loose, wonderfully relaxed. Being naked felt very very good.

Oh my. And this is just set for 'exciting'. What would 'ohmygod' do?

Hermione had the chance to find out over the next few days. Her exploration of her own body kept her fascinated and entertained. She discovered she could delay her own gratification by reducing the speed and raising it back up, extending the fantasy out even longer. She restricted herself to using it externally, until one evening she decided she wanted to feel inside herself to see if it would enhance the pleasure. She used her own finger before to do a little exploring, but had not found it particularly exciting. She wondered if it would be better with the vibrator. Leaving it set on 'pleasant', she inserted the tip inside her. She didn't get past the head when it began to feel uncomfortable, so she withdrew it and went back to using it externally. Hermione wondered if perhaps there were limits to how comfortable an artificial cock could feel to a virgin. Maybe some things should be left until the proper moment.

In all, it was the best graduation present Hermione received.

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Author's note

Anulus Spasmus: Finger spasms.

Thanks to the reviewer who pointed out that with the Dark Mark on the left wrist, one cannot use their left hand to press it. It made me realize I put Lucius' Dark Mark on his right wrist, which is not correct. Please mentally relocate all Dark Marks to the left wrist. My apologies for any discomfort caused to the characters because of my confusion.

Thank you to my reviewers: Brotherchaos, Elizabeth, Severus-Fan, Lady Rhian (Who is taking her first shot at Fanfic, too), Gemini969, Phoenix Flight (Who is also taking her first shot at Fanfic), Amrun (Beta Extraordinaire), Pineapplecookies, Rinny08, Duj (Go read her stuff), Edania, Toto, Cathraka, Ozratbag2 (Go read her stuff), Joani-the-unique-being, Ratgal2000, Siren34, Evilmastermind666, and Elizabeth.


	22. Chapter 22

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

This chapter is brought to you ahead of schedule courtesy of Amrun and Julia F. These two have critiqued, suggested, researched, and recommended to make this a much better story. Please give them a round of applause for their efforts!

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Severus, August 3, 1998

Lucius had already apparated to the cemetery by the time Severus arrived in response to the summons. Voldemort, tall and gray, sat on the edge of a tombstone and Pettigrew stood to his side.

Severus stepped forward and bowed, waiting for a word from Voldemort to make his obeisance. Voldemort looked at him with disdain and held out his hand. Severus dropped to one knee and kissed the ring. Voldemort pulled his hand back.

"Your brother Lucius tells me Draco has seen Potter's mudblood whore at Avalon College, where she is taking Potions' instruction. How did you fail to tell me this, Severus?"

Severus raised his head and looked into the red orbs that passed for eyes in the reptilian head.

"I did not know, Master."

"How could you not know? Is there a reason you are at Hogwarts, other than to lick the old man's boots? Should I view you as having a purpose and reason or are you just a waste of my time and your skin?" Voldemort thundered with rage. He reached down and seized Severus's chin, holding his head steady.

"Legilimens," he hissed.

Severus felt the invasion, harsh and cold, stronger than he had experienced in years. Voldemort was pushing. It took all his skill to keep the walls in place and not allow Voldemort to realize what he was doing. He played out memories for Voldemort to see. Holding the wand to Potter's head at the end of their duel. The string quartet playing at Draco's graduation party. Dumbledore telling him the Grangers had been killed. Minerva McGonagall telling him she didn't trust him any further than she could throw him across the room without an Expelliarmus. Telling Dumbledore that Draco intended to pursue an apprenticeship in Charms at a staff meeting where teachers discussed their student's career plans. The nude call girl on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock.

Voldemort withdrew. Severus collapsed on the ground before him.

"So you did not know, did you? Dumbledore did not trust his Potions Master with the news that Potter's slut is training in Potions?" snarled Voldemort, "Crucio."

Severus tried to curl into himself as the pain slammed into him. It felt like someone had poured liquid fire through every nerve in his body. His muscles twitched and cramped as overstimulated nerve endings fired pain messages to his brain.

Voldemort, not content, repeated in a cold and deadly voice, "Crucio."

The pain doubled and tripled. He gave Voldemort what he wanted and began screaming in agony, his voice high pitched and alien to his usual deep cultured tones. The muscles in his back spasmed and he felt as if his spine would snap from the pressure. He prayed there would not be a third round as he felt the pain diminish. His body trembled with aftershocks from the curse. More minutes passed and Severus lay on the ground, trying to slow his breathing and relax his muscles from the cramps.

He lay still on the cool grass, sweating and shaking. He opened his eyes. Voldemort sat on the edge of the tombstone, his expression unreadable. Pettigrew looked down at Snape silently amused. Lucius was carefully neutral.

"Get on your knees," ordered Voldemort.

Severus pulled himself up, falling twice before he was able to raise himself to his knees and stay there.

"You are fortunate I do not treat you like that whore you bought. You are not worthy to suck my cock, Severus," said Voldemort as he looked at him, speculatively, "Perhaps you need a reminder of your vows to me, made when you were so much younger than you are now."

Voldemort leaned forward, his red eyes glaring. "Surely you remember the act which activated your Dark Mark? The act _that bound you to me for life_?" Voldemort was laughing, a high cruel laugh. "I remember your nice white pristine arse. I remember how you tried not to scream. You were so dry, I had to push hard to get inside you. I tore you."

Voldemort's voice had taken on a lilting quality as he remembered the brutal sex and the pleasure he had found in it. "I pumped you, Severus. I pumped you and you bled. My seed and your blood running out of your arse down your leg. I could do it again. You tempt me to do it again. I am certain Peter and Lucius would be pleased to bend you over one of these stones and I could fuck you right here and now until you remember _just who your master is and why."_

Fear built within Severus. He had seen Voldemort this angry before. He had seen him rape Death Eaters in the past as a punishment for failure. His one experience with Voldemort was the night he took the Mark.

Lucius had not told him. No one told him about the final part of the ritual that bound each follower to Voldemort. The binding had to be completed by Voldemort spilling his seed inside his follower's body. It was brutal and humiliating and Voldemort liked an audience when he did it. If Voldemort chose to rape him tonight, there would be no escape. Pettigrew would enjoy watching and Lucius could not interfere. Sweat trickled down his back, hidden by his robes. He kept his head down, examining the hem of the Dark Lord's robes in apparent humility.

"Not tonight, Severus. Fortunately for you, I have an initiate arriving later to be activated. I must preserve myself for the mystical joining with a new Death Eater."

Voldemort whirled, his robes slapping Severus in the face. He sat down again on the tombstone. "Lucius, tell your foolish cousin what you have learned."

Lucius stepped forward and inclined his head to Voldemort.

"Hermione Granger, reported to be Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley's shared paramour, enrolled in Avalon College for the same class my own son is taking this summer. Draco has seen her and spoken to her. He has cultivated an air of friendship with her in order to monitor her actions and to see if Potter and Weasley visit her," said Lucius dispassionately.

"Has Draco sampled the whore?" asked Voldemort, stepping back. Severus continued to stare at the bottom of his robes. A small leaf was caught in the stitching at the hem.

"No," replied Lucius, "He has a better target within reach. Anita Schuler, daughter of Daniel Schuler, is attending the college. Her father is one of the founders of Avalon and is one of the wealthiest men in the United States and in the wizarding world. Draco is pursuing her carefully. He watches Granger, but courts Schuler. A connection with her could be invaluable. Her father may not be magically powerful, but he holds real influence and controls massive resources."

"Is there any sign of Potter or Weasley visiting their _friend_?"

"It has been reported that the two helped the mudblood move into the student residence. They spent a few hours alone with her in her room and then left," reported Lucius.

"Doubtlessly, they both took their turns with her. Draco must be certain to monitor to see when they come again to visit the slut," decried Voldemort. "Which brings us back to the question of how it is you did not know this, Severus?"

Severus tore his eyes away from the leaf, still clinging to the stitching in the hem of Voldemort's robes. He raised his head and made eye contact with the Dark Lord.

"I believe Dumbledore trusts me, but McGonagall does not. She spent a good deal of time with the chit after her parents were removed from this earth as a message to other mudblood families. McGonagall must have assisted her in applying and getting her out of the country to protect her, withholding the information from me."

Severus was swaying with pain as he continued to kneel before the Dark Lord. "Master, as I reported after my visit to the college, their standards are not as high as those for an apprenticeship. They will accept those who have the galleons to pay. It is a testimonial to my cousin's humble servitude to you as our lord that he has instructed his son to go there. No one would accept the mudblood as a Potions apprentice and certainly not without my endorsement as her teacher."

"What will you do to prevent such an error from happening again?"

"I will seek to ingratiate myself to McGonagall. She has a weakness for good firewhisky and cigars. I can use this -- encourage this. If she has enough to drink, she will tell me what I need to know. I will determine if Dumbledore did not trust me with the information about the whore or if it did not occur to him to say anything to me."

"Very good. I expect you to provide me with the reason the mudblood is at this college."

"I shall learn it, Master."

"Then take your worthless hide out of my sight. When next I summon you, I expect useful information. Cease your lazing about your dungeons and provide me with the intelligence I need to _win this war_!" screamed Voldemort.

"It is my honor to serve you, Master," said Severus, dropping down on all fours. Appearing to abjectly debase himself, he crawled forward and touched the hem of Voldemort's robes. Grasping it, he lifted the hem to his lips and kissed it. No one else noticed as Severus pulled the tiny leaf from the stitching and secreted it between two of his fingers.

"I am unworthy to kiss your ring, Master," continued Severus, "For one who has failed you my lord, it is a privilege to kiss the hem of your robes."

"Do not allow it to happen again. You have received my mercy once. You will not receive it twice," spat Voldemort.

Severus struggled to his feet, the shaking from the Crucio affecting his balance and control over his own limbs. He stumbled as he attempted to walk backwards away from Voldemort. Severus held onto a granite monument to keep himself upright. The leaf, held tightly between two fingers was slipped into the pocket of his robes. Two cracks were heard as Voldemort and Pettigrew Apparated away. His vision swam and he felt an arm around his waist, easing him back so he could sit on the gravestone.

"Severus," said Malfoy in an urgent whisper, "Hold onto me and I will Apparate us to the Manor." Severus grasped Malfoy's arm, nausea overwhelming him as they disappeared.

Severus collapsed into the grass, vomiting. Lucius stood over him, waiting. Severus rolled away from the place where he had just left the remains of his dinner and lay on his back, letting the cool breeze wash across his face. After a moment, Lucius crouched next to him.

"What you taught me worked, Severus. The Dark Lord probed me and he found nothing except what I wanted him to find." Lucius reached down and helped Severus to sit up. "I do not believe he probed me nearly as strongly as he did you. But, it did work. You saved me and you saved my family, Severus."

"Then it was worth it, Lucius," Severus groaned, "Let me sit here for a while. The cool air is helping." He lifted his head and let the air dry the sweat on his face. "Gods," he muttered, "I stink."

"The Dark Lord was harsh. He intended you to suffer. I am sorry, Severus."

Severus shook his head. "It was necessary. I knew going into this that you would have to tell him Granger was there. It gives the Dark Lord confirmation that Draco is needed right where he is in order to spy on her."

"Are you ready to stand?" asked Lucius.

"I think so."

Lucius held out a hand. Severus clasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Damn. I feel like an old man," Severus grumbled as his muscles protested. He stood for a moment to get his bearings. "You need not worry that Draco is in danger of Potter or Weasley coming around on a frequent basis. The Dark Lord likes to think the girl is spreading her legs for them and half of Gryffindor, but I have seen no sign over the years that there is any truth to it. Besides, Potter and Weasley are in Auror training and will have no time to spare for casual visits to America."

"I am relieved to hear it," murmured Lucius, "I would prefer Draco not encounter those two."

"You say Draco is courting Daniel Schuler's daughter?"

"He says she is showing an interest in him. From the tone of his voice, I believe the interest is mutual," reported Lucius, "The Granger girl has become friends with Miss Schuler. The three of them spend a good deal of time together. Oddly, Draco tells me that he and Granger have reached a sort of détente and are actually getting along, at least to the degree where they are not hexing each other in the hallways."

"All the better. It will give Draco actual memories of interacting with her if the Dark Lord decides to summon him. Draco will demonstrate that he is performing the function the Dark Lord desires and will show the girl is harmless and not worthy of further attention."

Lucius looked curiously at Severus and questioned, "Why would you be concerned one way or the other if the girl merits further interest on the part of the Dark Lord?"

Severus paused, realizing he had let information slip that he should not have at this stage.

"If the girl appears to be too important to Potter or Weasley," he said, "the Dark Lord may require Draco to deliver her over to him. This would jeopardize Draco. He would be the first person anyone would suspect of causing her harm. Potter and Weasley would seek revenge and could pose a threat. If Granger is considered harmless, she will be forgotten and Draco can fade out from the Dark Lord's attention."

"That does make sense. The further Draco is from the Dark Lord's mind, the safer he will remain." Lucius turned and looked at the manor house. "Would you like to come in and clean up before you return to Hogwarts? At least I can get you some chocolate to help with the pain."

"Thank you, but no. I am tired and would like to get some sleep."

"Would you be able to come by on Sunday and see Draco before he leaves?"

"Yes, I would like that very much." Severus put his hand on Lucius shoulder. "Thank you and please give my best wishes to Narcissa."

"It is I who need to be thanking you, Severus. You took two rounds of Crucio from the Dark Lord for the protection of my son."

Severus nodded to Lucius and Apparated out.

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After a brief report to Dumbledore, a bath, some medichocolate and a muscle relaxant potion, Severus sat before the fireplace in his rooms. He held up the small leaf he plucked from Voldemort's robes. The leaf, outlined by the light from the fire, had a heptagonal shape and was the size of a bit of clover. Severus did not recognize the plant, but from the way it made his fingers tingle, he knew it had magical properties. Clad in his oldest and most comfortable gray nightshirt and suede slippers, Severus rose and examined a shelf of books. He selected one and went over to his desk. Sitting, he opened a drawer and removed a magnifying glass and a small glass bottle. He put the leaf into the bottle and used the magnifying glass to examine it again. He opened the book and began to page through it, comparing the leaf to drawings of other leaves in the book.

Twenty minutes later, the muscle relaxant kicked in. Severus set aside the magnifying glass, closed the book, and took one last look at the leaf. He rose and went to bed.

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Author's notes

The character of Lucius Malfoy presented in this story is not consistent with canon. As has been pointed out in a point of constructive criticism, Malfoy constructed or participated in a plot to harm Harry Potter by planting Tom Riddle's journal in Ginny Weasley's cauldron in _Chamber of Secrets_.

As I stated in my author's notes in an earlier chapter, this Lucius Malfoy is not intended to be canon. He is modeled after the kinds of men who were lieutenants in American organized crime families in the 1950's and 60's. They were capable of engaging in horrible crimes, but were committed to being loving fathers and husbands. Lucius Malfoy is not a nice person in this story, as will be seen in future chapters. However, he is not as evil as portrayed in canon. I have taken the liberty of dabbling with the plot of _Chamber of Secrets_. In this story, Malfoy was attempting to get at Arthur Weasley by planting the journal in Ginny's cauldron.

It is very likely I will take other liberties that fall outside of canon in the course of the story. I hope these changes in interpretation will add to the story I am crafting and be accepted in that context.

Thank you to my reviewers and all their kind words: Jinxd n Cursed, Siren 34, Elizabeth, Severus-Fan, Lady Rhian, DD2, Phoenix Flight, and Snape Dreamer (formerly known as Edania).

Special thanks are offered to Ozratbag2 and Duj, two very experienced authors who have offered encouragement, feedback, and constructive criticism to a newbie. I appreciate the time they have taken with the story and its author.


	23. Chapter 23

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Bouquets of roses to Amrun and Julia for their beta efforts and suggestions for the story.

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Severus and Hermione

August 1, 1998

Hermione stood in the kitchen at the London townhouse. She monitored Harry as he used a charmed knife to slice the roast beef into paper-thin slices. Ron was using a charm his mother taught him to peel potatoes. Hermione added spices to a pot of beef broth and stirred. Two bowls sat beside the cooker, one filled with sliced onions and the other with sliced sweet green peppers. Long loaves of crusty French bread sat on the table.

"This had better be as good as you say it is, Mione," said Ron, "It's an awful lot of work for a roast beef sandwich."

"It is a lot of work, but it'll be worth it. They sell these Italian beef sandwiches at a delicatessen near the campus and they're delicious. I figured out which spices they use and got a recipe to follow for how they make them and decided to experiment." Hermione smiled at her friends. "If you can't experiment on your friends, who can you experiment on?"

"You're experimenting on a good percentage of the Order," said Harry skeptically, "If you poison us, you'll be doing Voldemort's job for him."

"I understand Professor Snape is going to be here tonight. If I poison you, maybe he'll come up with an antidote," Hermione laughed.

"More likely he'll just ask for a copy of the recipe," grumbled Harry.

Molly stood at the door of the kitchen, watching the three suspiciously as they mucked about in what she considered to be her kitchen. Deciding to be positive about the whole thing, she walked over to the cooker, where Hermione had started sautéing the onions and sweet peppers in olive oil.

"I think it's grand that the three of you are taking over cooking duties tonight and giving me a bit of holiday. It's nice to be waited on." Molly put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Now these two aren't giving you a hard time about doing their fair share, are they?"

"Of course not, Molly," said Hermione with a wink, "Ron and Harry are delighted to be taking on adult responsibilities within the Order."

"I'm thinking being an adult isn't all it's cracked up to be, Mum," teased Ron, "If it means being on cooking detail, I might want to go back to being a kid again."

"We've already done cleaning detail," said Harry, "The cellar is all cleared out."

"Don't complain about that, Harry," remarked Hermione, "Dobby did an awful lot of the work."

A few months ago, Dumbledore had decided to ask Dobby to consider leaving Hogwarts to be hired for house elf duties at the Order's headquarters. After the Order's experience with Kreacher at Grimmauld Place and his betrayal, Dobby was the only elf they would trust.

"I know I sound cranky, but Ron and I only get one full day off a week during Auror boot camp and we're spending it cleaning house and cooking," muttered Harry.

There was a noise at the back door, which opened up and admitted Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape. Dumbledore beamed as he saw the three at work in the kitchen.

"It is a pleasure to see the next generation hard at work on behalf of the Order."

"It appears our ex-pupils have found a suitable occupation," snarked Severus.

"It's the support staff who make sure everyone gets fed," smiled Hermione.

"Whatever you are making smells quite good," added Minerva, "I trust you are in charge of this detail, Hermione?"

"She's decided to experiment on us by fixing something she ate in Chicago." Ron finished with peeling the potatoes and used a charm to slice them into chips.

Snape walked over to the cooker and peered over Hermione's shoulder. He took a good sniff of the beef broth.

"Eliminating the scent of the peppers and onions, I detect oregano, sweet basil, marjoram," Severus said, taking another sniff, "a a touch of sage, black pepper, and salt. What are you preparing, Miss Granger?"

"It's called Italian beef," said Hermione, launching into an explanation, "It starts with a good beef roast, cooked rare and sliced paper thin." She nodded towards Harry, "Harry's very good at carving charms. The broth is prepared with the spices you identified, Professor," complimented Hermione. "The broth is simmered for about half an hour. The beef is dropped in small amounts into the broth for about a minute, which finishes the cooking process without overcooking and toughening the meat. The sandwich is assembled using a crusty French bread, adding the beef with a layer of the sautéed onions and peppers and topped with a spoonful or two of the broth. Enough broth is added to moisten the sandwich and add flavor, but not enough to make the bread soggy. Depending on personal preference, mozzarella cheese can be melted on top, though purists would say that is sacrilege."

"An interesting recipe, Miss Granger," replied Severus, "I shall look forward to sampling the completed version. I have a fondness for roast beef sandwiches and this is a way of preparing one I have not previously experienced." Severus nodded to Hermione, pointedly not noticing Ron and Harry gaping at seeing him compliment Granger.

Dumbledore, enjoying the exchange, interrupted. "It is a well known fact that those who master potions make the best cooks."

"It is only logical, Albus," remarked Severus, "We have a special appreciation for the finest ingredients and a dab hand at intermingling spices to produce the subtle nuances of culinary delight. Although I have few opportunities to use my skills in preparing food, I do enjoy it when I have the chance."

"I am sure Harry and Ron would appreciate an opportunity to try something you have prepared, Severus," smiled Dumbledore.

"It would be a pleasure to prepare a meal for them sometime," answered Severus with a wicked look, "I would ensure the occasion was... memorable. However, I believe we have business to attend to. Miss Granger, I hope you made enough for seconds?"

"There's plenty, sir."

Severus nodded and swept out of the kitchen.

"Geez, Hermione," said Ron, "That was almost a compliment."

"No kidding," said Harry, "He threatens you and me with botulism or worse and then implies Hermione has an appreciation for 'subtle nuances'."

"I believe your Italian beef recipe has intrigued our Potions Master, Hermione," twinkled Dumbledore.

"I hope _everyone_ likes it," emphasized Hermione, "There are other things I've had in Chicago that I'd like to try here. Have you ever had a Horseshoe sandwich?"

"I do not believe I have heard of that one," remarked Dumbledore.

"It's a coronary on a platter," explained Hermione, "Take bread, thin sliced ham, beef, or turkey, a layer of chips, and cover the whole thing with a Welsh rarebit sauce. I tried one last week and hardly felt the need to eat for two days. No one could tell me why they call it a Horseshoe."

"Probably because they threw everything on it but the horse," teased Ron.

"How is college coming, Hermione?" inquired Minerva.

"Very well. I'm just in the computer class right now. If we can ever figure out a way to make electronic devices work in a heavily magicked environment, a computer would be a marvelous device to have. It speeds up writing and calculating to a remarkable degree. The ability to store and access volumes of information is there too."

"I am not entirely convinced about these computers." Minerva shook her head. "I cannot believe they could replace a parchment and quill."

"It's all in what we're used to," said Hermione, as she turned to Harry, "Are you ready to start the chips?"

"All set," said Harry, deftly dropping the sliced potatoes into hot oil.

Hermione turned back to Minerva and Dumbledore. "When the chips are done, I'll start assembling the sandwiches and bring them out to everyone."

"Then we shall join the others in the parlor," answered Dumbledore, holding the door open for Minerva.

The parlor was crowded tonight. Remus occupied his favorite place in the rocking chair, Nymphadora Tonks sitting beside him on a cushion on the floor she seemed to prefer. Molly and Arthur were on the sofa that they shared with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Bill Weasley sat on one of the dining room chairs. Mad-Eye Moody took another one of the dining room chairs and set it against a wall and sat down. Dumbledore and Minerva took their regular seats in the wingback chairs. Severus summoned another chair from the dining room and took a seat. Casual conversation ensued as Ron brought out plates of food and handed them to the Order members. Once everyone was served, the three from the kitchen came out with their plates and joined the group.

Dumbledore was attempting to pick a piece of sautéed onion out of his beard when he turned the conversation to the business at hand. Remus began by giving his report.

"As you all know, we were expecting some form of attack by the Dark Lord around the time of Hogwarts end of term. History has shown each year of Harry's attendance at Hogwarts brought some form of attack or attempt on his life at the end of the school year, except during his Second Year. The Dark Lord did not plan the situation with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, which was the only exception to the pattern. The murder of the Muggleborn families appears to mark a change in his tactics."

Remus gave Hermione a sympathetic look. "Severus tells us the Dark Lord is managing the Death Eaters differently than in the past. Would you elaborate on that for us, Severus?"

"I can certainly confirm this to be the case," Severus nodded to Lupin. "The Dark Lord no longer discloses his plans to the full inner circle. The only person who appears to be privy to the Dark Lord's plans is Peter Pettigrew, though I cannot confirm if he knows everything the Dark Lord plans. Pettigrew and I are not on the kind of terms where he would confide any such information with me."

"As you all know," he continued, "Lucius Malfoy is a member of the inner circle. He views me as a friend and confides in me. Malfoy has also seen the difference in the Dark Lord's management of the Death Eaters. He is organizing the Death Eaters into cells. The members of each cell know who the other cell members are, but not the identities of members of other cells. Members of the inner circle are being assigned as cell leaders. A cell can be assigned a task. They carry out the task and report either to Pettigrew or the Dark Lord himself. Bellatrix Lestrange headed the cell assigned to murder the Muggleborn families. The inner circle was not told of the plan to conduct the murders."

Severus stole a glance at Hermione, wondering about her reaction to hearing her parents' murder discussed in such a dispassionate manner. He noted Potter and Weasley sitting on either side of her. Potter took her hand and Weasley placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at both of them gratefully.

Severus continued, "My role in the Death Eaters has always been different than that of most. I am typically not included in raids or other actions that purely require 'muscle'. I am used more in my role as a Potions Master, to brew potions requested by the Dark Lord. I am also his spy within Hogwarts, expected to report on the Headmaster's activities and until last month, I was expected to monitor Potter's actions. As long as the Dark Lord does not disclose his plans to the inner circle, I will not be able to provide the kind of information I have in the past." Severus shook his head. "This will leave us blind."

Dumbledore stood and moved to the fireplace. He stretched out his arms and rested his hands on the mantle. He looked into the mirror mounted above the mantle and saw in it the faces of his friends, members of the Order he created years ago to fight Voldemort. He thought back more than eighty years to 1916 when he worked with a group of Russian wizards to destroy Rasputin, a dark wizard who ensorcelled the Russian royal family. Rasputin had crossed the line by attempting conquest of a Muggle nation. Dumbledore coordinated an international team of wizards to destroy him.

Dumbledore considered the events of 1936, when Grindelwald allied himself with the fascists of Europe and manipulated events in the Muggle world, ultimately resulting in World War II. It was not until 1945 until the Muggle world was able to finish the war and only by destroying most of Germany and unleashing weapons of mass destruction on Japan. Dumbledore led the international team of wizards, including Minerva and Moody, who tracked down Grindelwald and his followers. The loss of life attributable to Grindelwald and his allies was immense.

Voldemort is as Grindelwald was in 1936, he considered. If Voldemort takes wizarding England, it will be just the first stop on his plans for world conquest. How many more lives will he take? How long before the Muggle world is influenced by the war in the wizarding world? There must not be a World War III. The weapons of mass destruction unleashed by the next World War could lead to nothing but the destruction of the planet.

This must end, he thought. We must stop fighting a defensive war and take the offensive. His decision made, Dumbledore turned around and faced the members of the Order of the Phoenix. He looked into the faces of his friends, his colleagues, and his comrades in arms.

"It is time for us to look at this war differently than we have so far. We have fallen into a pattern. Tom Riddle attacks and we defend ourselves. Riddle plans and we respond to send his plans astray. We have allowed Riddle to run this war on his terms. As a result, we sit and wait for Riddle's next move. It is time to change this."

Dumbledore examined the faces before him. Remus was looking at him with intense interest. Molly had fear in her eyes. Bill was nodding with enthusiastic agreement. Severus was, as always, neutral and unreadable. Harry's eyes were alight with excitement. Minerva, pensive, gave a silent nod of assent. Kingsley leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. Old Mad-Eye sat stiffly, looking grim. Arthur was examining Albus' expression to see if he meant it. Ron, looking so much like his older brother, nodded in the same way. Tonks was looking up to Remus and taking his hand as he looked back down at her. Hermione seemed deep in thought.

Dumbledore continued, "We need tactics. We need weapons. We need opportunities. We must create them ourselves. This is the challenge we face -- the challenge I give you."

Seeing positive responses, he pursued it further, "All of you here form the core of the Order. Each of you has different strengths and opportunities. I rely on each of you to draw on those strengths and opportunities to come up with the creative breakthrough we need."

"This will not happen overnight. We do not know why Riddle has slowed the pace of his attacks. It could mean he is planning something major and is saving his resources. It may mean his priorities have changed. We have no means of knowing -- through no fault of yours, Severus." Severus inclined his head in response. "I want each of you to consider this and look for new possibilities. When next we meet, we will begin to discuss those possibilities."

"Are we in agreement?" Dumbledore asked.

Voices were heard over each other as Bill, Ron, Harry, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley called out their agreement. Arthur nodded, while Molly held his hand and kept her opinion to herself. Severus was silent, looking at the others. Hermione looked worried. Mad-Eye, his magical eye doing figure eights, raised his voice to be heard over the others.

"Albus -- we are not going to war today?" he asked.

Albus looked at him curiously, "Of course not. It means we must change our tactics, but must do so with a plan behind the change."

"So this doesn't mean that Harry and Ron should be taking off to go Dark Lord hunting, like they are considering doing?" Mad-Eye looked sternly at the two young men in question.

Severus quirked a smile so quickly Minerva almost missed it.

"Come on Moody, you know better than that," sputtered Harry.

"I can't believe you'd think that," grumbled Ron.

"I can and do think exactly that. It's what I'd have done at your age, which means you have to be stopped from that line of thinking immediately."

"How perceptive of you, old friend," twinkled Dumbledore, "As the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I order the two of you to restrain yourselves. We will develop our plan as a team and we will implement it as a team. There will be no independent actions, except in self-defense. Is this understood by _everyone_?"

The two young men in question nodded as the others looked on in amusement.

"Albus," interrupted Remus, "we have some other matters to deal with."

"Ah, yes. Thank you for the reminder. We have some mundane business to attend to," replied Dumbledore.

"First," said Remus, "I would like to thank Harry, Ron, and Dobby for clearing and cleaning the cellar."

Dobby was nowhere to be seen, but Harry and Ron chimed in with "You're welcome," to Remus.

Remus gave them a wicked smile, "I am certain Severus will want to thank you both personally, since he is going to be using the space."

Severus returned Remus' rather wicked look, "If we are going to look for new weapons against the Dark Lord, there is research which cannot be done at Hogwarts. All it would take is an inspection by the Board of Governors and any wards that I could set would be required to be taken down. Our work could be discovered. Therefore, any actual brewing of potions to be used for such purpose will take place here."

Severus turned towards Harry and Ron. "I would like to thank you for your hard work in preparing the cellar for my use."

Two very disgruntled apprentice Aurors muttered something unintelligible in return.

"I will return tomorrow to begin setting up the potions laboratory. Miss Granger?" Severus turned to Hermione; "I believe you will not be returning to the college until tomorrow evening?"

"I plan to leave about 8 PM London time. It will get me back to Chicago at 2 o'clock in the afternoon," she replied.

"May I impose upon you to assist me in setting up the laboratory?" requested Severus.

Hermione beamed with delight. This was truly a compliment. "I'd be happy to help, sir."

Dumbledore was pleased to Hermione and Severus getting along so well. He knew that Severus tended to treat his students very differently after leaving Hogwarts, but feared it might take a long time for that to happen with the trio. It was likely Harry and Ron would take longer, but it looked like Hermione had made the transition into the classification of adult.

Other minor pieces of business were taken care of. Dumbledore dismissed most of the group, holding back a few carefully chosen members of the Order to discuss confidential matters. The Weasleys, except for Bill, decided to head back to the Burrow. Harry and Hermione left with them. Since Bill had decided to stay on for the next school year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, he was invited to join the strategy meetings of the inner circle. Brandy was offered around and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, Snape, Lupin, and Weasley settled in for their meeting.

"First," said Dumbledore, "You should be aware that Riddle knows Hermione is at Avalon College. Severus, would you share your report?"

"All of you know Draco Malfoy is attending Avalon College. Malfoy and Granger are both enrolled in a summer course on use of computers and neither knew the other would be there. They encountered each other in the dormitory the day before classes began, Granger portkeyed back to the Burrow and Arthur immediately flooed Albus. I was sent to meet with them and explain why she was not informed Malfoy would be there. Miss Granger has been reassured that Malfoy is no threat to her and that the Dark Lord has agreed to his attendance in an effort to engage in long-term infiltration of American wizarding society. At my request, Miss Granger agreed to attempt to befriend Malfoy at a minimal level in order to aid in his adapting to his new situation."

"Are you certain this is safe for her?" questioned Bill.

"Severus," interrupted Dumbledore, "Perhaps you should explain to the group what your long-term plan is for the Malfoys."

"Albus and I have discussed the possibility of turning the Malfoy family to our side. I have reason to believe the family is amenable to this."

"Severus, are you absolutely sure?" asked Minerva, "I realize you and Lucius have been friends a long time, in and out of the Death Eaters. He is a master manipulator and opportunist. He could be using you with plans to betray you later."

"I understand your concerns, Minerva." Severus spoke with strong assurance, "This has been developing over the last few years. There is no question that Lucius Malfoy is a bigot, Pureblood supremacist, and supremely ambitious. But, he is not completely amoral. Not when he can see Draco's face on every child threatened by the Dark Lord."

Severus shook his head, "Have no doubt in your minds, every Death Eater with a family has had his loved ones held hostage or threatened by the Dark Lord. It is the ultimate punishment to ensure loyalty and discourage failure. Lucius has lived in fear for Narcissa and Draco since the moment the Dark Lord resurrected himself. The closer Draco has come to adulthood, the greater the fear. No one knows better than a Death Eater the price that must be paid for accepting the Dark Mark."

The self-loathing was evident in his voice as he continued, "One very stupid mistake and you and your family pay for the rest of your life. The Dark Lord made it clear he expected Draco to join the Death Eaters after graduation. Lucius would have traded his own life if it would have kept it from happening, but it would not have been enough. The Dark Lord would have killed Narcissa and Draco for the refusal. When I told Lucius about Avalon College and offered an alternative, he grasped it like a drowning man."

"Does Draco want to be a Death Eater?" asked Bill, unconvinced.

"No," replied Severus, "He has seen his father beaten, bloodied, and in spasms from after effects of Crucio. He has seen the double life Lucius has led. Draco may believe in Pureblood superiority, but he is not a fascist. When offered a way out, he took it, even if it meant immersing himself in a culture which falls completely outside of his life experience."

"You believe the Malfoys are ready to turn?" asked Remus.

"Yes," Severus replied with confidence, "With Draco out of the country and assurances from the Dark Lord that he will not require Draco to take the Dark Mark until after he graduates, the Malfoys are ready."

"Does Malfoy suspect your double role?"

"I believe he has wondered, but has never asked the question. It has never been safe for him to ask for fear of what the answer might be. Lucius could have betrayed me to the Dark Lord a dozen times over to avoid a punishment or gain favor, but never has. I believe he has been hoping for me to find a way out for them. Now that Draco is safe, the time is coming to make the offer."

"How would you go about it?" asked Minerva.

"Carefully. I have begun working with Lucius on enhancing his skills as an Occlumens. He must be able to block the Dark Lord from seeing memories of our conversations before I can disclose anything to him. He is making good progress and was able to block the Dark Lord in a casual scan just yesterday." Severus accepted a refill on his brandy.

"With the new cell structure, having a second spy in the inner circle doubles our chances of finding out useful information. Lucius may be a major financial backer for the Dark Lord, but he is also viewed as a strategist and leader for the muscle component of the Death Eaters. If raids are planned, he is more likely to be a part of them than I."

"I think we need to trust Severus' judgment in this," said Remus, choosing his words carefully, "If you are teaching Occlumency to Malfoy, you are getting inside his head. If you had seen doubts or genuine loyalty to the Dark Lord, you would not be proposing this kind of strategy. However, Malfoy is not _you. _His reasoning for switching sides is based in preserving his family and not a true change in his belief in Pureblood supremacy. To gain our help, Malfoy will need to demonstrate his value to us. I can't see us trusting him enough to disclose anything to him until we are absolutely sure he won't use it for personal gain."

"I agree," added Minerva, "Malfoy could be an asset, but that asset must be managed very carefully so we are not left vulnerable to betrayal."

"This is one of the biggest risks we could possibly take, Albus," said Mad-Eye, shaking his head and suspicion all over his face, "Snape, if you are wrong about Malfoy, wrong to the smallest degree, you might as well hand yourself over to Riddle. He'll strip your mind of everything you know about the Order, putting all of us in danger and risking everything we've built."

"You remember Tortinger during the first war and what he did to him?" reminded Moody.

Everyone in the room was sickened by the suggestion, knowing the full story. When Death Eater Wilson Tortinger betrayed Voldemort, the Dark Lord barely escaped the Order's raid. When Voldemort realized who had done it, he personally used a slicing spell to skin Tortinger alive before a full assembly of his Death Eaters and arranged for his body to be left in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic.

"You're risking yourself," continued Moody, "And the nastiest death Riddle's sick mind can imagine. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I am willing to take the risk for myself, but risk to the Order is inherent in that," Severus answered dryly, "We cannot accomplish enough with only myself as an informant. I was not privy to the plans for the Muggleborn family raids. Who knows what other plans there are of which I know nothing? Two of us in the inner circle doubles our chances of learning useful intelligence."

"It is time to take the risk," said Albus confidently, "Riddle is changing his tactics and we must change ours."

"At this point, Severus should be the only contact he has with the Order," suggested Bill.

"Agreed," interrupted Albus, "Is there any further discussion on this issue?" He looked around, but no one else responded. "There appears to be consensus that Lucius Malfoy should be cultivated as a spy, but he will have to prove his worth before we place trust in him. At a future time, I may wish to arrange a meeting between Malfoy, Severus, and myself."

Seeing negative looks from Bill and Minerva, Albus held up his hand to keep them from interrupting. "I say this in advance, because when the meeting occurs it may be at very short notice without opportunity for advanced consultation with all of you. Be assured, Malfoy would not know ahead of time that I would be attending. As much as I trust Severus judgment in this matter, with the risk involved a second opinion from a skilled Legilimens would not be out of order, especially if we decide to use Malfoy in a crucial way. Knowing that Lucius is an Occlumens, I can look for signs of being blocked. In my 125 years of experience as a Legilimens, I have obtained a few skills for detecting Occlumency others may not have."

"With this consensus and the stipulations discussed here, I will proceed with my plan to cultivate Lucius as a second spy within the Death Eaters," confirmed Severus.

"Before we changed the discussion to Lucius Malfoy, we were talking about Hermione Granger and any risk posed by Draco Malfoy. I do not believe this was resolved," said Minerva.

Remus looked at Severus thoughtfully. "Do you think there is any risk to Hermione now that the Dark Lord knows where she is?"

"I realize this will offend all of you because you know Miss Granger quite well, but the Dark Lord believes her influence over Harry Potter is based in a sexual relationship, not friendship. The Dark Lord does not believe a teenage girl can be a friend with two teenage boys without sex being involved. It is part of his bias to assume she is being shared by the two of them and is promiscuous beyond that," said Severus wryly.

"Given the distance between Miss Granger and the two young men in question and as long as they are not seen making visits to the campus, the Dark Lord will assume he is correct," continued Severus, "If he believes they are not getting sex from her, their interest in her will wane and he will see her as unimportant. Draco Malfoy will provide intelligence to the effect that he does not see Potter and Weasley coming around and Miss Granger will most likely be safe."

"We'll have to talk to Ron and Harry about not going to the college to visit Hermione," recommended Bill.

"One of the reasons I asked Miss Granger to assist me tomorrow in setting up the potions lab in the cellar is to discuss it with her," explained Severus, "At this point, your brother and Potter do not know Draco Malfoy is at the college. I will talk to her about the best way to tell them and mayimpose on you to help with giving them that news. The worst thing that could happen would be for the two of them to decide to defend Miss Granger by attacking Draco Malfoy."

"I'll be glad to help with that, Severus. Those two can be hot-headed enough and they've become extremely protective of Hermione since she lost her parents," said Bill, "It speaks volumes that Riddle cannot imagine Harry and Ron perceiving Hermione as a sister."

"The Dark Lord has tunnel vision where such things are concerned," responded Severus, "He cannot imagine having a friendship with a woman himself, so does not believe it could be possible for others."

"Then I cannot imagine what he must think of me," remarked Minerva, "Not that I care in the least."

"From what I have observed, the Dark Lord views women in two ways. They are either whores or nuns and he has little use for them one way or the other," replied a disgusted Severus, "And before any of you ask, he seems to be bisexual. From what I have heard, he uses Bellatrix Lestrange and the few other female Death Eaters, prisoners of both sexes, and occasionally punishes a male Death Eater by sodomizing him. That is all I intend to say on a very distasteful subject."

"While this knowledge has value," added Albus, "I cannot think of a strategic use for this information right now. There is no evidence to believe Riddle has a meaningful relationship with anyone of either gender. We cannot manipulate a relationship that does not exist. All it tells us is that Riddle has a penchant for rape, which could have been predicted by his overall brutality."

"Is there any evidence the Dark Lord uses Peter Pettigrew for sex?" asked Remus.

"There are no rumors to that effect, but Pettigrew is with the Dark Lord as his servant. Who knows what those duties entail?"

"Remembering back to the Marauder days," mused Remus, "Pettigrew was an aspiring but unsuccessful heterosexual. If the Dark Lord has forced him into a non-consensual relationship, Pettigrew might resent it. We could use that."

"I will listen for rumors, but have heard none so far. I will need to ask a favor of some of you," replied Severus, changing the subject. "Minerva, I must thank you for staging that scene with me where you told me you did not trust me. The Dark Lord viewed the memory and accepted it as real. It protected me yesterday when I met with him and he probed my mind looking for indications I knew Granger was at the college. I will need to stage some additional scenes."

He smiled at Minerva, a look of pure mischief in his eyes. "I told the Dark Lord you have a weakness for good firewhisky and cigars and I would use both to get the information out of you as to why you helped Granger get into Avalon."

The other four burst into laughter.

"Severus, I will be more than happy to enjoy your whisky and cigars with you and say anything you please for the sake of the Order," laughed Minerva, "It is a sacrifice I am willing to make."

"I may need scenes staged with Albus and Bill as well. The Dark Lord knows Bill is at Hogwarts on a permanent basis, so I may need to have a conversation with you about your brother's relationship with Granger. I will need something with you, Albus, about your fears that Potter is slipping out of your control now that he has graduated."

"You will have our full cooperation in anything you need, Severus," replied Albus.

"I have one other piece of business to discuss." Severus reached into the pocket of his robes and took out the small glass vial with the leaf. He passed it to Albus. "Do any of you recognize this leaf? I plucked it off the hem of the Dark Lord's robe yesterday. It is magical in nature. I felt a tingle in my fingers when I held it. I checked a few of my herbology texts and have been unable to identify it."

Albus looked at it closely, shook his head and passed it onto Minerva. "I have never seen a seven sided leaf before."

Each of them looked at the leaf, but none could identify it.

"If you have time over the next week or two to look through any of your own reference books, I would be grateful. Pomona is on a trip to China and will not be back for another month. Anything that references a heptagonal leaf may be useful. This leaf may have no significance at all, but I do not want to dismiss any possibilities."

"Indeed. We must not pass up any opportunities which may present themselves." Dumbledore looked around at the others. "If there is no further business, I suggest we adjourn."

Brandies were finished, chairs returned to the dining room, and the members of the inner circle retired to their respective homes.

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Many thanks to my reviewers for their encouragement, constructive criticism, and overall support: Lady Rhian, Snapedreamer, Joani the Unique Being, Severus Fan, Duj, Flowerpagoda, Jinxd n cursed, Princess Fiona, Rinny 08, Ozratbag2, Siren 34, and Dagworth.


	24. Chapter 24

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia for going through the details and pointing out what is British and what is not. If you notice the characters speak with much more elegance, Julia's suggestions are the reason why. Continued thanks to Amrun for all her suggestions and the lessons in grammar and punctuation.

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Hermione, August 2, 1998

"I like your hair like that, Hermione." Ginny sat on the bed in Hermione's room.

"The hairdresser at The Charmed Lock showed me how to do it." Hermione turned her head this way and that, admiring the look in the mirror. "This is the first time I've used the charm."

"Honey, you look so much nicer than just putting your hair in a ponytail all the time," said the mirror.

"I agree with the mirror. It's an old-fashioned look, but it really suits you." Ginny got up and stood behind Hermione. The two faces reflected back in the old mirror above the bureau.

"The hairdresser called it a Gibson Girl style. She said it's from the late 1800's." Hermione reached up and pulled down one of the wisps of hair on the side of her face, evening it with the matching wisp on the other side. "She said my thick frizzy hair was the height of beauty then." Hermione's hair was pulled up on top of her head, but loosely using her thick hair to add fullness around her face. A tightly pinned bun was at the top. Tendrils of hair escaped, adding a romantic look around her face and neck.

"Even the way my hair escapes the pins goes really well with the style," she said, "I never could keep it in a plait without the plait looking frizzy after a few hours. And I just hate using Sleekeazy on it. It took so much to make it smooth; it made my hair greasy."

"It's much more becoming than the plaits you see everywhere," remarked Ginny. "It makes you look older, really grown-up."

"That's why I gave myself a trip to a real beauty shop as a present for finishing school." Hermione saw no reason to disclose her real gift to herself. Some things you just don't need to tell your friends. "I want to be taken seriously and my messy hair was being noticed a lot sooner than my brain. I decided to go for an image change." Hermione twitched her hip in emphasis, which sent Ginny into hysterical laughter.

"So you're going for the sexy scholarly look?" she hiccupped.

"Oh Ginny, I don't think I could do sexy if my life depended on it. I think I could happily settle for reasonably attractive, professional, and tidy."

"Tidy," Ginny chortled. "Tidy is for wardrobes and organizing a bureau. You could do sexy." She stood beside Hermione in front of the mirror. "Just think about what it would be like to have to have someone tall, dark, and handsome reach up into you hair to take it down. You know there's nothing like having your hair up to get the wizard of your dreams thinking about how he'd like to take it down and have it spread all around your head on the pillow. It says so in _Witch Weekly._"

"Okay. I'm thinking about it." Hermione let the image of her fantasy lover's long slender hands come into her mind. She thought about those hands pulling pins out of her hair, one at a time. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Honestly Ginny, the only difference I can see is I'm blushing."

"No. Your eyelids dropped just a little." Ginny tilted her head. "That half-closed eyelids look when your head is on a pillow is very sexy."

"Oh good. All I have to do is have a pillow with me at all times and drop my head onto it and half close my eyes if I want to look sexy," she grumbled. "That'll send a really great message to every man on campus."

"You might need to practice," suggested Ginny.

"Dearie," suggested the mirror, "A lot of young ladies have looked in me over the years and I'll tell you the same thing I've told them. Just be yourself. When you're with the right man and the feeling is real, it will show on your face and he'll know. That will be the sexiest look you could possibly have. Us mirrors don't just reflect while we're hanging on walls, you know."

"Remind me never to have sex without putting a towel over the mirror," said Ginny.

"Good idea," agreed Hermione.

"Well, you needn't get huffy about it," the mirror harrumphed.

"Did you get any other charms for you hair, Hermione?" asked Ginny, pointedly ignoring the mirror.

"Two others," said Hermione. "This is the one I use most of the time." She picked up two hair combs and put them in her hair. She waived her wand and the pins from the Gibson girl hairstyle popped out and settled on the chest-of-drawers. Her hair flowed down past her shoulders and the combs moved into place, pulling her hair back from her face and letting it go down her back in soft but frizzy waves.

"You see how it makes the hair kind of puff around my face before the combs go in?" asked Hermione. "It's that old-fashioned look, but it really works for me. My hair doesn't overwhelm my face nearly as much."

"You have delicate features," nodded Ginny, "That's why the puffed-out look works. It takes advantage of your thick hair and the natural curl. What's the other one?"

"The other one is similar to this, but puts my hair in a snood." Hermione pulled a crocheted hair net out of the drawer. "I plan to wear this when I'm working on potions or something that will make a mess out of my hair. It covers it up except around my face." Another wave of the wand and the snood moved out of Hermione's hand and slipped around her thick volume of hair, attaching itself to the combs.

"Oh wow, Hermione," gushed Ginny, "That really looks good. You know if you changed the combs and wore a fancy snood or one made with gold threads, you could really dress it up. Does the charm only work with these wood combs?"

"No." Hermione reached into the drawer and took out two other styles. One was tortoiseshell and the other gold toned. "These are dressier and I can buy more styles. I think I can even charm the snood to keep out moisture, which will be even better when I'm going to be spending the whole day in a room full of bubbling cauldrons. You know how we all used to think Snape never washed his hair?"

"You think that his hair looks like that because of the heat and moisture in the lab?"

"I really do. If his scalp is oily anyway, it would only take a few hours for his hair to look as if it hadn't been washed for weeks."

"That's no excuse for not using a hair cleaning charm in between classes. I think he really doesn't care how it looks."

"You could be right, but I've got an image to attain and intend to have clean hair no matter what it takes." Hermione put the hair accessories into her weekender bag.

"Are you going to leave for Chicago from headquarters?" asked Ginny.

"Yes. I'm not sure exactly what Professor Snape needs me to do, but I'm glad to have a chance to help. I'm so far away from the action these days; at least I can help out by setting up the lab. Maybe I'll learn some things from my Muggle science classes this autumn that will help. I guess it's unlikely I'll learn anything in my Potions classes he doesn't already know, at least for a few years."

"I really envy you getting to do this, living in America and everything." Ginny sat back down on the bed and crossed her legs, looking up at her friend. "I want to take Mediwitch training, but I'll need a scholarship to get into the course at St. Mungo's."

"Your marks are really good Ginny." Hermione closed the drawer and put the last of her clothes into the weekender bag. She turned and leaned back against the chest-of-drawers. "I would think you'd have a chance at getting a scholarship. Doesn't the Ministry offer some special ones to the children of their employees?"

"That's what I'm counting on. Bill got one when he went on for his Charms apprenticeship. Charlie didn't have to pay for his training and neither does Ron since he's going to work for the Ministry. So it's been a while since any of us have applied for a scholarship. That will help."

Hermione gave Ginny a sly look. "And what does Harry think of your plans?"

"He's absolutely in favor of it. You do know that apprentice Mediwitches live in a residence hall at St. Mungo's?" Ginny gave the sly look right back at her.

"Which means you and Harry are both living in London, but you know he won't be allowed in the student accomodation and Remus is playing housemother at headquarters?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way. Believe me, Hermione, we'll find a way," said Ginny, determined. "Have you met anyone interesting at Avalon, yet?"

"No potential boyfriend material, so far. Hopefully, I'll meet someone this autumn when the campus is full. Another Potions student would be perfect."

"Ah, a study partner. And maybe something to study other than Potions?"

"By the Lady of the Lake," sighed Hermione, "After years of being chaperoned by Ron and Harry, I've some catching up to do."

"Amazing double-standard, isn't it? The men are supposed to go out and get all that they can and brag about it. We do anything and we're sluts. I hear my brothers bragging all the time and I'll bet they make up half of it, but if I whispered two words about shagging Harry, I'd be locked in my room and they'd beat him up."

"I know exactly what you mean. You remember during the winter when the Gryffindor boys were having a _how many can I nail_ contest?"

"Do I ever," grimaced Ginny, "I lectured Harry within an inch of his life and threatened to cut him off if he got involved in it."

"Well, I got propositioned by Neville. I was never so tempted to hex a man into impotence in all my life," replied an irritated Hermione. Ginny gave Hermione a curious look. "No, I did not," said Hermione emphatically, "I don't think of Neville that way at all. I've rescued him too many times from almost exploding his cauldrons to ever see him as boyfriend material. Not that I don't like him, but definitely not for shagging purposes."

"Hermione, you know that Harry and I have, well, you know. Have you ever?" Ginny stuttered the last part.

"No, I haven't." Hermione sat next to Ginny on the bed. "It's not that I haven't thought about it, I just haven't found anyone I cared enough about to want to. You and Harry are so lucky. You really love each other and don't try to tell me you haven't talked about getting married once Harry completes his training."

"We talk about everything, Hermione. It's so nice, afterwards. I feel all soft and loved and Harry's sleepy. We talk about what it will be like living together and having a baby and all that. It's like for a while there's no Voldemort, no prophesy, no Death Eaters. We get to just have us and we can pretend that's all there is."

"Ginny Weasley, I am jealous. You and Harry are planning babies and I can't get a decent kiss. I am pathetic. Am I the only person who ever left Hogwarts still able to hug a unicorn?" asked Hermione forlornly.

"Probably," agreed Ginny, reaching out to hug her.

Hermione's head snapped up, a look of horror on her face. "Even _Neville_?

"Luna Lovegood," answered Ginny, "He didn't win the contest, but the guys thought it merited an honorable mention."

"I worked so hard to be first in class," moaned Hermione, "So I'm last in everything else. I spent so much time in the library when I should have been hanging around Astronomy Tower."

"Oh stop it, Hermione. You've got standards, that's all," said Ginny consolingly, "You're waiting for love. I waited for love. There's no difference."

"Yes, there is. You've been in love with Harry since you were eleven. Harry's been in love with you since he was fifteen. That's not a whole lot of waiting. I'm almost nineteen and I've never been anywhere near being in love. What if I don't fall in love till I'm twenty-five? What if I never fall in love at all? Witches live to be one-hundred-fifty years old and I'll be the world's oldest living virgin."

"You're working yourself into a panic and you don't need to," coaxed Ginny, "He's out there; you just don't know who he is. Maybe you'll meet him this autumn or maybe it will be five years from now. You will date more when you get back to college. The selection at Hogwarts of men who are as smart as you are was slim, that's all."

"Bloody hell," cursed Hermione, "I'm going to be late if I don't get going."

"Snape can't take off House points once you finish school. I'm not letting you leave when you're upset like this."

"I'm not upset, I'm just frustrated," retorted Hermione. "No. That's not honest." Hermione paused thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with me. With the exception of you, all of my friends are men. They have no trouble at all seeing me as a friend, a sister, or a bookworm. They just don't see me as a girl."

"Well, from what I've seen of the new clothes you bought, your new robes, and your hair, they won't be able to mistake you for anything but a girl. And I don't mean a floozy. Plus you're in college now and on your own most of the time. That'll do a lot for your confidence." Ginny grinned at her. "I promise if I were a lesbian, I'd go for you."

"Thanks, Ginny" laughed Hermione, "I feel so much more reassured now."

"Glad I could help."

The two young women exchanged hugs. Hermione grabbed her backpack and slung her weekender bag over her shoulder and the two headed downstairs. Molly had finished up the breakfast dishes and was in the middle of baking bread. It smelled wonderful and homey.

"Are you heading off to headquarters, Hermione?" asked Molly.

"Yes. I promised Professor Snape I'd help set up the lab," she answered.

"Arthur and I will be coming over later to help Remus sort through intelligence reports. I'll bring biscuits."

"You're spoiling me, Molly."

"That's part of the plan," said Molly as she held her wand over the oven to check the status of the bread.

"I'm going to walk Hermione to the garden, Mum," said Ginny. The two women went out the back door of the kitchen and strolled into the garden beyond the anti-Apparation wards. "When will you be back?"

"I'm scheduled for proficiency tests the next three Saturdays, so it'll be almost a month before I can come home again."

"What proficiency tests?" questioned Ginny.

"Avalon will let me test out of some of the entry level classes. I think I can get exemptions from the English composition class, intro to Potions, Charms, Arithmancy and a couple of other classes. If I do, I could save as much as a half year and if I do summer classes, I could complete the program in five years instead of six."

"That would be great, Hermione. I guess all that extra studying for your NEWTs could really pay off." Ginny gave Hermione a last hug. "Don't go burying yourself in the library so much that you don't meet people, if you know what I mean."

Hermione laughed, "It's a deal. I'll see you in a few weeks."

---------------

Hermione gave the password and entered the kitchen by way of the back door. She looked around and listened and didn't hear anyone.

"Anybody home?" she called. No answer, so Hermione assumed Remus was out. She reset the wards and checked around the ground floor just to be sure. Confirming no one else was present; she headed down into the cellar. It was good sized, appearing to run the full length of the townhouse with some natural light entering from windows close to the ceiling on two walls. More illumination came from magical lamps mounted on the walls.

Some work had already been done with setting up the lab. A row of cabinets lined one wall. A long laboratory table was located along the intersecting wall, next to a sink with running water. Above the table were shelves mounted into the wall. Another laboratory table, fitted with two burners, stood parallel to the first with about eight feet between them. There were three lab stools and a few rickety chairs.

Hermione guessed the Professor had already been here getting the tables and cabinets in. Major redecorating was so much easier when magic was involved. Take a few crates, a little Transfiguration, and you have cabinets. An old workbench is changed into a laboratory table with a few wand waves and a Latin chant.

It looked like Harry and Ron had done a good job with the cleaning. The stone floor was spotless and a wave of her wand showed it had been magically sealed. The walls were clean and freshly painted. There were no signs of cobwebs or insects. Several packing cases were stacked on the table against the wall.

Hermione was getting ready to open one of the crates when she heard noises upstairs and the sound of Dobby's voice. The cellar door opened and an assortment of boxes were levitated down the stairs, followed by the diminutive elf. Dobby was dressed in his preferred style -- completely mismatched castoffs. He wore a Pink Floyd t-shirt, blue jeans with roses embroidered on the pockets, one blue and one green sock, black trainers, and what appeared to be a Harley Davidson leather cap.

"Hello Dobby," said Hermione, "It's so good to see you again."

"Miss Hermione, I is pleased to see you too. Professor Snape is coming; he said you is going to be here to help unpack." Dobby was grinning and bouncing his way down the stairs. He stopped at the lab table and the boxes floated over to join those already stacked on the table. Dobby looked up at her. "Miss Hermione, you looks nice!" he said in his squeaky voice.

"Why thank you, Dobby. I had my hair done."

"Do you always get your hair done for special occasions, such as unpacking Potions ingredients, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Snape as he came down the stairs after Dobby.

"No, sir. I got my hair done after leaving Hogwarts," laughed Hermione, "This is just the first time I've worn it this way since I came home."

Professor Snape stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing his usual black layers of robes over a frock coat, buttoned up to his chin and down to his wrists. He appeared to be examining Hermione's hair.

"You are wearing your hair in the classic Potions Mistress style. At the beginning of my apprenticeship with Master Arsenius Jigger, there was some overlap with another apprentice, Amanda Stuart. She wore her hair the same way while brewing and said it protected it from the heat and kept it out of the potions."

"I wish I'd known about this style while I was still at Hogwarts. I might have saved my House some points, even if Minerva replaced them over the next day or two."

Severus eyed her speculatively. "I see you discerned my method for dealing with the necessity to penalize your work in favor of Slytherins."

"I didn't catch on right away. It took about a month to see the pattern. You'll be pleased to know Harry and Ron never figured it out," said Hermione smiling.

"It is not surprising the two of them would not recognize subtlety. However, as pleasant as it may be to stroll down memory lane, I believe we have work to do."

Severus walked over to the first of the boxes on the table. "These are dried Potions ingredients. I would like them stored in the first cabinet in alphabetical order."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Thank you for taking away the points. The twenty-five points for the anti-depressant potion was a real compliment," she said.

"Unlike the other Potions created that day, and I use the term _created_ loosely, your draught is actually being used." Severus carried the box over to the lab table and opened it. He began removing jars of herbal ingredients, all carefully labeled in his spiked handwriting. He kept his eyes on his work as he spoke.

"You could not have known it, but your attention to the numerology of the ingredients, crystals, and charm customized the Potion for the student who now uses it. It matches the student's name, which also has a value of four. Customized Potions are expensive to develop and the individual's family could not have afforded it. He has gained significant benefit from taking it. The directions for making it have been given to his family so they may have the local apothecary prepare it for him."

Hermione looked at Professor Snape in stunned delight. She took a few steps forward and looked up at him.

"It was really good enough to use?" Her whole face lit up.

Severus looked down at Hermione. "It was and is good enough to use. I am confident it is just the first of many such developments for you, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt as if he had just handed her the world. This was affirmation, the feedback she'd craved. Her work was good enough to use. Good enough to help another person. Good enough to make a difference in someone's life. Her eyes glowed.

"This is what makes it all worthwhile, isn't it Professor?"

"Yes, it is." For a moment, Hermione thought he'd let a smile slip through. "But now, Miss Granger, we have a laboratory to set up and had best get about it."

"Yes, sir." Hermione took another box and began to unpack.

Two hours later, an assortment of jars, vials, pouches, and tins of Potions ingredients were put away in their proper place in the cabinets. Hermione sat at the table, writing a list as Professor Snape dictated.

"As soon as Lupin gets the cold storage down here, we will need Ashwinder eggs, the standard snake venoms and dragons' bloods, blood extracts, Quintaped liver and plasma, and the other standard frozen ingredients. I will ask Fawkes to contribute additional Phoenix tears. I have found they maintain integrity when frozen for up to three months. They are still the most versatile healing substance I have ever found."

Severus stood with his hands on his hips. "I will need to bring two more pewter cauldrons in sizes four and six, two tempered glass in the same sizes, and one silver size 3. If a gold cauldron is needed, it will have to be borrowed from Hogwarts. What stirring implements will be required, Miss Granger?"

"The standard assortment of wood implements: oak, willow, rowan, applewood, maple, chestnut, birch, ash, mahogany, and teak. Glass, silver, gold-plated, pewter, bronze, a selenite wand, and quartz. Do you think platinum-plated will be needed or any of the more unusual woods, sir?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. A platinum plated stirrer and even a platinum plated cauldron are used on occasion for some of the more esoteric healing potions. We will also need rosewood and walnut. Add strainers and flint knives to the list, Miss Granger."

"Yes, sir. Would you like to keep an assortment of crystals here?"

"Certainly. This lab and our quantities may be small, but one never knows what will be useful. I would like to be as well-prepared as possible. As my research moves into weapons development, I will need cabinets along that remaining wall. Those will have to be specially made with protective wards built in. Dumbledore will need to order them through one of his contacts."

Hermione reached into her ever-present backpack and pulled out a velveteen bag.

"I can contribute a start on the crystals. I have duplicates of all of these back in the residence hall."

Severus paused for a moment and she thought he might refuse. She hoped he wouldn't. She wanted to contribute and there were few ways she could do so, long-distance.

"As I recall, you have a very fine collection. Thank you, Miss Granger." He accepted the bag and opened it, pouring a few of the crystals into his palm.

"They've all been water-cleansed and have a full moon charge," she said.

"I would expect nothing less than full preparedness from you, Miss Granger." Severus poured the crystals back into the bag. He opened a cabinet and set the bag inside. "Thank you for contributing them." He looked around the room. "You have saved me a good deal of work today."

"Thank you for asking me. I'd like to help whenever I can," said Hermione sincerely.

"How is Draco Malfoy doing?" Severus took one of the lab stools and sat opposite from Hermione at the table. Dobby had brought tea in earlier, two mugs with tea bags. Severus took his drink and looked with disgust at the tea bag. He fished it out and looked at it as of he had just found a cockroach floating in the water.

"He's struggling a bit with technology, but overall I'd say he's doing well. He likes ballpoint pens, is developing a collection of film videotapes – action movies featuring loud explosions, wants to buy a car, hates lifts, likes his wristwatch, and detests the cafeteria food. Draco is doing very well in the computer class. He's getting along with most of the students in the residence hall and is much more reserved than he was at Hogwarts. There are times when I think someone replaced the original Draco with a much more pleasant duplicate."

"It makes a difference that he does not have all of Slytherin watching. Draco has a reputation as a Malfoy he always felt obligated to live up to." Severus's dark eyes were animated. "I wondered if he might not mellow a bit being away from those expectations."

"He and I have been getting along," confessed Hermione, "When I returned to Avalon after you talked to the Weasleys and me about Draco, I invited him to go out with Anita Schuler and me for pizza. That broke the ice. We have most of our meals together, sit together in class and help each other, and he even went clothes shopping with us."

Hermione leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand. "You should see Draco, now. We had him in blue jeans, a t-shirt, and leather jacket. He could've passed for Muggle. I'll bet he didn't wear those clothes at Malfoy Manor this weekend." Hermione grinned.

Severus laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep, rolling, and genuine.

"I daresay you are quite correct about that, Miss Granger," Severus answered, amused. "I would give much to see the look on his father's face if he did wear them home."

"They'd think he'd gone native, wouldn't they?" Hermione paused and took a sip of her tea. "I never thought I'd live to see the day I'd be saying nice things about Draco Malfoy, but he's not half bad now. We are careful about what we talk about. We don't talk about our families or any of the unpleasant times at Hogwarts. We joke about pranks and talk about funny things that happened."

"It is too early to decide if this experiment is working," said Severus, "But, it appears progress has been made."

"I haven't said anything to Harry, Ron, or anyone back here about Draco being at the college." Hermione shook her head. "I think I'm going to need help with that. They're liable to have a knee-jerk reaction and take off after him."

"I have discussed that with our more senior Order members. After the computer class is over and we can determine more definitively if this will work, Bill Weasley and I will meet with the three of you to talk about it. I will tell them you were under orders from Dumbledore not to inform them of Draco's presence."

"That will help. Thank you for offering. I really don't want to lie to them."

"How is college going for you?" inquired Severus.

"Very well. I wish you had access to a computer and Internet here. It is absolutely amazing what you can do with them," she said enthusiastically. "Journal articles are available on-line and students have access to thousands of texts from the library."

"Back when I took chemistry at Oxford, we had a computer available. It was an IBM mainframe and you had a choice of having your data keypunched onto cards and manually fed into the computer or you had to use an interactive terminal. With the few classes I took, I had no real opportunity to learn to use it. I used to pay another student to input the data for me. I could not type, either. I paid another student to type my research papers for me. I did have a handheld calculator. I miss having a calculator," sighed Severus.

"It is much easier now and what I know just barely scratches the surface of what computers can do. Anita Schuler has shown me some of the other programs they've developed for Herbology, Charms, and Arithmancy. It's remarkable how much information they have on-line. If I want a Latin word, I can look it up the English to Latin dictionary. If I need a numerological analysis on a charm, I can plug it into a program and it runs the totals for me in an instant."

"In the next few years, when I learn to run a spectral analysis, I'll be able to break down any potion into its component parts and identify them at the molecular level. If I want to know the molecular composition of any potion ingredient, I'll be able to do an analysis. The technology can save hours of work or provide information we can't get through magic. I really wish I could show you, Professor," said Hermione wistfully.

Severus looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps some day when my movements are less restricted, I shall have the opportunity to explore such things. Unfortunately, I cannot leave the British Isles without risking the Dark Lord learning of it. He prefers to keep me on a rather short leash," He reached into a pocket in his robes, took out a small vial, and handed it to Hermione. "Miss Granger, do you recognize this leaf?"

Hermione took the vial and held it up to the light coming in from one of the cellar windows.

"This is interesting, a seven-sided leaf." Hermione turned it and looked at it from different angles. "I don't believe I've seen one like it before. What is it?"

"I do not know either and none of the Order members I have shown it to can identify it," answered Severus. "Professor Sprout is in China for the next several weeks, so it will have to wait until she returns. None of my reference books show anything like it."

Hermione's brain started to hum.

"Professor, I just mentioned a Herbology computer program at the college. There is a way it can be used to identify plants. The leaf has to be scanned." Hermione looked at Severus intently and searched her mind for a comparison he'd recognize. "That's like making a photocopy of it on a copy machine. The image is sent into the computer program, which outlines the shape of the leaf and can search hundreds of thousands of plant images and make a comparison. It then gives a list of plants it matches or nearly matches."

"Miss Granger, I take it this computer program could potentially identify this leaf?"

"Yes, sir. I think it can. Would you be willing to trust me with it for a short time? I could Portkey back to the college, run the analysis, and be back with the results in a few hours."

"This process will not destroy or damage the leaf?"

"Not unless the leaf is so dry that it will crumble when I scan it. A scanner is like a copy machine. It has a glass top and lid that sets flat on top of it." Hermione looked at the leaf again. "The leaf looks fairly fresh. Do you think it would disintegrate if something flat were laid on it?"

"No. I would ask that you handle it with tweezers and be careful with it, but flattening it should not cause it to crumble."

Hermione smiled at Severus, pleased to be entrusted with the responsibility. She took the vial and put it in her backpack. "I'll be back in a few hours, Professor."

"Very well. I shall be here until around 7 pm," answered Severus.

Hermione headed up the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of the back door. Standing by the bushes, she took out the triple moon pendant and disappeared.

A second later, she reappeared in the transportation room off the lobby of the dormitory. Her stomach churned as it always did after using most forms of magical transportation. She leaned against the wall and took some shallow breaths, her stomach starting to settle.

Leaving the transportation room, Hermione headed to the lift, up to the sixth floor, and down to her room. Opening the door, she noticed Crookshanks was gone. The light above the charmed cat-flap installed in her door showed he was somewhere on the sixth floor. The charmed collar allowed him to go in and out of her room, wander anywhere on the sixth floor, but wouldn't let him leave. She replaced his water, put out more cat kibble, and gave a magical scoop to the litter box.

Going to the desk, Hermione turned on her computer and scanner. She reached up to the bookshelf above the desk and pulled out a loose-leaf manual, flipping through pages until she found the written directions for the Herbology program. Waiting for her computer to boot up, she sat down and read through them.

"Accio tweezers," said Hermione. She held out her hand and the tweezers popped into it. She lifted the lid of the scanner and set it back so it would stay open while she removed the leaf from the vial. She carefully manipulated the leaf onto the scanner and covered it with a sheet of printer paper as suggested in the manual. She gently lowered the lid onto it.

Next, she opened up the scanner program with a couple of clicks of the mouse. "Warm up scanner," she muttered with another mouse click. A minute later, "Scan image," and a humming noise was heard from the scanner. Hermione looked at the image on the monitor. The leaf was clear and she could see amazing detail. "Save image," and more mouse clicks and some typing.

Next, she opened her Internet access and used her password to access the college's programs. "Herbology," she murmured, followed by "Plant identification," and "Obtain image." Hermione sent the file into the program and hit the search button. A large hourglass appeared on the screen as the computer searched thousands of files for a plant with seven-sided leaves.

'It's the hurry up and wait part of the program,' she thought.

Hermione whispered, "Quidditch sucks," and opened one of the drawers of the desk. An assortment of journals with different colored covers was in the drawer. Hermione sorted through them.

"Blue for Harry, yellow for Ron, red for Ginny, brown for Molly," she mumbled. Two journals were left, both with black covers. "Perfect," said Hermione with a chuckle. She put both of the black ones in her book bag.

Hermione's lap was now occupied by a much more contented Crookshanks. He'd wandered in along with Thekla, a black shorthaired cat owned by a Chilean student who lived down the hall. Thekla helped herself to some of Crookshanks' cat food, which Crookshanks oddly didn't seem to mind. His ears were getting thoroughly scratched at the time, which might have been a distraction.

She heard a _ping_ noise from the computer and looked at the screen. A box appeared on the front that said _Match found_. Hermione put Crookshanks down and took the mouse and clicked. The image of the leaf from the scan was on the screen, right next to an image of a small plant with seven-sided leaves. Down at the bottom of the screen, a line appeared which read: _Probability of match: 99.587 percent_.

Hermione put photo paper into the printer and hit the print button on the screen, followed a few commands, and heard a hum from the ink jet printer. About ten minutes later, she had photo quality enlarged prints of both the original leaf and the plant from the Herbology program. Taking out the photo paper, she replaced it with regular and printed out the text describing the plant, its origins, and magical uses.

Hermione looked at the clock. It was noon local time, which made it 6 pm in London. She'd made it with time to spare. She returned the leaf to the vial and put the photos and printout into a file folder that went into her book bag. One quick pat and a promise to return shortly to Crookshanks and Thekla and Hermione was out of the door.

Within minutes, she was throwing up in the backyard of the Order's headquarters. She concluded that two Portkeyings and an Apparition in two hours was too much for her stomach to manage.

At the back door, she gave the password and hurried into the kitchen. Molly and Remus were there. "Is Professor Snape still here?" she asked after greetings were exchanged and she had had a glass of water.

"He's downstairs. Dobby brought some things back from Hogwarts for him. I think he's sorting through cauldrons."

"Good. I'm back in time. I ran an errand for him," and Hermione was heading down the stairs.

Professor Snape was in shirtsleeves. Hermione had never seen him without at least his frock coat. His white shirt was tailored and had a collar that fitted high around his neck and looked uncomfortable, with long sleeves that extended past his wrists. Even in casual dress, Hermione had never seen anyone so buttoned up and covered up in her life. He was stacking cauldrons on a shelf and looked up at her.

"I've got it, Professor," she said excitedly.

"Very good, Miss Granger." He sounded pleased.

Hermione pulled the vial and file folder out of her backpack. She set the vial down and opened the folder. Severus stood next to her. Hermione took out the photo print outs of the leaf and the plant. She handed the enlarged photo of the leaf to Snape.

"This is the scan of the leaf, obviously enlarged," she said.

"The detail in this is astonishing. You did this with your computer and did not have to develop the photograph?" asked Severus.

"Yes. The quality is not quite as good as what you'd get from an actual photograph, but it is close." She handed him the picture from the program. "This is the plant the program identified as having a 99.58 percent chance of being a match. It's a _trifolium repens septemgeminus magicus_."

"So it is a magical type of clover after all," murmured Severus.

"A very rare kind," added Hermione, "found only in New Zealand." Hermione pulled out the sheaf of papers describing the properties of the plant. "Here's the information about the plant. I wanted to make certain I got back here on time, so I didn't take time to read it." Hermione sat down on one of the lab stools.

Severus' considerable nose was already buried in the pages of the report. As nearly as Hermione could tell, he was so focused; she might as well not have been in the room. Preferring not to be sternly lectured for interrupting, Hermione sat quietly and waited while he read.

Severus raised his head and stared off into the distance. "Most interesting," he said quietly.

Hermione waited.

Severus' midnight eyes turned to Hermione. "This is very helpful, Miss Granger." Severus tapped the edges of the papers on the table to straighten them. "According to this report, the species of magical snakes found in New Zealand deliberately crawl through the clover, picking up a light magical charge from the leaves. The snake then returns to its clutch of eggs and rubs itself on them, strengthening the shells. It adds to the protection of the shells from predators until they hatch."

Severus began to pace the length of the table across from Hermione. "I will consider this further. Meanwhile, I expect that you will keep all of this information completely confidential."

"Of course, Professor," answered Hermione.

"Would you have the means to obtain information for me about magical snakes in New Zealand?" Severus inquired.

"I don't know what Avalon's library has on the subject, but I will research it and get the information back to you, sir."

"Very good, Miss Granger. I am impressed with what you were able to do to match the leaf to a plant and the information associated with the identification."

"All I did was input the information. The wizards who did the initial research, wrote it up, and put it into the Internet accessible library really did the work," she demurred.

"Regardless, you saved me many hours of research or waiting for Professor Sprout's return." Severus regarded her carefully. "May I call upon you again for such assistance as the need may arise?"

"I'd be pleased if you would." Hermione was more pleased than she allowed herself to show. "Professor, may I give you something?"

Severus looked cautious and non-committal. Hermione reached into her book bag and drew out the two journals.

"Every year, each Avalon student is expected to work on a project with at least two other students in a program different from their own," Hermione explained. "They usually develop some sort of new product or process which could be useful in the wizarding community. It's part of the cross-disciplinary team building philosophy followed by the college. Last year, some of the foreign students from places where technology is rejected by wizarding society decided to come up with a faster means of communication than trans-Atlantic or Pacific mail."

Hermione held up one of the journals. "They came up with paired secured journals. The two people who are corresponding each have one. Each person puts his own imprint on it by putting his thumb in the center, where you see that Celtic knot. As soon as that happens, only that person can ever open the journal. If anyone else attempts to do so, the journal won't open and if it is magically forced, the journal will self-destruct into ash. What is written into one journal will automatically appear in the other. An added benefit is that only the owners of the journals can read them. If someone is looking over your shoulder attempting to read what is in there, they will see nothing but a blank page. If the journal is closed and the partner writes something in theirs, the Celtic knot will glow to let the owner know there is a new message there. The glow stops when the journal is opened."

"If I can be of help, sir, it would be faster to reach me through a journal than through any kind of post. I brought some for Molly and Arthur and a few others so we could stay in touch." Hermione left the question unasked.

"May I see one, Miss Granger?" Severus took one of the plastic wrapped journals and looked it over carefully. "To create the pairing required Charms to link the journals, Potions and Charms to keep the writing invisible, Potions and Charms to self-destruct, and Arithmancy, Potions, and Charms to bind the journal to the owner. A very interesting exercise in cross-disciplinary magic. I would like to see this work." He looked curiously at Hermione. "Shall we, Miss Granger?"

Hermione kept herself from smiling and pulled the plastic off one of the journals. Severus did the same.

"You place your thumb on the Celtic knot to complete the binding?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she answered. They both placed their thumbs on the knots. Hermione felt a tingle. They opened the journals simultaneously.

Severus ran his long fingers over the paper. It was fine grade writing paper, but there was nothing unusual in how it felt. "Please go ahead and write something, Miss Granger." Severus closed his journal.

Hermione took a pen out of her book bag and began to write. As she did, the Celtic Knot on Snape's journal began to glow. He opened his journal and watched as Hermione's neat handwriting appeared on the paper.

_The five students who invented these paired journals got the highest marks for a project last year. They've sold the process to a wizarding book publisher for enough money to cover their college costs until they graduate, plus a bit of a nest egg besides._

Hermione smiled and handed Snape her pen and closed her journal. The Celtic Knot on her journal glowed and she opened it. The professor's sharply angled handwriting appeared directly beneath her paragraph.

_They appear to have developed a highly marketable product, Miss Granger. They deserve every knut they receive for it._

"Access to new magical technology, Miss Granger, another benefit of your enrollment at Avalon College. Thank you for this gift." Severus lifted the journal and continued to examine it. "I shall have to resist the temptation to dissect it to determine exactly how they made it work."

Hermione laughed. "I can get you some to experiment with, Professor. They had some seconds they were selling where the covers were discolored."

"You will notify me if any issues arise with Draco?" requested Severus.

"I will. I will give you a short synopsis of what I learn about the snakes through the journal and send the full report to you by post."

"This could be very useful. Thank you again for all your help, Miss Granger." Severus gathered the papers and plant photos back into the folder. "I have an engagement this evening and must leave if I am going to arrive on time."

"You're welcome, Professor Snape. I'm going to have dinner here and then head back to Chicago. I'll be back on August 21st. Hopefully, I'll have the information for you well before then."

"That or House points, Miss Granger," he drawled.

"I'll warn Ginny, sir."

Hermione gave Professor Snape a warm smile as he headed for the stairs.

"Be careful, sir."

"Always, Miss Granger."

The last thing she noticed was his hand as it moved up the banister, his long hand with narrow, elegant fingers. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth did a little '0' of surprise. Hermione realized that the hands of her fantasy lover just happened to be attached to the wrists of Professor Snape.

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Author's notes

By the way, the only snakes in New Zealand are magical.

Many thanks to experienced authors Ozratbag2 and Duj for feedback and encouragement. Delays in responding to everyone and getting another chapter uploaded are due to Real Life. Sigh.


	25. Chapter 25

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Bouquets of spring crocuses to Julia and Amrun, who make this a much better story.

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Severus, August 2, 1998

Severus Apparated onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He deliberately chose to materialize far up the lane so he that could have a long and leisurely walk to the house. He needed to think, to review the events of the day in his mind.

All things considered, the day had gone far better than Severus anticipated. He had not looked forward to spending the best part of the day in the company of Hermione Granger but he had needed a chance to talk to her to find out how things were going with Draco. Given the potions laboratory in the cellar would not assemble itself, it had seemed opportune to slay multiple birds with one stone.

Allowing Granger to assist him had been a logical choice; she was competent in potions and well organized. If she could keep her mouth shut, follow directions, and refrain from getting on his nerves, she could save him a good deal of work. Severus was confident that after her experience with seven years of intimidation from a master practitioner of the art, he could maintain control of the situation. Besides, he would be damned first before he would accept any help from Potter or Weasley who were about the only other slave labor available.

He had Minerva to thank for transfiguring an assortment of wooden storage boxes, old shelves, and odds and ends of castoffs into suitable laboratory furnishings. He could have done the work himself, but Minerva could do it in less time, with less energy, and better attention to detail. In return, Severus promised her they would indulge in their cigars, Old Ogden's Bronze Reserve, and role-play next weekend. He looked forward to it; Minerva was hilarious after she got a few drinks under her belt.

The day had started earlier for him than it had for Granger. She explained she was trying to stay reasonably close to her Chicago schedule to minimize adjusting to the time change when she returned. That gave Severus time to get the work started, using Dobby to transport equipment and supplies from his private stores and to collect other items belonging to the Order that had been secreted away at Hogwarts. He was relieved to get those particular items off the premises. He did not care to have them discovered during any sort of inspection by the Board of Governors.

Granger had surprised him several times during the day. The first occasion had been when Severus noticed the change in her appearance. She always dressed very differently from most of her peers. The last time he'd seen Ginny Weasley, she'd worn Muggle jeans, a skin-tight t-shirt, and had about three inches of skin showing between them every time she bent over. He was appalled that Arthur and Molly let her out of the house looking like that.

Granger was much more modest, but could let herself get sloppy. He suspected she often forgot about such things while studying or threw her outfit together at the last minute. Perhaps appearance had always been a low priority for her as it had certainly been for himself.

Severus' precision in his work, even as a student, was very important and he let his personal appearance slide to give every second he could to what he considered to be more important things.

Once he began teaching, he realized he had to make an effort to look professional and older. His solution was to buy quality clothing in the same basic style and color. The white high neck shirt with long sleeves, trousers with buttons at the ankles, and black frock coat with an equally high neck and long sleeves became his uniform, covering the Dark Mark and scars that extended up to his neck. The black fabric was magically treated to resist potions stains and wrinkles.

The overall look, when combined with his black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin was intimidating. Having started as a teacher at the tender age of twenty-two, he was barely older than some of his nineteen-year-old Seventh Year students. Combining the intimidation factor with his naturally sarcastic personality aided his ability to control the classroom.

It amused Severus to think that Muggles called his look _goth_, like they invented it. He was doing _goth_ ten years before the Muggles started copying him.

An important side benefit of his wardrobe was that he never needed to decide what to wear to work. He kept ten sets of clothes, plus his robes for daily wear and two sets of dress robes. When something got ruined or worn out, the house elves had instructions to order a replacement from his tailor. It was a system that worked and required little effort on his part.

After seven years of seeing Granger in her school uniform and student robes, it was a change to see her in college student garb. She had worn jeans with a matching waistcoat and a light blue top with elbow-length sleeves. Seeing her hair pulled back into a snood brought back old memories of his fellow apprentice, Amanda Stuart. She had been in her last two years of apprenticeship when Severus started his.

Amanda was twenty-one when Severus was eighteen. Sharing a love of Potions and research, they had become friends in spite of his youth. Both enjoyed creating new potions or improved variations of old ones. Willing to take advantage of a growing market, they both paid one year of apprentices' fees by making and selling Contraceptus Potion to local apothecaries. Supplying a particular barkeeper with the finest quality wizarding absinthe made from a very old and illegal recipe paid another year's worth.

Arsenius Jigger may have been an exacting Potions Master, but he turned a blind eye to his apprentices skirting the laws in ways he considered relatively harmless.

Upon completing her apprenticeship, Amanda married Everett McKinnon. Severus attended the wedding, hiding the Dark Mark on his wrist beneath his long sleeves. He celebrated alongside her family and friends, even dancing with the happy new bride. Severus hid his dismay at Amanda's choice of a husband. Everett was an Auror, coming from a family of Aurors. Easily one half of the adult McKinnons worked for Magical Law Enforcement.

In 1979, Severus' work for the Dark Lord consisted of making potions at his direction. The close supervision demanded by apprenticeship did not allow Severus the freedom to leave at a moment's notice to participate in Death Eater terrorism. Instead, he prepared a wide variety of potions at Voldemort's command, ranging from recreational hallucinogens to deadly poisons. He explored the Dark Arts under the tutelage of more senior Death Eaters. He was given access to forbidden tomes from Voldemort's own library to search for potions to use in torture and murder.

Severus made a point never to ask how the potions were used.

In the dark days of 1980, Voldemort decided to make an example of the McKinnons. The night he stood in the circle surrounding the Dark Lord, Severus' anxiety grew as he realized what was to come. The Death Eaters were divided into teams to conduct raids on homes all over Britain. The intent was to wipe out the extended McKinnon family all in one night. The raids were intended as a lesson and threat to other Aurors and to flaunt the power of Lord Voldemort in the face of the Ministry.

Severus was no longer exempted from action on the front lines. Voldemort needed every Death Eater to make his plan work. Personally ordered to participate by the Dark Lord, Severus watched in horror from behind his silver mask as Rodolphus Lestrange beat and raped Amanda in front of her husband while Bellatrix tortured Everett. Crucio followed along with other hexes as the Death Eaters watched and laughed. Amanda was four months pregnant when Bellatrix and Rodolphus cast the killing curse on her and Everett.

Severus whispered two silent prayers that night. The first was to end Amanda's suffering. The second was that she never realize that he was one of the men behind a Death Eater's mask.

Voldemort chose this raid deliberately. It was a test of Severus' commitment by forcing him to participate in the murder of his friend and her husband.

By this time, Severus was already completely disillusioned with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Influenced by Lucius Malfoy, he had joined during his Seventh Year with the intent of preserving Pureblood purity and culture and as an expression of his intense desire to study the forbidden magical arts.

Severus found the reality of serving Voldemort to be very different from his expectations. Instead of an organization committed to political action through acts of terror, the Death Eaters had turned into a haven for criminal psychopaths and sadists who wanted to live out violent sexual fantasies. The depths to which Voldemort was willing to sink to pursue power and immortality were limitless and sickening. The Dark Lord would use every tool, every perversion, any Dark spell or potion to achieve his aims.

Severus knew if Rodolphus had not been present on the raid, he would have been ordered by Bellatrix to perform the rape. She delighted in perverting the youngest and newest Death Eaters. Severus was at a critical point when he participated in his friend's murder. He either had to cast aside all conscience and humanity to become what the other Death Eaters were or had to try and get out of the hideous nightmare he had caught himself in. Severus chose the latter and went to Dumbledore.

How strange that almost twenty years later, one of his students would remind him of Amanda, just because the student changed her hair. Not that Severus would ever confuse Granger with Amanda. They did not look alike and their personalities were entirely different. Besides, Severus kept Amanda's memory fresh in his mind as a part of his penance. Whenever he started to resent the strictures of his life, the damage to his body, or his loneliness, the memory would go into a Pensieve and Severus would make himself relive that night in 1980.

No monk with his knotted cords could flagellate himself more painfully than Severus did to himself emotionally by reliving that memory.

Turning his thoughts from the painful past, Severus considered that Granger could become a real asset. She had proved her worth today when she found the means to identify the leaf. He had already spent several hours going page by page through botany texts looking for a match. In two hours, Granger had found the answer that could have taken him weeks to find.

She was eager to help in any way she could. She took direction well, did not complain when he gave her menial work that could have been completed by the house elf, and even showed initiative without stepping over the boundaries appropriate to an apprentice and master.

Severus stopped in his tracks. In a moment of insight, he understood the dynamic. He understood why it felt so right having her there, doing those tasks, having casual conversation and quizzing her as they worked. She behaved exactly as an apprentice should behave. She was respectful, attentive, accepted his instruction, and participated in the give and take of the work and conversation in the manner he would expect from an apprentice. She had slipped into the role as if she were born for it and in doing so, he had moved into the role of master. It felt as natural as his own skin. That is why he had felt oddly comfortable with accepting the journal, something he would not normally have done.

'I shall indeed be damned,' thought Severus in amazement.

At thirty-nine, he had been a Potions Master for eighteen years. Under normal circumstances, a Potions Master with ten years of experience would have taken his first apprentice. At his level of experience, he could have had as many as three apprentices in the last eight years, at least two of them would have completed their apprenticeships.

Of course, as a single male he would never have accepted a single female as an apprentice. That was just begging for trouble and scandal. And his circumstances were anything but normal, which precluded taking any apprentice. A master and apprentice lived virtually in each other's pockets. Severus could not have hidden his roles as a Death Eater or an Order member from an apprentice. His unexplained last minute disappearances combined with returning from audiences with Voldemort beaten, bloodied, and shaking from Crucio could not be kept secret from someone working so closely with him. However, this was a unique circumstance.

Granger was officially getting her training at Avalon College. She was an Order member who already knew of his role as a double agent. Being eager to serve the Order and having an intense desire to learn everything in the universe, especially about Potions, Granger could offer Severus the best of both worlds. Those periods of time when she returned home to the Weasleys, Severus could avail himself of her services as if she were his apprentice. In exchange for supplementing her college education with real-life experience, he could give her the menial jobs, the tedious forms of research (which she might be able to do with her computer), and save himself hours of labor.

He could even have her brew routine Potions for Hogwarts infirmary. That alone could save him weeks of work every summer and over the winter holidays. She could do it at the lab at the headquarters and would probably thank him profusely for the opportunity. With any luck, this could happen for the next six years. And he would not have to put up with her all the time. Granted, not once today did she get on his nerves, but over time it would inevitably happen. When he had enough of her, he could just ship her back to Chicago. There would be no contract, no obligation on his part.

Not that he would be unfair. He would ensure she had opportunities to expand her skills and learn from his years of experience. He might even learn some things from her, given her training at the college. With a brilliant student like Granger, he believed he could enjoy teaching one-to-one without the interference of House rivalries and poorly chosen friends. The desire to teach another with the potential to excel in Potions development was simply a natural evolution in his professional career.

'Miss Granger,' thought Severus, 'Have I got a proposition for you.'

Severus approached the door of Malfoy Manor with a grin that would make the Cheshire cat envious. Today had been very productive, indeed. Now he needed to refocus on the serious business at hand, which involved an excellent dinner, sophisticated conversation, and an Occlumency lesson for afters.

Pudding escorted Severus to the solarium. The elves had cast the necessary cooling spells to keep the breeze flowing in through the tall windows at a comfortable temperature. Narcissa was her usual lovely self, dressed in a cream colored Grecian gown. Her hair was pulled up with golden cords; allowing tendrils to flow lose in the classic Grecian style. She rose from the wicker settee to greet Severus. He took her hands in his and bowed over them, kissing her left hand.

"Dear Severus, I am so glad you were able to join us tonight." Narcissa directed Severus to sit on the white wicker chair next to the settee. Severus made himself comfortable.

"The pleasure is always mine, Narcissa. There is nowhere I feel more at home than at your table." There was genuine warmth in his voice. "Where are Lucius and Draco?"

"They should be here shortly. They went for a walk down to the lake. I believe they were having a father and son talk."

"Do not try to tell me Lucius has finally decided to explain the birds and the bees," Severus drawled.

"Dear Merlin," Narcissa gave a graceful shake to her head, tendrils bobbing. "Lucius assured me they had that conversation when Draco was twelve. I am hoping they are having a conversation about Draco's use of the credit card we gave him when he left for Avalon."

"Ah. The lad is giving into the temptations of the big city?"

"He has developed a passion for Muggle electronic devices," declared Narcissa, "which he claims is all in the name of research. You would not believe how many of these things he calls CDs and videos he has bought, for purpose of research. Plus, he has bought virtually a whole new wardrobe in the name of research. He has been taking his new friends out to dinner quite a lot, for the sake of research. Now, he wants to buy a car for more research."

"This is only after three weeks in the United States and he has four years to go. I keep telling myself he cannot possibly keep up this pace of spending. My dear son is going to turn us into paupers for the sake of his research," Narcissa laughed.

Severus smiled. "It does my heart good to hear Draco is living up to his heritage as a Malfoy. I seem to remember some wildly extravagant spending by his father in his youth. If I had any weight on me at all at eighteen, it was because Lucius kept me well fed."

"You have the most wonderful metabolism, Severus. It is most unfair to give such a thing to a man when it is we ladies who need it. I continually fight to keep weight off and here we are trying to stuff you silly to keep it on. Speaking of which, I believe Pudding has some appetizers here for you." Narcissa waved the elf over who was carrying a tray with artfully arranged cheeses, sausage, vegetables, prawns, crackers, and Severus' favorite horseradish sauce. The tray was placed before him.

"Can I tempt you with a Long Island ice tea?" asked Narcissa, "It's quite lovely during warm weather."

"As long as it is not one of those prissy teas flavored with guava, peach, or some such absurd thing."

"I promise you, it is nothing like that," replied Narcissa with a mischievous smile. "Last month, Isadora Nott hosted our book discussion club. Our special guest was an American author from New York who writes some of the most enticing fiction. She introduced us to this very enjoyable refreshment. Pudding, would you bring Long Island ice tea for Master Snape and myself? You might as well bring us a jug and some extra glasses. Lucius quite enjoys it."

Severus helped himself to a plate of appetizers, especially of the prawns and sauce. By the time he sampled the first bite, Pudding was back with the jug of Long Island ice tea, a bucket of ice, and four glasses. Severus' sensitive nose picked up on a rather unexpected blend of scents. He gave another sniff.

"Gentle Narcissa, sister of my heart, I do not detect even one iota of tea in this concoction," said Severus suspiciously.

"Dearest Severus, brother of my soul, allow me to pour you a libation. Then you may regale me with your analysis of the ingredients." Narcissa selected a crystal glass and using silver tongs, added three clear ice cubes from the cut crystal ice bucket. She filled the glass to the brim with the liquid from the jug and handed it to Severus.

Severus took the glass and brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. He took a careful sip of the icy concoction, rolling the drink on his tongue before allowing it to burn its way down his throat. He took another sip, contemplated for a moment and offered his analysis.

"I detect gin, tequila, rum, and vodka." Severus took another sip. "I believe the four liquors to be in equal proportion," followed by another sip, "And a squirt of fresh lemon," taking a good sized swallow, "With a splash of a Muggle carbonated cola drink I recall from my youth." Another swig followed. "Yes, I stand by my analysis."

He lifted the glass and examined it. "The cola is more for color than anything else. I must congratulate you Narcissa. This drink is a triumph. By the time I finish this glass, my lips will be numb, my brain fuzzy, my judgment impaired, and I shall be quite unable to Apparate. I will be seeking a hangover potion in the morning."

"Excellent! My plan has worked," laughed Narcissa triumphantly.

The two heard the door to the solarium open and saw Lucius stroll in, followed by Draco. Severus rose, a bit unsteady as the quantity of alcohol he had consumed in the last few minutes traveled directly to his brain.

Lucius took a look at Severus, the jug, the glass, and his wife and laughed. He walked to Narcissa and kissed her cheek.

"My love, you have found another victim, have you not?"

"Ah, but he walked so willingly into my trap, snookums."

Lucius, Severus, and Draco looked at Narcissa and said in remarkable unison, "Snookums?"

The four burst into laughter.

"Narcissa, after all these years, you still have the capacity to surprise me," said Lucius, seating himself beside his wife, his arm around her shoulders.

"Good. I'll not have you taking me for granted," she sighed, snuggling into her husband's shoulder.

Draco went to the table and poured two more glasses, handing one to his father.

"Be careful Draco," suggested Severus, "There's enough alcohol in that drink to flatten an acromantula. And you have to get back to the college tonight and be up and functioning in the morning."

"Fortunately, my Potions instructor at Hogwarts had his advanced class prepare Sober-Up and Hangover Potions during our last week before finishing school. The astute fellow seemed to think we might need them," drawled Draco.

"Smart fellow, that Potions instructor," added Lucius, helping himself to a plate and appetizers.

"Apparently not as smart as he would like to be allowing your wife to hoodwink him into drinking half a glass of this tasty brain killing brew," muttered Severus, quite cheerfully.

"Then eat up, Severus. It cannot hurt to dilute the effect by getting some food into your stomach."

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It was considerably later before they got around to the serious conversation. All agreed the Occlumency lesson was out of the question, given the half-buzzed condition they were in. Narcissa and Lucius excused themselves to get some fresh air, tactfully giving Severus time alone with Draco.

"How are things going with you and Miss Granger, Draco?" asked Severus.

"Surprisingly well, sir," he replied, "Without those two idiots around all the time, she's a decent sort. I think she struggled a bit at first without her friends, but I introduced her around and she's done better. I think she's just shy."

Draco took another swig of his Long Island ice tea. "Granger's got the technology down, though. I struggled with that at first, but she really was helpful." He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Sir, I think the Dark Lord has it all wrong about her. She's not doing Potter and Weasley. She wasn't dating anyone at Hogwarts and she's not chasing men around at Avalon. She's serious and really is a bookworm. Just a bookworm with bad taste in friends."

"It is entirely possible you are correct about Miss Granger, but you must never indicate in any way that you disagree with the Dark Lord's assessment of her," counseled Severus.

"Sir, now that he knows Hermione is there, is he going to hurt her or make me hurt her?"

"I do not believe so. Right now, he wants to know if Potter and Weasley visit. He believes the two of them are using her for sex. If they do not visit her, he will assume her hold on them has diminished. She will be of little interest to him."

Draco looked relieved.

"I know she's Muggleborn. I know she's supposed to be trash." Draco sounded confused. "She just isn't like that. I know it's only been three weeks and it should be too soon for me to be coming to any conclusions about her beyond my seven years of experience with her at Hogwarts."

"She is smart and kind," Draco paused, "To be honest, she got in with Anita Schuler right away. They share a bathroom, for Merlin's sake. She could have frozen me out, said all kinds of nasty things about me. Instead, she invites me to join the two of them for pizza. After all the rotten things I've said to her, said about her, and done to her…."

He looked at Severus with dismay. "You don't think she fancies me, do you?"

It took every ounce of self-control Severus could muster to keep from bursting out laughing, especially given his current blood alcohol level. He could only assume Draco was saying such things because of his own state of intoxication. Severus considered his response very carefully.

"I would wait before coming to a conclusion about that. If she does harbor an interest in you, she will behave in ways that will communicate it. She's a Gryffindor. They cannot act to save their lives."

"I hope she doesn't." Draco was struggling for the right words. "If she did, the Dark Lord could find it in my head and he'd want to use it in some way."

"Draco, the best defense against that is for you to keep from being interested in her."

"I'm interested in Anita. The Dark Lord would be in favor of that, given who her father is."

"Then pursue that interest, Draco. Learn what you can about her father's business and plans for the future." Severus leaned back. "It is getting late and you need to get that Sober-Up and go back to Chicago. When will you be back next?"

"For Mother's birthday. Then I go back for a few more days and finish computer class. I'll have a week off and then the regular term will start."

"Then we will meet next time you come back and a few times during the week before your term begins. We need to practice Occlumency without being under the influence of gin, vodka, tequila, and rum."

"I will sir. I may have been completely irresponsible tonight, but I understand how important it is."

"Then it is time for both of us to return to our respective dwellings. Shall we go and see your parents and then prepare to depart?"

"Severus?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"If I had an uncle in this life, I'd pick you."

"You are drunk, Draco."

"I'm not saying anything I haven't thought when I was sober. I just should have said it when I was sober."

"In that case, thank you. I think of you as a nephew. And we need to stop this or we will embarrass ourselves. I cannot abide soppy drunks and would be forced to disown my new nephew and myself. Let us go find your parents."

"May I call you Uncle Severus?"

"No, you may not."

Severus rose, putting his arm around his honorary nephew's shoulder in affection as well as to steady himself. The two men strolled rather unevenly to the door into the garden.

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Thank you to all my reviewers: Latinachikita, Doodles Divine, Aldara, Rinny08, Joani-the-Unique-Being, PolskaDepresia, Evil Mastermind 666, Phoenix Flight, Merrymagic, Lady Rhian, Severus-Fan, Siren34, Vennea, Jinxed & Cursed, Snapedreamer, Princess Fiona, and Dagworth.

On-going thanks to Duj and Ozratbag2, two wonderful writers who have offered comments and support.


	26. Chapter 26

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

As always, thank you to Julia for patiently pointing out for the umpteenth time that the Queen's English does not include the word "gotten". Her comments are invaluable.

Thank you to Amrun for the lessons in grammar and punctuation. It makes everything so much more readible.

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Hermione, August 20, 1998

Draco picked up his tray, selected a table by the window and sat down. Hermione followed after him. They both looked with dismay at the rather dry looking pork chops, instant mashed potatoes and gravy, and canned string beans.

"At least they can't ruin the prepackaged salad and the gelatin with fruit cocktail in it,"said Hermione, looking at her meal with dismay, "Though it's not for lack of trying."

"I know freshmen have to live in the student residence, but I am giving very serious thought to getting an apartment next year,"muttered Draco. "I could get one of the house elves to come from home. Unless this food kills me this year and I never get the chance."

"We'll be wasted away to nothing by then." Hermione looked around the room at the other students attending summer school. "Anita said the regular service elves are off for the summer and they are using fill-ins. Maybe the food will be a lot better in the autumn. If not, I don't see how the students handle eating like this year after year?"

"They don't. I'll bet they're cloning in the advanced classes and replacing all of us with duplicates, like in the Stepford Wives."

Hermione thought Draco was getting rather obsessed with watching Muggle science fiction movies.

"At least Anita is getting a decent meal tonight."

"And didn't invite us," grumbled Draco.

"I don't think you two are at the _meet the parents_ stage quite yet." Hermione looked at Draco with amusement.

Draco looked up at Hermione and blushed. Hermione's fork paused in mid-air.

"Spill it, Draco."

"So, Anita and I have gone out on a few dates. That's all it's been," said Draco.

"Something's bothering you. I can tell."

"She said something to me today….," Draco blushed again. "I can't talk to you about this, for Merlin's sake."

"Look, if you two are taking your relationship to the next level all I ask is that you cast silencing charms and don't knock the books off the shelves above my bed. I'm in the next room and there are some things I really don't need to know. If you use the bathroom, please lock my door so I don't walk in on you."

"It's not that. Well, it's sort of that." Draco was squirming. "This morning in class when we were working on graphs and tables, Anita was showing me how to change the graph to a pie chart." Draco leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. "She asked me if I had a _floppy dick_."

Hermione stopped herself from spitting her salad all over Draco as she struggled to maintain her composure.

She really did not want to hurt Draco's feelings. Hermione reached to her backpack to a special flap, pulled it open and took out a computer diskette. She held it out to Draco and did her level best to keep a straight face.

"She was asking you if you had one of these data storage disks. They're called diskettes, but can also be called a _floppy disk_."

Draco went from red in the face to pale. He reached across the table and took it. "She was asking if I had a diskette?" He leaned back with a look of immense relief. "I completely misunderstood. I thought she was impugning my virility or was asking if I was a poofter."

"I don't think your sexual orientation has ever been in question, Draco."

Draco's shoulders started to shake. He put his hands over his face and began to laugh.

Hermione, seeing Draco losing it, started to chuckle. In moments, Draco was doubled over, laughing so hard heads turned in his general direction, as the other students tried to figure out what was so funny. Hermione was laughing and had tears pouring down her face.

"You, you… absolutely cannot (cough), absolutely cannot tell anybody about this." Draco could barely get the words out from laughing so hard.

"Wand oath, Draco," choked out Hermione, drying her face on a paper napkin.

"Anita must be wondering why I was a stuttering fool the rest of the lesson. I absolutely could not believe she asked me such a thing." Draco shook his head. "I thought she was being really forward. I've stewed about this all day, talk about being a flaming idiot."

"No you're not. You just don't know the language, yet, especially the slang. We're living in a world that's half wizard and half Muggle in a foreign country and there's a lot to learn that's totally new." Hermione looked down at her dinner and frowned. "You know, this is really awful. What do you say we take a walk, we'll find somewhere to get a decent meal and this time it's my treat."

"Granger, that's the best offer I've had all day. Let's abandon this muck."

The two got up and put their trays on the conveyor belt to the kitchen. In short order, Draco and Hermione headed down the street. At 6:30 pm, traffic was lighter but there were plenty of pedestrians. Hermione was grateful for the cool breeze coming off of Lake Michigan. Chicago was warmer in the summer than London.

"Have you got plans this weekend?" she asked Draco.

"I'm going home. It's my mother's birthday Saturday and we're having a family thing." Draco looked at Hermione. She was keeping her face passive and he suddenly realized the significance of what he'd said. Draco reached over and touched Hermione's arm and stopped her. She kept looking straight ahead.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me to say that."

Hermione was silent for a moment. She looked down at her shoes and back up at Draco. "Life goes on and mothers have birthdays. I have to get used to hearing people talk about things like that. I don't want everyone to think they have to be careful of everything they say around me. Please don't feel like you have to apologize."

Draco nodded and the two began walking again. "You don't have to tell me anything, but where do you stay when you go back to England? No, wait," said Draco emphatically. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

"It's not a secret, Draco. I stay with the Weasleys," said Hermione. "Molly and Arthur Weasley have been so good to me since Mum and Dad died. They helped me clear out the house so it could be sold; get the will settled and all that. Plus, I've gone from being an only child to having all the big brothers a girl could ever need."

Draco spotted a Chinese restaurant up the street. "Shall we get some Chinese food? At least they know what a fresh vegetable looks like."

"Good idea," said Hermione. The two sped up their pace now that they had a destination in mind. They reached the restaurant and Draco opened the door for Hermione. In short order, they were at a table with tea and plates of food from the buffet.

Draco took a bite of the chicken with broccoli and got a look of absolute bliss on his face. "Isn't it wonderful to eat a vegetable that hasn't been dead for six months?"

Hermione looked at her plate and speared a stir-fried carrot and a bit of shrimp. "They understand the concept of crisp and there's not a vegetable here that's been boiled."

The two chewed in contentment.

Hermione considered carefully if the topic she wanted to bring up was safe for her to discuss with Draco. From what Professor Snape had told her, Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, but one who didn't want his son to go in that direction. Hermione couldn't decide if that meant Lucius was a reluctant Death Eater or fully loyal to Voldemort, but wanted his son safe.

"Draco?"

He looked up from his dinner and gave Hermione an expectant look.

"What's it like being in Pureblood high society? Gryffindor didn't really have anybody who fell into that category and back at Hogwarts, I would never have dared to ask. I know what life is like for a family like the Weasleys and the more middle class wizarding families like Lavender Brown's, but how do the rich and famous folks live? I know I'm rambling and I hope it doesn't make you mad that I've asked and if it did, I apologize and you don't have to say anything…"

"Slow down, Hermione. Take a breath." Draco looked at Hermione and considered for a moment if her question was inappropriate and how he felt about being asked. A few months ago, he would have been offended and given her a dressing down she'd never forget. Two months past Hogwarts, he realized Hermione was just insatiably curious about all things wizarding.

As a Muggleborn, she would never have the opportunity to interact in a social setting with an upper class Pureblood family. She'd never be considered good enough, no matter how smart, accomplished, or powerful a witch she might be. She was a first generation immigrant into the wizarding world. Immigrants didn't socialize with royalty and the Malfoys were the closest thing to royalty the wizarding world had. Somehow, that realization disappointed Draco. He could be friendly with Hermione, but she would never be welcome in his home.

"I'm not offended," mused Draco, "Back at Hogwarts, it would have been different. But, while we were at Hogwarts, we would never have had dinner together, let alone you paying for it. We would never have studied together or gone shopping or watched Star Wars or Die Hard or listened to Celine Dion or Nine Inch Nails. It is very different here to what I expected. I guess there are possibilities I never imagined. You know, Granger, you're not half bad."

Hermione gave Draco a smile that lit up her whole face. She'd never anticipated that a month of spending time with Draco Malfoy would have given her a new friend. If Professor Snape hadn't told her that Draco was not a Death Eater and had no intentions of becoming one, Hermione would never have knocked on his door that first evening. Away from Hogwarts, they had an opportunity to interact without the other Slytherins watching. Away from Hogwarts, they could be friends of a sort.

"You're not what I expected either, Draco." Hermione shifted and pushed her half finished plate to the side. "We've been getting along really well now that we're not at Hogwarts. I know that the four Houses are one of the great traditions of Hogwarts, but I have to wonder if it just adds to the divisiveness in British wizarding society?"

"You know if we try to solve the problems of wizarding Britain tonight, we'll be here till morning and not come up with a single solution," he teased. "What would you like to know?"

"Where did you go to school before you went to Hogwarts?"

"I was privately tutored. Professor Vector was appointed Arithmancy Professor at Hogwarts after Professor Beatrice Angulo retired. Madame Angulo is my grandfather's second cousin and after she retired, mother hired her to teach me. She lived at the manor and is still very much like a grandmother to me. After I went to Hogwarts, she retired from teaching altogether and now lives in a cottage in the grounds. I see her whenever I'm home. It's common in families to hire a widowed or unmarried family member to tutor the children of the house. It's a way to look after our witches who are elderly or on their own without a husband or much other family."

"It sounds like a governess, much like well-to-do Muggle families in the eighteen hundreds would have hired to provide basic education and supervision for their children." Hermione was fascinated. "Did you spend most of your days being tutored?"

"Being the only student, I had the teacher's full attention," Draco admitted. "It took some getting used to when I went to Hogwarts, having twenty-five other people in the class. As a general rule, I spent the mornings in classes with Madame Angulo. We'd have lunch and then I was expected to read or do homework for two more hours. Usually by mid-afternoon, I was done."

"Did you have special classes on the social graces?" Hermione nibbled on a spring roll.

"Absolutely mandatory for every upper class Pureblood family," grumbled Draco. "I had classes in manners, polite conversation, table etiquette, genealogy, dancing, art appreciation, music appreciation, horseback riding, and how to tie a cravat. Sometimes a special tutor was hired and for some things, like dancing, I went to a class with other children."

"You went to charm school," teased Hermione.

"It worked, didn't it?" drawled Draco.

Hermione burst into laughter and Draco joined in.

"Where do you go on holiday?"

"We've traveled a lot. I've been all over Europe visiting museums, cathedrals, and ruins. We went to Egypt a few years ago to see the pyramids and the sphinx. The museums there are really amazing. We went to see Mayan ruins in South America. Chachoben and Chichen Itza had some really powerful wizard kings in their history."

Draco leaned back and stirred his tea. "Purebloods may not appreciate modern Muggle society, but back in ancient times, wizards and Muggles lived side-by-side. Wizards were recognized as superior, in some cases like gods or prophets. So we like museums and ancient places, it goes with our appreciation of history."

"I've been to Greece, Rome, and Paris. I loved the ancient sites and I could spend weeks going through the museums. Did you go to Pompeii?"

"I went there about three years ago. What did you think of the frescos?"

"It's amazing how the ash preserved so much while it killed so many. The art is fabulous, but it was the petrified bodies that fascinated me. It was so morbid to think how one minute people were going about their lives and the next…." Hermione turned pale.

Draco saw Hermione freeze as her vision turned inward. He reached across the table and grasped her hand.

"Hermione, stop it. Look at me."

Hermione looked up, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry Draco. I do all right for weeks and then all of a sudden something will remind me and I start to lose it." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm just tired. It's worse when I'm tired." There were so many things running through her mind. Things she wanted to say and couldn't say because it was Draco. She couldn't tell him about nightmares, guilt, loneliness, and horribly morbid thoughts that plagued her.

"Do the Weasleys take good care of you?"

"They do. Mrs. Weasley will feed me till bursting. Of course Charlie, Bill, and Percy won't be there, but George and Fred will come by and tease back and forth until it hurts to laugh anymore. I'll see Ginny and Ron." Hermione put on her brave face.

Draco realized the mood of easy camaraderie was broken. Both of them had remembered who they were and the distance between them caused by birth and the prejudices of the society of which they were both a part. Death Eaters had murdered Hermione's parents. Draco could not even offer her any assurance that his own father had not been the one to cast the Avada Kedavra.

"I'm full, Hermione. How about you?" asked Draco.

"Yes. I've had enough. Shall we head back to the residence hall?"

Hermione and Draco walked back to St. Germain Hall. Their conversation focused on the safe subjects again, complaining about cafeteria food, Muggle music, and computer class. They parted company at Hermione's door.

"See you at breakfast, Draco."

"At least they don't screw up the scrambled eggs," he teased.

"But the toast is awful. It's soggy," grumbled Hermione, "Toast should never be pre-buttered."

"Hermione, will you be all right tonight?" asked Draco, concerned.

"I think so. I'll go to bed and get to sleep early," replied Hermione with a reassuring tone that was not entirely genuine.

"If you need anything…."

"Thanks Draco." Hermione opened the door and Draco headed down the hallway. Hermione closed the door and warded it behind her. Only Crookshanks could get in or out through the cat door. She tossed her backpack onto the chair and flopped down on the daybed. She lay her head on the pillow and let the sobs come.

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An hour later, Hermione lay on the daybed curled up against the pile of pillows. Crookshanks sat contentedly on her lap, Hermione stroking his fur.

At least Crookshanks was content. There were times when Hermione felt like she was faking everything. It seemed like she was going through motions, pretending to be a college student, pretending to be interested in other people, pretending to plan for the future, faking life in general. She was lonely and homesick, and empty.

The nightmares had come back this week and Hermione knew why. Her father's birthday was last Monday and he would have been seventy-three. If life had been right, the three of them would have gone out to dinner at Dad's favorite restaurant. He would have had the prime rib, Mum would have had the lobster tail, and Hermione would have had the salmon.

They'd have talked about her parent's dental practice and whether or not Dad was ready to retire, if they would take a trip to Italy during Christmas holiday, what classes Hermione would take in the autumn. Dad would open his presents. From Mum, it was usually tickets to a concert or a play. From Hermione, it was usually music CDs or videos of musicals. He loved big band music, oldies, and show tunes.

It would have been normal. Normal for Hermione involved having a family and now she had none. Yes, she had the Weasleys and they'd been wonderful to her. It wasn't the same. There was real affection and the love you have for your friends, but it wasn't the same kind of love. Crookshanks meowed loudly when she scooped him up in a fierce hug.

"Thank Goddess you're half kneazle, Crooks," she whispered into his fur, "Don't you dare die on me anytime in the next decade or two."

Having had quite enough of being squeezed, Crooks wriggled his way out of Hermione's arms and leaped to the floor. He padded his way over to his water dish, lapped a bit at the bubbling perpetual fountain, and jumped up onto his window seat, settling in for a look out the window.

It wasn't Draco's fault. Things had been going fine and she actually enjoyed being with him, but when he talked about going home for his mother's birthday, it brought the pain back.

It will be better tomorrow, Hermione told herself. She'd be back at the Weasleys and things wouldn't feel so foreign. Harry and Ron would be there if they were off duty. She'd smell Molly's homemade bread and her appetite would return. Arthur would ask her about life in America. She'd go to headquarters and maybe Minerva or the Headmaster would be there. She'd see Remus and Professor Snape. Things would seem much more normal then.

After that, it would only be a little over two weeks before computer class was finished and she'd be back at the Burrow for a week before the start of the autumn term. Then, she'd be too busy with classes to mope.

Hermione smiled. The last three Saturdays had been spent taking proficiency tests for entry-level college classes. She'd tested out of English composition and the entry-level classes for Arithmancy, Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. She'd start college as a second semester freshman. Perhaps Professor Snape would be impressed with that Hermione snorted at the thought. She was sure Remus would be impressed if she could figure out a way to tell him that wouldn't sound like bragging.

Professor Snape. Hermione hoped he'd found the information she'd sent him useful. Using the journal, she had told him some rather surprising things she'd learned about New Zealand's snakes. For one thing, there were no non-magical snakes in New Zealand. Being an island located off Australia in the Pacific Ocean had done fascinating things with evolution. Hermione spent the best part of an evening reading about it once she started researching the subject.

Prehistoric animals had migrated across land and swum between islands, eventually making it to New Zealand, which seemed to be at the evolutionary edge of the earth. Isolated from the rest of the world, the gene pool had narrowed and allowed for remarkable kinds of evolution and strange species that existed nowhere else. Non-magical snakes never made it to New Zealand, but two magical species did.

_Ophites obscuratio magicus_ was a tiny garden type snake that lived on insects. It was a shy species making its home in grassy land where it could hide from predators in the undergrowth. It had the magical capability of hiding by changing its skin to match its surroundings in perfect camouflage. The snake was virtually impossible to find because of its size and ability to blend in.

The second, _vipera praedatorius cyanos magicus_, was larger, up to two feet long. This snake was a predator and lived on small rodents and bird eggs, climbing into trees to get to them. It was able to hypnotize live prey through a sort of snakey Imperius.

New Zealand had a small wizarding community, only about a thousand people in a population of three and a half million. It was a mixed group with descendents of both the Maori, who had settled the islands in about 800 AD and of more recent European settlers.

They found uses for both kinds of snakes. The _ophites obscuratio magicus_ was not very useful since it took quite an accumulation of them to create a potion that allowed a wizard to camouflage himself in the same manner as the snake. The snakes simply didn't reproduce well enough in captivity and were too hard to catch in the wild.

The _vipera praedatorius cyanos magicus_ was a different matter. The eyes were used to create a potion that sapped the will of a victim. Hermione was rather disgusted to learn that the most common use by wizards was on unwilling women in a tribal custom involving bride stealing. A second use was to include the snake's blood in a potion used to strengthen heart muscle.

Hermione could only speculate on why Professor Snape needed the information. The seven-sided leaf had turned out to be a species of magical clover found only in New Zealand. Both kinds of magical snakes slithered through it to get a magical charge which could be transferred to a clutch of eggs, toughening the shell and protecting their progeny from predators.

Where the Professor had come up with the leaf was a mystery, but Hermione was willing to bet it had something to do with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Being a spy, he had his own reasons for doing things the way he did and she'd likely never know how he'd aquired a leaf from a plant native to New Zealand.

Having done what he asked, Hermione had written the information she'd found into the journal and received an answer from him the next day, thanking her for doing the research but not explaining how he would use the information. Photocopies of the documentation she'd found had gone out in the post to him the same day, including photos of the snakes. There was a service that Portkeyed wizarding post to offices in foreign countries and then owled it on from there.

Her packet for Professor Snape was sent via Minerva, along with a long chatty letter for Minerva and a box of chai tea she'd found in a coffee shop and thought her former Head of House would enjoy. Professor Snape had responded a few days later to let her know it had arrived. He remarked in his note that he, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster had tried the chai tea. The Headmaster and the Head of Gryffindor had enjoyed it, but he thought all that milk made the tea a rather sissy sort of drink, though he appreciated the flavor of the cardamom and cinnamon. Hermione had burst out laughing when she saw the word sissy in Professor Snape's sharply angled handwriting.

She thought back to the last time she'd seen him, walking up the cellar stairs with his hand resting on the rail. She'd shocked the hell out of herself when she realized the hands she'd been dreaming about in a couple of years' worth of sexual fantasies were Professor Snape's.

Hermione was very grateful at the time that he'd left so she didn't have to try and hide her reaction. There wasn't much you could keep from him and she knew he was right when he said she was a poor actress. Her startled reaction would have been impossible to hide, the Professor would have questioned her, Hermione would have lied, he would have figured it out, and it would have all gone downhill from there. If the truth came out, there was no possible outcome other than the Professor being very angry and offended and Hermione being mortified.

With Professor Snape safely out of the cellar, Hermione had time to think things through. She realized that there really wasn't anything inherently wrong with fantasizing about Severus Snape's hands. She hadn't realized when she started that they were his hands. She just thought long narrow hands with long fingers were sexy, especially when they moved with the kind of hypnotic grace Professor Snape typified.

Hermione realized that she could probably just sit and stare at his hands as he worked and get rather excited about it. Which meant she'd better not let herself look at them too hard. It wasn't as if she was fantasizing about all of him, though his being tall didn't hurt and there was that voice thing he had going.

Hermione shook herself. Do not even start down that path, she told herself. She had to keep things separate. She could work with Professor Snape, be around him, and keep him distinct from her fantasy. Besides, this autumn she'd have a chance at meeting someone real, someone she could do the kinds of things with that she'd imagined doing with her fantasy lover. Everything she'd done so far was just a dress rehearsal for the real wizard.

Tomorrow would be better, Hermione decided. She'd be back at the Burrow with people who at least cared about her. On Saturday, she'd visit the cemetery and talk to her parents. After that, she'd go to headquarters for the Order meeting and see her friends. Tomorrow would definitely be better.

She held tight to that thought.

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Thank you for your encouragement and reviews: Princess Fiona, Megan Consoer, Phoenix Flight, Doodles Divine, Evil Mastermind 666, Rinny 08, Latinachikita, Elizabeth Kowols (who looks great in a Death Eater costume), More Secrets, Joani-the-unique-being, Siren 34, Lady Rhian, Duj, Snapedreamer, Meghan, Severus Fan, and Droxy.


	27. Chapter 27

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia for Brit-picking and especially the information on cemetery art in England. Not surprising, it varies from what we find in the Midwestern United States. Thank you again to Amrun for lessons on grammar and punctuation!

This chapter includes a letter, which is formatted to work with the software used here. I do believe wizards would probably use a traditional letter format, but I could not reproduce it and have it resemble a letter so I used a memo format instead.

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Hermione and Severus,

August 22, 1998, Part One

"Molly, I'm going to go ahead to headquarters and meet up with Harry and Ron."

Molly was sitting in her rocking chair in the parlor with a cup of tea and Crookshanks on her lap. Crooks was one happy half-kneazle now that he'd had a run around the garden, chased some gnomes, and persuaded Molly to sneak him a bit of the tuna before it all went into the tuna salad sandwiches at lunch.

"You go right ahead, dear. Arthur and I will be there about dinnertime. We're looking forward to trying the shrimp fried rice you told us about. Are you sure you have everything you need?" asked Molly.

"I gave Harry the list of ingredients last week when I wrote him. He promised he'd have everything I needed. I'll see you later, then."

Hermione took the path around the garden. The flowers and the vegetables were a bit past their prime, but there were still plenty of tomatoes and green beans to pick. Outside of the household wards, Hermione Apparated to her first destination, the alley behind a flower shop near her old home. The flowers she'd ordered were ready. She took the four small bouquets back into the alley and disappeared to her second destination.

Hermione's parents were buried in a cemetery out in the country. Her father's family was buried there, going back to his great-great grandparents. Her parents and grandparents had been buried in the newer section. The oldest section went back to the seventeen hundreds, with limestone headstones that were virtually unreadable after centuries of wind, rain and accumulated lichen-growth. Wandering through the cemetery, the 19th century section revealed obelisks and statues of angels, along with tombstones carved with ivy, upward pointing fingers, and Bibles. Family mausoleums were scattered throughout the area, most with doors long sealed as survivors died off. Moving to a section occupied by burials from the nineteen hundreds, granite monuments in uniform sizes were more common.

Hermione walked down a familiar path as she came to the area where her father's parents were buried. Since the time of her grandparents' deaths, it had become a regular practice for her and Dad to come and visit on a Sunday afternoon three or four times a year. She'd always brought flowers. Now she had to bring twice as many.

Hermione stopped first at Albert and Marion Granger's graves, leaving two of the bouquets she'd brought. Reaching into her backpack, she took out two silk flower wreaths she had purchased in Chicago and Reducioed for travel. Hermione enlarged them and placed them against the gravestones. When the fresh flowers were dead, the silk wreaths would still be there. Using her wand, Hermione tidied up the graves and cleaned the headstones.

The two new graves were a few yards to the north. Hermione walked slowly, unshed tears making it difficult to see. She stood before the graves of David and Jane Granger. The polished granite grave stones were there, the inscriptions just as she had ordered: _Beloved Mother_ and _Beloved Father_. Beneath that inscription were their names, dates of birth and death, and the date of their wedding with an inscription of two overlapping wedding rings. So few words and symbols to describe two lives. Hermione wondered what passers by would think when they saw the matching dates of death.

At least they were together. Mum and Dad were always together.

The grass on the graves was neatly trimmed, but still a bit sparse. Hermione reached into the backpack and took out a small bag of grass seed. Taking out a handful, she scattered it over the two graves. Next, she took out a plastic bottle of water. A few words and wand waves and the bottomless bottle sprayed the grass with an even coat of water. The grass sprouted, grew, and filled in the sparse places. The grass was now thick and lush on the two graves. Hermione took the bottle to the markers and wiped them clean with a rag she'd brought with. She laid the roses from the flower shop against the headstones, enlarged the silk wreaths and put them in place.

Hermione sat beside the graves.

"Mum? Dad?" Hermione sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with a handkerchief with a white _S_ in the corner.

"I know you aren't really here. I mean the part that matters is over there on the other side of the veil. But this is the closest I can get, so I really need to tell you some things that have been on my mind." Hermione swallowed.

"I'm so sorry the Death Eaters came after you. It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me being a witch. I feel so guilty -- there are times I can hardly stand it. I would give anything if I could go back and make this turn out differently. But I can't. God doesn't make deals, does he? I learned that lesson the hard way."

"This will sound weird, but in the autumn, I had a long talk with Professor Snape and it helped. Yes, he's the one who teaches Potions who is brilliant and mean as a snake. He's nicer than I thought when you talk to him one-to-one. He said you wouldn't have wanted me to be there that night because it would have still turned out the same way and I'd be dead too. That's pretty much the case. I couldn't have taken on a team of Death Eaters and won. I'd be laying here with the two of you right now. In my heart, I know you wouldn't want that."

"I don't know if the guilt will ever go away, but I promise to go on with my life. I'll make you proud, I promise," she said in a choked whisper.

Hermione squared her shoulders and placed her hand on her father's headstone. "I know you know all of this, but I want to tell you anyway. I finished at Hogwarts. Yes, I was top of the class. My NEWTs were the highest of the year and I had some of the best marks over the last fifty years."

"I know you watched the Leaving Ceremony from where you are. My favorite part was at the end when all of my classmates joined their magical energy together and added to the wards around Hogwarts. We stood in a huge circle around the castle and raised our wands. All of that magic together glowing in a golden dome over the castle. It was beautiful in the moonlight. We added our magic to over a thousand years of other classes, adding to the protection of all of the students to come, a gift of sorts to the school."

"The Weasleys were there, all of them except Percy. They were there for all three of us, Harry, Ron, and me. We had a party the next night at The Burrow. I had too much to drink and told all the Weasleys how much I love them." Hermione chuckled. "Charlie, Fred, and George teased me mercilessly about that for days. Molly and Arthur have been so good to me. They helped me with the house, clearing it out so it could be sold. Headmaster Dumbledore got a solicitor who filed the will and handled all of the legal issues. There's enough money to cover college and my living expenses. Molly and Arthur invited me to stay with them when I'm not at school. They've kind of adopted me."

"I'm in college now. This summer, I've been taking a computer class at Avalon. It's been fun and I'm really looking forward to starting regular classes this autumn. I got exemptions from the first semester classes, so I'm starting college as a second semester freshman."

"I've made a couple of friends there. Believe it or not, Draco Malfoy might be one of them. He's not an asshole there like he was at Hogwarts." Hermione paused and smiled. "Okay Mum, I'll watch my language. I'm picking up the American way of talking."

"It hasn't been easy, but I'm doing all right. There are times when I miss you both so much it hurts, but it's getting better. Though, if you could do something about the nightmares, I'd really appreciate it."

Hermione stood and brushed grass and dirt from her slacks. She bent down and straightened the wreath at her mother's grave. "I won't be able to come and visit very often. Chicago's a long ways away and I don't really have a sense of how often I'll be able to come back to England during the academic year."

"I love you both. Give my love to Nana and Grandpa for me. And if you run into a guy named Sirius Black, give him my best and tell him Harry and Remus miss him and hope he's well. He's average height, good looking, has lots of weird tattoos, and turns into a huge black dog now and then. I have to go now. I'm making dinner for the Order members who'll be at headquarters tonight. I'll try to come back sometime during autumn. I miss you."

"I know you're watching over me. I love you both."

Hermione picked up her backpack, took a long last look, and disappeared.

------------------

_To: Professor Severus Snape, P.M., Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_From: Gerhard Boch, P.M., Avalon College_

_Date: August 18, 1998_

_Regarding: Hermione Granger,_

_I want to take this opportunity to thank you for encouraging Hermione Granger to attend Avalon College. She is a most extraordinary young woman and will be a real asset to our student body. I am her academic advisor and met with her earlier this summer. I encouraged her to take the proficiency examinations in the entry-level classes before we would outline her courses for her freshman year. Miss Granger has managed to proficiency out of all of the first semester classes required of freshmen. She will begin the regular term as a second semester freshman, only because it is our policy not to allow students to test out of classes beyond the entry level._

_I personally conducted Miss Granger's Potions examination, which she tackled easily enough. Out of sheer curiosity, I spoke with her afterwards and quizzed her in the manner of an oral examination. You will be pleased to know that she did not miss a single question until we reached the third year, second semester material. I believe she only missed those because her knowledge of Muggle science is not comparable to what a third year Potions student at Avalon would have. _

_When asked what she attributed her knowledge to, she specifically mentioned you. Miss Granger stated that whenever she thought she had answered a question, you rarely accepted the answer, questioning her further to lead her into new areas of study. She said you kept her curious._

_I realize you have obligations that make it difficult to consider the possibility of leaving Hogwarts. If you should ever decide you would like to take your teaching career in a new direction, I hope you will give me the first opportunity to discuss it with you._

Severus leaned back in his office chair, the letter in his hand. Miss Granger had done quite well for herself and Severus was inordinately pleased by her success. Gerhardt had equated her knowledge of Potions to that of a third year college student. It was highly complimentary and probably quite accurate. That Granger had spoken so highly of her former Potions Professor was unexpected, but he did not doubt that she meant it. Miss Granger might be a bit softhearted, but she would never praise him in such a way if she did not mean it. She was too Gryffindor, too honest.

Interesting that immediately following her commendation in the letter, Gerhardt essentially made the offer of a job.

Severus had sensed that Gerhardt was sizing him up during his visit to Avalon College. Apparently they were quite interested in getting him to come aboard as a college professor at some future time. The offer intrigued him.

For almost twenty years, Severus had been living in a state of frustration at the limitations imposed by teaching children. His own research had to come secondary. His naturally unpleasant temperament and lack of patience were not the most conducive to teaching youngsters. There were times when he felt trapped into a life he would never have chosen if left to his own devices. His obligations to Albus Dumbledore and his own conscience would not permit him to leave Hogwarts until the situation with Voldemort was resolved to seek the kind of career that he might find more satisfying. Not that Voldemort would allow him to leave Hogwarts either.

Would teaching young adults be better?

Probably.

At least at the college, once students got beyond the basic Potions courses, only those who were truly interested would take Potions classes. He could not imagine what it would be like to teach a classroom full of Grangers, but it would have to be challenging and perhaps….fun? Not that he would be likely to have a classroom of students of her caliber, but even close approximations would be acceptable.

He had never seriously considered leaving England before. His brief stay in Chicago at a nice hotel with the services of the call girl could not be considered typical of what daily life would be like. He was unsure about living in a large city with the noise and crowds. He was a solitary person and required a good deal of time alone. He lived in the dungeons by choice. His midnight rounds of the castle and the grounds were not just due to insomnia; they were also an expression of his need to have space around him. Severus considered the possibility that if he were less frustrated with his work and life in general, he could tolerate the change in environment.

Looking over the letter again, Severus snorted. There seemed little point in considering the future. Until the war was over, he could go nowhere. Chances were, when all was said and done, it was more likely he would take up residence in a cemetery than on a college campus in Chicago.

Severus opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a folder containing personal materials. The letter joined the other papers in the file. He did not need to answer the letter, at least not today.

Meanwhile, his philosophy of taking life one day at a time would carry him through. At the very least, Gerhardt's opinion of Granger's capabilities confirmed his decision to offer her practical potions experience by functioning as an apprentice during her time in England.

There was a meeting at the Order's headquarters tonight and Miss Granger would be there. Severus had left her a list of things he needed her to do, essentially dangling the carrot in front of her by treating her like an apprentice. Severus was confident she would accept his offer and he would have her services for the next few years. All in all, it could be very satisfying to have a master/apprentice relationship. There was much he had learned over the years that he would like to impart to someone capable of understanding what he was talking about. Yes, he would discuss it with her tonight.

-----------------------------

Remus stood in the kitchen, looking very stern and annoyed.

"And just where have you been, young lady?"

"I stopped at the cemetery to check my parent's graves," replied Hermione, confused, "I wanted to see if the headstones looked the way I ordered them."

"Molly flooed to let me know when you left. I've been waiting for you to arrive for almost two hours. I was on the verge of sounding an alert in the Order."

"I'm sorry you were worried, Remus. It wasn't my intention to upset anyone. If I had told Molly where I was going, she would have insisted on accompanying me. I needed to do this alone." Hermione put her backpack on the kitchen table.

"You can't go off like that by yourself without letting someone know where you are going. While I don't think Voldemort is after you specifically, we can't assume the Death Eaters don't have some sort of standing order to take advantage of a situation where they'd get you alone. Visiting your parents' graves alone is foolish under the circumstances. They could have been warded in some way to trigger an alert that you were present," Remus lectured, "You could have been snatched and none of us would be any the wiser."

Hermione put her hand on Remus' arm. "Thank you for being worried about me, but I did take precautions. I have the Portkey the Headmaster charmed on me at all times. One sign of an intruder and I would have been back at the Burrow in an instant. Besides, if Voldemort wants me all he has to do is give Draco Malfoy the orders and Draco would have no choice but give it his best shot. As I recall, some of my DADA training came from you, Remus. By the way, I asked Mum and Dad to say hello to Sirius for you."

Remus' expression softened, "Don't think I don't realize you are trying to butter me up to keep me from being angry about this. I want your promise you won't go places alone without telling anyone where you're going. I've asked the same thing of Harry and Ron. Yes, you're eighteen and legally an adult just as they are. But, the three of you are targets whether you like it or not. And none of you have as much experience in dealing with Death Eaters as you think you have."

"Don't you realize they could have turned your parent's gravestones into a Portkey?" he asked. "That is how they got Harry in the labyrinth when Crouch, Jr. turned that damn trophy into a Portkey. Your Portkey would do you no good under those circumstances." His expression became stern again. "You can give me your word on this or I can tell Molly and let her handle it. Which would you prefer?"

Hermione eyed Remus suspiciously. "You've been taking lessons from Professor Snape, haven't you? It's your voice, but those are his words."

"If becoming a bit Slytherin is necessary to look after my friends, I will."

Hermione capitulated. "All right, Remus. When I'm in England, I will keep Molly and Arthur informed about my comings and goings. You need to remember that I'm in Chicago most of the time and completely on my own there. There isn't anyone to check in or out with. It would surprise you to know, but if something happened to me Draco would probably be the first person to notice."

"How are things going with you and young Malfoy?"

"Pretty well. Draco is much nicer when he doesn't feel like he has to be Lucius Malfoy, Junior for the benefit of his Slytherin friends. We've been in computer camp for almost six weeks and we're getting along fine."

"You don't feel threatened by him?"

"Not so far. We take most of our meals together, along with Anita Schuler and even study together. You would not believe how fascinated he is by Muggle technology and Muggle life. He's bought a CD player and listens to Muggle music, watches movies, goes out to restaurants. He wants to go to a live concert when Elton John goes on tour this autumn. You would not believe it."

"Tell me about Anita Schuler. She's Daniel Schuler's daughter, isn't she?" asked Remus.

"Yes. Anita is smart and an absolute whiz on the computer, but she's average as a witch. She's majoring in Charms. Anita and Draco hit it off right away. They've been out on a few dates. I know he's supposed to be gathering intelligence on wizarding America and he probably tells the folks he's doing all this for research, but he really likes her.

Remus pulled mugs and a box of tea bags out of the cupboard. He poured hot water into the mugs from the bottomless teakettle on the cooker and added tea bags, handing one to Hermione.

"I know Professor Snape says Draco does not want to be a Death Eater and is not a threat to you." Remus leaned back against the counter, dipping his tea bag in and out of the water. He looked tired, the lines on his face more pronounced. "Severus is usually a pretty good judge of such things, but he's been friends with the Malfoys for a long time. Draco is probably like a nephew to him."

Remus looked intensely at Hermione. "Don't take the chance that Severus is wrong about this one. Be careful what you say to Malfoy. Be careful how far you trust him. You're one of those people who needs to look after other people, you tend to trust too easily. He could take advantage of that. He's Slytherin and he's a Malfoy, a combination that has produced master manipulators. I want you to be careful."

Hermione looked seriously at Remus. "I can be naïve about people, can't I?"

"In other circumstances, being a little naïve and trusting can be positive quality. It means you give people a chance that might not get one otherwise. But in spying, which is essentially what you've been asked to do with Draco, it's a quality that can get you killed."

"I'm not saying to change your personality. You wouldn't be you and that would be real loss. I'm just saying to be careful. Think things through before you say them; decide how far it is safe to go ahead of time. If you want some help with that, Professor Snape or I would be willing to talk it through with you."

Hermione considered what Remus said. He was right; she had come to trust Draco more than she should.

"You're right, Remus. I probably trust Draco more than is sensible. I'll think about what you've said."

"Good," Remus nodded. "Now that we've had our heart-to-heart, Severus left instructions for some things he wanted done down in the lab. Harry and Ron should be back about 5:30 pm from boot camp. That'll give you a couple of hours before the three of you go on kitchen duty."

"I'll get to work, then." Hermione picked up her backpack. "Thanks, Remus."

"You're welcome, Hermione."

-----------------

Author's note: This is such a busy day, it turned into two chapters!


	28. Chapter 28

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thanks to the reviewers who have noticed and mentioned what a terrific job Julia is doing by making terminology genuinely British! As always, thank you to Amrun for the grammar and punctuation lessons.

-----------------------

Severus and Hermione

August 22, 1998, Part Two

It was obvious Professor Snape had been doing some work down in the cellar laboratory. He was running low on some ingredients and had making an inventory on Hermione's To Do list. In two hours, Hermione had a complete list of all potions ingredients, including the ones in the cold storage and their current quantity and condition. She could visualize making a table for this on her computer and bringing back multiple copies. It could be done in a fill-in-the-blank format for quantity and condition. A copy could be kept on a clipboard attached to the cabinets, which would make it easy to do a running inventory. Hermione had just started on an equipment inventory when she heard the sound of familiar voices from upstairs. Putting aside her work, Hermione headed in search of her friends.

As soon as Hermione stepped out of the cellar, a tall redhead caught her in a bear hug.

"Mione, Mione, it is so good to see you." Ron leaned back and pulled Hermione off the floor, resulting in a squeal.

"Ron, for heavens sake put me down. I can't breathe," Hermione laughed. Ron put her back on her feet only for her to be whirled around by another pair of hands who pulled Hermione into another hug which pulled her off the floor again, though not quite as high as Ron had managed.

Hermione was laughing along with Harry as he set her back onto the floor.

"What has got into you two?" Hermione put her arms around their waists.

"Auror boot camp," answered Harry, proudly, "We've been running, doing calisthenics, and building up in general."

"We've been lifting weights," bragged Ron, "Wanna see my muscles?" he leered at her.

"Wow, they really have been making you two work out." Hermione reached up and grasped Ron's upper arm. There was definitely muscle there she hadn't felt before. She reached over and did the same with Harry. "I can really feel the difference."

"Yeah, we're feeling quite manly now," laughed Harry, "When we're not too sore to move."

"Well, it's time to move now," teased Hermione, "We're fixing dinner."

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" asked Ron. "Every time you come back home, we end up cooking?"

"The Italian beef wasn't bad, was it?"

"It was pretty good," admitted Harry.

"We're fixing shrimp fried rice tonight. I had some at a Chinese restaurant and it's really good. If I have to be gone most of the time, at least I can bring back some different kinds of foods for everyone to try. Your Mum is a great cook, Ron, but it is nice to have something different once in a while."

Ron looked at Harry. "I guess we're going to have to suck it up, mate."

"It won't be that bad. There's not nearly as much preparation for you two in this one."

The three headed to the kitchen, where Hermione passed out assignments. In short order, Ron was peeling carrots and Harry chopping mushrooms. Hermione had a large pot of rice on the cooker as she pulled the tails off of freshly defrosted shrimps. Fifteen minutes later, a large bag of frozen peas were cooked, spring onions chopped, bean sprouts rinsed, and a dozen eggs had been scrambled. Using the largest frying pan from the cupboard, Hermione stir-fried the slivered carrots. As they cooked, Hermione poured soy sauce and oyster sauce into a bowl and added spices. Next, she added the mushrooms and spring onions, stirring as they sizzled in the pan.

As if on cue, the kitchen door opened and Minerva, Dumbledore, and Snape walked in. Hermione could have burst out laughing. She knew exactly what would happen. Sure enough, after greetings were exchanged, Professor Snape strolled over to the cooker, where Hermione added the shrimp to the mixture, deftly flipping the vegetables and seafood around the pan with a spatula.

"This appears to be an oriental dish, Miss Granger." He looked around the cooker. "I presume that is a pot of rice?"

"Yes it is."

"Shrimp fried rice? Given the size of the pot, there is a good deal more rice than would be typical of an oriental recipe."

"A very good and, I presume, an educated guess, Professor."

Professor Snape looked at the bowl of soy sauce. He reached for it and paused, "May I, Miss Granger?"

"Certainly, sir."

He lifted the bowl and took a sniff.

"Obviously, this is a mixture of soy sauce and oyster sauce," he said.

"Obviously," agreed Hermione, nodding. Snape took another sniff.

"I detect garlic and ginger." He paused and sniffed again. "The slightest hint of mustard."

"Right on target, Professor." Hermione smiled at up at him.

"Master Jigger always said I had the perfect nose for a Potions Master," he said, looking down at Hermione, challenge in his eyes.

Looking up at Professor Snape and his considerable nose, Hermione was uncertain of the proper response. After a moments pause, she decided to take the risk.

"There's no point in not making use of a natural advantage."

Professor Snape laughed.

Minerva and the Headmaster, who had been watching the exchange between the Professor and his former student, burst into laughter. Ron and Harry joined in, but looked confused.

"Miss Granger," interrupted Dumbledore, "I do believe you have inveigled Professor Snape into making a joke."

"It was not a joke," retorted Snape, "but an honest observation."

"Professor Snape has a genuine talent for discerning ingredients." Hermione remarked.

"Speaking of which, are you ready to add the rice, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Yes, I think everything else is ready."

"Allow me."

Professor Snape pulled back the sleeves of his robes. Hermione moved out of the way as he stepped in front of her. He picked up two of Molly's knitted potholders and grasped the large heavy pot by the handles. He tipped it for Hermione and she took off the lid. Using a long handled wooden spoon, Hermione began to transfer the rice into the frying pan. She had to pause once to enlarge the pan to accommodate the volume of rice. When the rice pot was empty, Professor Snape carried it over to Harry and handed it to him.

"As I recall, you are exceptionally skilled at cleaning out cauldrons, Mr. Potter." Snape gave Harry a wicked look. "You should be able to address this one quite well."

Harry took the pot with a good-natured smile. "My pleasure, sir."

Snape turned back to Hermione with a slight bow. "I look forward to sampling the cuisine you have prepared for us tonight, Miss Granger." He pushed the sleeves of his robes back down and swept out of the room.

Ron looked at him in awe and turned to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall.

"Where is Professor Snape and what have you done with him?"

Everyone laughed.

------------------------

As he considered it later, Severus could not for the life of him imagine what possessed him to engage in playful banter with Hermione Granger in the kitchen in front of Minerva, Albus, and her two idiot friends.

Sitting in the parlor with a plate full of shrimp fried rice on his lap, listening to Remus and Arthur drone on about the fools at the Ministry; Severus made a good front of attending to what they were saying. Instead his mind was dwelling on the bushy haired young woman sitting between Weasley and Potter. He took another mouthful of the tasty rice and shrimp concoction. Granger was a good cook, a common hobby among Potions makers.

Severus was not in the habit of making jokes about his own nose, having put up with too many of them over the years. Not that he was unaware of the size and shape of his own proboscis, given that he looked in a mirror every morning when he shaved. Master Arsenius had tactfully referred to Severus as having a Potions Master's nose. A large nose with sensitive scent receptors and room for a good nostril full of air were an asset in his line of work. His talent at discerning and identifying the scents of potion ingredients was very useful in analyzing potions and assessing the quality of ingredients.

As an apprentice, Severus cultivated the talent by practicing until he could easily recognize individual ingredients and then sort them out when they were combined with others. It had become a topic of humor between himself, Amanda, and Master Arsenius, especially since neither of them was blessed with Severus' level of olfactory capability. He never minded the give and take of the teasing that went on between the three of them. It was an expression of camaraderie and friendship.

As he considered the incident in the kitchen, Severus decided that it was an appropriate interaction between himself and Miss Granger. Severus, in the role of master, made a self-deprecating joke. Miss Granger, in the role of apprentice, responded to the joke by teasing him back.

Even though Miss Granger did not know she was an apprentice at the time, she had come to the correct conclusion that she could respond to his joke and not concern herself about being snapped at. Severus responded appropriately by laughing, confirming that she had his permission to tease him.

Severus was satisfied with his analysis of the situation. The interaction with Miss Granger was acceptable. It had been quite spontaneous, which was unusual for him. He probably should have refrained from it in front of an audience who might seek to tease him about it later.

Assisting her by lifting the heavy pot of rice was a simple courtesy, since his height and greater strength made it easier for him to do. He could simply have levitated it, but it showed a certain informality to do it by hand for a meal prepared by hand. However, it could only serve to further entice Miss Granger into the apprenticeship relationship by demonstrating their interactions would be much more comfortable than was possible in the classroom setting.

It was, indeed, quite clever of him to manipulate her in such a manner. Severus decided to be pleased with himself.

"And what do you think of this, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

Severus snapped out of his reverie. "My apologies, I was caught up in my own thoughts and did not hear the last part."

"Do you think the Dark Lord will make any significant moves this autumn?"

"I suspect he is planning something, but I am unsure of what it may be. He has requested I investigate two classifications of potions, hallucinogens and inhibition reducers, but has not disclosed to me their intended uses. I am playing a guessing game as to what he wants, but this is not unusual for him." Severus shook his head. "I cannot even be certain he wants them for whatever move he is planning. There are times the Dark Lord requests I prepare a potion and I never learn if he has used it."

"You think the Dark Lord is planning something based on his request for the potions study or is there something else that leads you to believe this?" inquired Remus.

"There is information that one of the cells is engaged in training exercises of some sort. I cannot disclose my source."

Hermione asked the question that was on the minds of the others. "Professor, the Death Eaters have been quiet since the raid against the Muggleborn families last October. Do you think he may be planning something for the anniversary or around that time?"

"It is strictly a guess on my part, but based on the way the Dark Lord has operated in the past, anniversaries are important to him. We were all surprised this year when he did nothing at Hogwarts at the end of the summer term. Since his attempt to gain the Sorcerer's stone in 1992, we have seen a major attack of some sort at the end of term with the exception of 1994." Severus handed his empty plate to Ron, who was walking around collecting them.

"Some of his other major incidents have occurred around Halloween, particularly during the first war," he continued. "The list includes the murder of the McKinnon family, the destruction of the Memorial to Victims of the Grindelwald War, and the murder of the Potters. The attack against the Muggleborn families was around Halloween, so it may signal a return to a pattern from the past."

"I wonder why the Dark Lord has been so quiet since the Muggleborn family murders?" asked Harry. "My scar hasn't hurt nearly as often as it used to."

Severus had his own opinions on the subject, but that was a topic for discussion with the inner circle of the Order, not for the new members and especially that nitwit.

Conversation on the subject of Voldemort's inactivity continued for a period of time. Without any further specifics, discussion was pure speculation. Order members started to depart, plans confirmed to hold their next meeting in a month unless new information was obtained. A break was announced and everyone except the inner circle was asked to leave.

Severus decided this was a perfect opportunity to approach Granger. He found her in the kitchen, storing the leftovers in the cold cabinet, with preservation spells locked in place. Weasley was still in the parlor talking to Remus and Potter had gone upstairs to his room in anticipation of going on duty early in the morning.

"Miss Granger, I would like to thank you for obtaining the information about the magical snakes in New Zealand. Although I am not at liberty to explain the significance of the research you performed on my behalf, be assured the information is useful."

Severus checked the bottomless teakettle to make certain the water was hot. He took out a mug and looked at Hermione. "Would you like some tea, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Severus took out a second mug. He rummaged around in the cupboard looking for loose tea. All he found were teabags. Aggravated, he shook his head. "I must get some decent tea making supplies to keep here," he muttered. Holding the two teabags as if they were a pair of annoyed scorpions, he offered one to Hermione. She accepted it and both took a moment to allow their tea to steep.

"Professor, I'm glad the information is helpful and I fully understand the concept of need to know. If I can be of service, please call on me any time. There may be some kinds of research I can do more quickly than can be done here or at Hogwarts."

"That is precisely what I wished to talk to you about. The research you did demonstrated your value to the Order. Scholars have an important role, even if it is not obvious to other members of the organization. We build the foundation on which the long-term strategy is based. You are an acceptable student of Potions and have knowledge across disciplines not often found in someone of your years." Severus paused to take the teabag and toss it into the rubbish bin. He was rather tempted to blast the thing into bits but decided that would be melodramatic.

"Professor Boch sent me a letter a few days ago," remarked Severus, "He took the liberty of telling me you exempted from out of the first semester classes and that you will begin school this autumn as a second semester freshman. He also mentioned that when you took your potions test, he asked questions of you to test the depth of your knowledge. He tells me you have Potions knowledge equivalent to that of a third year student."

"I have shared the contents of the letter with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. We were quite pleased to learn of your success. You have done much of which to be proud of and as your teachers; we take pride in your accomplishments."

Hermione gave him a glowing smile. "Professor, I don't know what to say. I didn't know that's what Professor Boch was doing when we spoke after the test. I thought he just wanted to get a sense of what kinds of things were covered in your Potions curriculum."

Severus was pleased with Granger's response. He had anticipated that she would respond very positively to praise, particularly coming from a teacher who had rarely praised her in school. It was time to spring the trap.

"Given your capabilities and versatility, I would like to offer you an opportunity to consider. Under current circumstances, I could not make an offer of an apprenticeship to you, hence your attendance at Avalon College. Additionally, it would be considered inappropriate for a single male to offer an apprenticeship to a single female. However, I would like to offer you an informal arrangement to supplement what you are learning at the college."

"While you are at Avalon," he continued, "I would like to avail myself of your services in doing the kind of research I have already requested of you. You may be able to do it far more quickly than I could myself, given the technology available to you. When you are here in England you may assist me in Potions development and preparation for the Order. This will give you practical experience in areas that may not be in the college's curriculum."

"For example, I would like to teach you to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion. It is unwise to have only one member of the Order capable of brewing it. If I were incapacitated at the time of the full moon, the results could be disastrous."

Severus paused and examined her body language to assess her response. The little Gryffindor bookworm was glowing with excitement, offering Wolfsbane training was the perfect lure and she was taking the bait. "Be forewarned, it will also include the opportunity to clean cauldrons, refill supplies, and do the general menial work required of any apprentice."

"Professor, I would be absolutely delighted. I've already offered to help in any way I can, including doing research and menial work. It is very generous of you to offer additional training and the opportunity to assist you in brewing more advanced Potions than what I can do now." Hermione's eyes were shining and she gave him a mischievous look. "Does this mean I get to ask lots of questions and pick your brain?"

"Within reason, Miss Granger, within reason," Severus quirked a hint of a smile.

"In that case, this is Christmas and you are Santa Claus. I'd be delighted to accept." Hermione held out her hand. Severus paused for a moment and shook it. Her hand was so small, the bones fine, and her skin dry and cool against his calluses.

"I think the appellation of Santa Claus would be more appropriately applied to the Headmaster. It is unlikely anyone will confuse me with a cheerful, gift bearing legend."

"It's all in the eye of the beholder, Professor. As far as I'm concerned, this is a wonderful gift and I am very appreciative."

"Then I expect you in the lab tomorrow. We will begin your training on the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Thank you, sir. What time do you want me here?"

"I believe noon would be reasonable, Miss Granger. I must return to the meeting in the parlor and kick Mr. Weasley out of it."

Hermione laughed. "Good night, Professor. I will be here at noon."

Success!

--------------------------

The inner circle reconvened for their meeting. Although Dumbledore would not acknowledge it to the other members, the true work of strategizing occurred here and not in front of less experienced members.

"Severus, I believe you have news to report?"

Severus was back in his favorite seat on the sofa.

"At our last gathering, I brought a heptagonal leaf plucked from the Dark Lord's robes. Thanks to Miss Granger's access to the botanical identification program at Avalon College, the leaf has been identified. It is a magical clover found only in New Zealand. In the information Miss Granger was able to provide about the plant, it appears two species of magical snakes found only in New Zealand crawl through the clover and receive a magical charge that they in turn rub onto their eggs to protect them against predators."

"These two species of snakes have very different magical uses," he continued. "One species has remarkable camouflage abilities. I believe it is unlikely the Dark Lord is attempting to use this species. It takes hundreds of these snakes to make a camouflage potion and they breed poorly in captivity. The second species is able to use a magical influence to hypnotize prey. The blood of this species is also used in treating heart arrhythmias caused by magical fluctuations."

The last bit of information caused quite a stir.

"Severus, do you believe it is possible the Dark Lord is experiencing a heart ailment?" asked Minerva.

"It is a possibility. When one considers that he used the Bone, Flesh, and Blood spell to compose a body for himself, the Dark Lord may have built an imperfect one. He used genetic material from Harry Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and his own father. If there are heart defects or magical fluctuation problems in any of those genetic codes, it could be affecting him," speculated Severus. "Or it could be a defect in the spell itself. It is very Dark and primitive magic."

"It could explain why the Dark Lord has been so quiet in the last year," suggested Remus.

"Have you seen any sign of ill-health or magical failures?" asked Dumbledore.

"Believe me, Albus, if I had seen any such signs I would have told you immediately," answered Severus. "However, I am with him for limited amounts of time and usually in the company of other Death Eaters. He would not risk looking weak in front of a gathering. There have been no incidents where he has Apparated out before the work of the group was done. He has engaged in hours of oratory without appearing to be weakened by it."

"Severus, are you the only Potions expert he has available to him?" inquired Minerva.

"I believe I am the only Potions Master in the Death Eaters, unless he has access to one in a foreign country." Severus pondered a moment. "He may use other Death Eaters to prepare potions for him. He may even make some for himself. Or he could use Pettigrew to do it. I doubt Pettigrew could make a sophisticated potion."

"Would he have the ability to prepare the heart strengthening potion you mentioned earlier?" continued Minerva.

"Yes. The potion itself is not difficult to prepare, but some of the ingredients would be difficult to obtain."

"As a Parselmouth, would Riddle be more capable of keeping the snakes in captivity?" speculated Minerva. "We know that Harry has been able to communicate with snakes and get them to do things he requests. It seems Riddle is able to do that with Nagini. Could he be doing this with a variety of breeds? Breeds that contribute ingredients which strengthen or repair a defective body, especially a body which appears to have snake-like qualities?"

"Excellent thinking, Minerva," answered Severus, thoughtfully. "I had not considered that as a possibility. I believe I will research both human and veterinary potions that use snake components as ingredients and see if I can identify likely candidates. It was pure chance that allowed me to find that leaf. I may find no other credible evidence to point me in the direction of which potions he uses. If health issues weaken the Dark Lord, Pettigrew is the only one who is with him enough to know this with any certainty. I can guarantee he will not share such information with me."

"I realize this is speculation, but we must all be very careful," urged Remus, "Even within the Order, we cannot discuss this possibility."

"Agreed," said Dumbledore, "The general membership of the Order does not need to know this and we cannot risk any leaks. This research will be time consuming and term will start soon. Is there assistance we can provide, Severus?"

"There may be, but not now. I may utilize Miss Granger's access to the computer system at Avalon College to do some work for me. Her assistance in finding a match to the leaf was invaluable. In two hours, she completed a task that would have required many hours of my time. Speaking of which, I have offered Miss Granger the opportunity to assist me in research for the Order in exchange for advanced training in Potions and she has accepted. Tomorrow, I intend to begin training her to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion."

Remus gave Severus an assessing look. "I think it's an excellent idea. I have full confidence in Hermione's ability to produce a safe and effective potion."

"It is very generous of you to offer Hermione the training, Severus. And in return, your cauldrons will be cleaned," teased Minerva.

"One can never have too many clean cauldrons," was the dry response. "In the practical sense, it is wise to have more than one of us capable of brewing Wolfsbane. If I was incapacitated or circumstances prevented me from preparing it, Remus could be in a difficult situation."

He turned to Remus. "As you are aware, the Death Eaters know you are a pivotal Order member and there is a general order requiring you be seized if seen. Go into the wrong apothecary and order Wolfsbane and you would be escorted directly to the Dark Lord."

"I'm curious. Why hasn't the Dark Lord ordered you to poison me? Or make a defective potion that results in my death?" asked Remus.

"I can answer that, Remus," said Dumbledore. "Riddle believes I prepare it for you. My skills as an alchemist are sufficient to do so and Severus and I staged an evening where he watched me prepare it in his laboratory. Riddle has seen this image in his mind and accepted it as the regular practice."

"It will give you great comfort to know the Dark Lord did give me leave to poison you seven months ago," Severus smirked. That is when Albus and I came up with the scheme. It is part of the 'Dumbledore only trusts me so far' repertoire of responses I have given him over the years. After all, the Dark Lord knows of our intense dislike of each other from our teen years."

"I appreciate your unwillingness to do me in," said Remus, "But it probably would have been a good idea to tell me what was going on."

"I was supposed to do that, Remus," said Dumbledore sheepishly, "I believe I forgot."

"Ah. Well, there's no harm done and I get the potion I need every month."

As much as Severus and Remus had resolved their issues in the years since the werewolf had returned to Hogwarts, Severus found himself resenting the quick forgiveness Dumbledore received. He was quite certain that if he had failed to tell Remus that he and Dumbledore were feeding false information to Voldemort about who prepared the Wolfsbane, Remus would have been far less forgiving.

"If there is nothing further to discuss, I will take my leave," said Severus brusquely.

Minerva recognized the reason for Severus's prickly response. Albus favored his Gryffindors and had a close relationship with his favorites. For those like Sirius Black, James Potter, and Remus Lupin, virtually nothing was unforgivable and they returned the feeling.

At the same time, Albus' expectations of Severus were so high to be almost unreachable. As much as she loved the students of her House, especially particular ones such as Remus, she acknowledged that none of them had ever faced the constant level of stress and pain Severus lived with on a daily basis. Other than those who died, none had paid a higher price for loyalty to Albus Dumbledore than Severus Snape.

How much of it was because in many ways, Albus had taken on the role of a father to the young man who had never been able to please his own? How much of their relationship was burdened with the baggage both men carried but would not acknowledge? She could not fix that, but tonight she could help Severus. Minerva's bad leg was bothering her tonight and she had used the cane she preferred to leave behind whenever she could.

"Severus," said Minerva, deep affection in her voice, "Come over here and help an old woman to her feet." She held out her hand to him and Severus stood immediately and took her hand, moved to her side and placed his other hand under her elbow. Minerva shifted and pushed up from the chair, allowing Severus to support her. She took her cane and tucked her arm in his. "I do believe I could use some assistance this evening if I could impose upon you to see me to my quarters at home."

Minerva heard the affection returned as Severus said, "I would be pleased to escort a lady who is much too lovely to be an old woman safely to her chambers."

Minerva gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Then shall we leave these two to their plotting and planning while we go and enjoy some good firewhisky and a cigar by my fire?"

"Those would not happen to be Cuban cigars would they?"

"They will be after I transfigure them back from the handkerchiefs they appear to be from when I pilfered them from your humidor."

"They are never quite the same after they have spent a week or two as one of your handkerchiefs. Please consider storing them in a humidor, Minerva."

The gentle, affectionate banter continued all the way to the castle, leaving Albus and Remus behind for the evening.

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Author's notes:

Many thanks to my reviewers and advisors: Droxy, Evil Mastermind 666, Rinny 08, MadAnge, Princess Fiona, Aldara, Elizabeth, Siren 34, Megan Consoer, Latinachikita, Tranquility, Duj, Meghan, Snape's Witch, Lady Rhian,

Apparently when I went looking for Mayan and Incan ruins in Chapter 26, I failed to locate them in the correct geographic placements. Thanks to Snape's Witch for pointing it out.


	29. Chapter 29

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Here in the Northern Hemisphere, spring is coming. Thank you and bouquets of daffodils to Julia and Amrun for their help with this story.

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Hermione, 8/23/98

"Honestly, Hermione. We really, really love you," said George putting an arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Fred came up on the other side and put his arm around Hermione. His chin now occupied her other shoulder. "We really, really, really love you."

"I'm never going to live it down, am I?" asked Hermione, giving each a sisterly kiss on the cheek in turn.

"Not as long as we all shall live," said Fred solemnly.

"In fact, if we both weren't already taken, we'd probably be willing to really, really, love you," said George.

"We're not averse to sharing," teased Fred.

"We're actually in favor of sharing," added George.

"There's that Muggle saying," whispered Fred suggestively.

"Double your pleasure, double your fun," said George with a wicked grin.

"Honestly, you two need to stop it. Somebody might think you were serious."

"You'll never know for sure, will you?" leered George.

"You're working too much, Hermione. We just want you to have some fun," said Fred.

The twins released Hermione and sat down at the kitchen table. She bustled around the kitchen, using cooking charms to prepare eggs and toast. "I'm not working, I'm cooking. Your mother is teaching me cooking and housekeeping charms."

"And you'll make some lucky bloke a wonderful wife some day. Right now, we want you to go out on a triple date with us."

"That's right," said George, "We just want you to meet Brian."

"You'd have fun, Hermione," promised Fred. "He's a genius, just like you."

"You like Angelina and you've never met Krista," added George.

"Brian's a subcontractor for us, brilliant with potions," said Fred. "He's putting the whiz back into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

"I've seen no sign that you two have lost your whizzes," teased Hermione.

"Now, Hermione you've never laid eyes on our whizzes." It was Fred's turn to leer.

"Nor shall I ever," decreed Hermione as she levitated a pitcher of pumpkin juice and several glasses to the table. Hermione was relieved when Arthur strolled into the kitchen. She didn't think the twins were serious about their proposed threesome, but she wasn't entirely comfortable joking about it. They had to be kidding. Harry and Ron would kill them if they were serious.

"I see you've got breakfast duty this morning, Hermione," said Arthur as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the cooker.

"I hope you like this. I brought this marvelous canned corned beef hash from America. It's one of the few things they can't screw up in the cafeteria at the college. So we've got scrambled eggs, toast, and hash. I'm using Molly's charms."

"Good morning, Dad," chimed the twins with perfect timing.

"Did you two practice that until you got it right?" asked Hermione, eyeing them suspiciously.

"We did not." Again, in perfect unison.

"You did, too," commented Arthur.

"Oh, Dad." Once again.

"They practiced that one too, Hermione," stated Arthur over his coffee cup. He picked up the Daily Prophet and sat down for a read.

'What passes for normal life in this household is amazing,' thought Hermione as she levitated platters of food to the table.

Molly walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. She looked tousled and half asleep. Understanding the morning routine, Hermione went to the cooker and got Molly her coffee. She placed it in front of her. Molly waved her wand to do a cooling charm and then sipped her drink. Nobody talked until Mum got her coffee.

Eating proceeded in silence, which was a bit of a relief after the nonstop George and Fred show. Hermione sat down and addressed her own breakfast.

Molly finished her first cup of coffee. Hermione rose and got her a second cup. By this time, Ginny had joined the silent company. She took a plate and helped herself to breakfast. Halfway through the second cup of coffee, Molly took a piece of toast.

Like a dam bursting, conversation ensued.

"Good morning, everyone," said a bright and perky Ginny.

"Good morning, Ginny," said George and Fred, in what was by now exceedingly annoying unison.

Molly glared at them.

Hermione smiled and passed Ginny the platter of toast. Arthur raised his cup in salute and went back to reading his newspaper.

Ginny looked at Hermione. "I'm going to the shop today to help Fred and George on some projects. Want to come with me?"

"Good idea," added Fred, the unison thing finally over. "We're deciding how we're going to package and market some of our new products. You can give us your opinion."

"And you can test out our new Halloween Horrors line," suggested George, "Just think, one bite into a pumpkin cream and your head looks like a quintaped."

"Eliminating the need for Halloween masks for all time," quipped Hermione as she finished off the last of her hash. "I really appreciate the offer, but I'm going back to headquarters to work on a project with Professor Snape,"

"You did that last time you were here," complained Ginny. "You're supposed to come home to have fun, not to work all the time."

"I'll be home for a full week in a little over two weeks and there'll be plenty of time then to do things just for fun, Ginny. Right now, if the Professor could use some help on a project, as an Order member I have an obligation."

"You'd have more fun with us," said Fred.

"I've already promised," said Hermione.

"I believe that settles it," said Arthur, around a mouthful of eggs.

Molly, under the influence of sufficient mood improving caffeine, was enjoying being waited on at breakfast. She took a second helping of the hash.

"Hermione, you must bring more of this with you next time you come home. This is excellent and I like that little pull-top ring that peels open the can. What a wonderful Muggle invention."

That got Arthur's attention and the next several minutes were spent examining the can, the lid, and the pull top ring. Arthur had completely disassembled the can opener Hermione gave him when they cleaned out her family home. His attempts to reassemble it made it look like Frankenstein's can opener with extra bolts sticking out of it. When it still worked at her parents' home, Arthur had opened a dozen cans of vegetables with it. He agreed that this peel-off top was more convenient.

Discussion ensued about why it might work with some products and not with others. George and Fred suggested that it would be too messy using that kind of top on a can of vegetables with the amount of water that might spill out of the can with the amount of force required to peel back the lid. They speculated how this might be used in a practical joke. By popular request, Hermione was to go back to the grocery store and see if she could find a variety of products with the pull top lid and bring them back to experiment with.

Hermione was grateful for the interruption in pressure for her to skive off her responsibilities and go and play at Fred and George's joke shop. Her friends would never understand how the concept of learning to make the Wolfsbane potion could possibly be more intriguing than playing with magical practical jokes that turn one's head into assorted monsters.

Molly and Arthur had plans to visit some friends in Hogsmeade and were getting ready to leave. Molly asked Fred to have a talk with the ghoul who lived in the attic about cleaning up after himself. Fred had the best relationship with the ghoul of anyone in the family and was most likely to get him to cooperate. By the time Fred came back downstairs; George and Ginny had grabbed their brooms and gone on ahead. Hermione had used the spells Molly taught her to clean the kitchen and was enjoying some peace and quiet with her cup of tea.

"Hey, Mione," said Fred, "What are you going to be working on today with Snape?"

"I can't tell you," answered Hermione.

"Secret Order business, eh?"

"Something like that."

"Are you going to be working with Snape a lot?"

"It looks that way."

"I guess that makes sense when you're studying Potions." Fred took a seat next to Hermione. "He's not so bad when you work with him one-to-one."

"When did you work with him that way?" asked Hermione.

"I had a few detentions over the years. Sometimes I'd ask his advice about a potion for one of our Wheezes and he'd make a suggestion or two."

"Professor Snape helped you to develop practical jokes?" Hermione was astonished.

"With the understanding we wouldn't use them at Hogwarts," answered Fred with a grin. "He was interested in making them safe. The Professor pounded it into both our heads that we'd better have an antidote worked out for everything we made before it left our lab."

"That does make sense," nodded Hermione, "With the number of times students have managed to blow up cauldrons or poison themselves in class, Professor Snape's always been safety conscious."

"All it would take is one product liability lawsuit to put us out of business," said Fred in all seriousness. "It's a secret so you can't tell anybody, but we've got him on retainer to review all of our products' ingredients and manufacturing methods before anything goes out the door. He's saved us a lot of problems and it's been worth every galleon we've paid him. George and I are available to him for developing weapons we could use against Voldemort."

"I had no idea you two were working with him."

"We know about his spying. He didn't outright tell us, we guessed. He didn't exactly admit to it, but didn't deny it either. I can't imagine what his life is like. He's got so many lies he has to keep track of to keep Voldemort from know what he's doing. I'd be barmy if my life was that complicated."

"I guess that's one of the reasons we ended up in Gryffindor and he's Head of Slytherin. He's been doing this since before we were born," observed Hermione, shaking her head in amazement.

"The man's always had a difficult life, what with the thing with his parents and all. I guess it toughens you up having that kind of childhood."

"What do you mean the thing with his parents?" asked Hermione, her curiosity piqued.

"You don't know about Snape's parents?" asked Fred, one eyebrow quirked up in a surprisingly Snape-like manner. "Well, I guess being a Muggleborn you wouldn't know about it. Growing up in wizarding society like we did, you just take it for granted everybody knows."

"What happened?"

"From what I've heard, it happened when Snape was a First or Second Year at Hogwarts. His father caught his mother fooling around on him. She was going to leave him for this other bloke so he killed her and then offed himself."

"That's horrible." Hermione was shocked. It was terrible enough dealing with the loss of her parents at the age of eighteen. It had to have been worse for him dealing with it at twelve, especially a murder and suicide. No wonder he'd been sympathetic to her situation when they talked that night at Astronomy Tower. He really did understand what she'd been going through. Hermione was stunned at this revelation. She looked back up at Fred. "How did he live when he wasn't at Hogwarts?"

"You know that rotter Lucius Malfoy and Professor Snape are distant cousins?"

Hermione nodded.

"Even though there's two or three years in between them, they got to be friends at Hogwarts. At the time, Malfoy's father was still alive and in charge. I guess Lucius Malfoy talked his father into taking some interest. Snape wasn't good enough to live at Malfoy Manor, but the old man made certain he got to stay with some of the other relatives during the summer."

"I guess it makes more sense now about why Professor Snape is the way he is, why he doesn't seem to trust anybody," replied Hermione, thoughtfully.

"He wouldn't have much reason to trust anybody," speculated Fred. "But like I said before, when you work with him one-to-one, he's not bad. I mean he's sarcastic and all, but he doesn't give you hell just for the sake of giving you hell when there isn't an audience around that might report back to Voldemort. I got the impression a few times that he was having fun working with George and me on some of our products. Even heard him laugh once or twice.

"I've noticed that, too," confided Hermione. "He teased me yesterday when I was cooking at headquarters and even thanked me for work I've done for him. He'd never do anything like that at Hogwarts."

"Nope, he probably wouldn't," remarked Fred. "Well, I'd better get going if I'm going to catch up with George and Ginny. Brian will be by the shop later if you get free earlier than you think."

"I'll probably be busy until about suppertime. Then it'll be time to come back here, collect Crookshanks, and portkey back to Chicago. I probably won't get a chance to see you guys again before I leave."

"You'll be back in about two weeks, so that's not bad. If you're about ready to leave for headquarters, why don't you get your stuff and I'll lock and ward everything here and walk you back to the garden."

Hermione went upstairs and got her backpack. Her weekender bag was already packed and Crookshanks' empty cat carrier was sitting beside it. She was on her way to see Professor Snape to learn how to make Wolfsbane. If anyone had told her a year ago, she would begin to view him as anything other than the chronically unfair, and generally unpleasant bastard he portrayed himself to be at Hogwarts, she'd have called them nuts.

--------------------

"The base for Wolfsbane is complex to make, but has a four month shelf-life. We will begin there." Professor Snape handed Hermione a list of the ingredients. "I realize you have had no opportunity to study this in advance, but I would like you to explain to me the purpose of the Wolfsbane potion and why each ingredient was selected for the base."

'He's making this a challenge right from the start,' thought Hermione. Taking a deep breath, she began.

"The whole point of the Wolfsbane potion is to enable the lycanthrope to maintain awareness of the human self during the change and increase mental alertness while providing a calming effect. This will diminish aggression, reducing the danger to the general population and the lycanthrope," explained Hermione carefully.

"Why would increasing mental alertness be a desirable affect? Would not an overall calming be preferable?"

"Mental alertness is essential to maintaining awareness of the human self and controlling the more animalistic impulses. Wolfsbane is not self-discipline in a bottle. The lycanthrope must make a mental effort and make choices about his or her own behavior when transformed."

"Very good, Miss Granger. Now, if you will address the reason for the ingredients."

"The first ingredient is distilled water with a new moon charge," she continued. "Distilled water is necessary because of the sensitivity of the other ingredients. The minerals in straight tap water could interfere with the active ingredients in the ginseng and damson fly wings in the first stage and bitterroot in the second. The new moon charge is needed to provide balance to the power of the full moon, dampening some of the aggressive impulses."

"How can the new moon charge counteract the extreme effect of the full moon?" asked Professor Snape.

"It cannot counteract it, only dampen it. I believe there was a study to this effect in the 1960's. I don't remember the exact citation, but I think it was published in _Ars Alchemica_. The study was conducted in Germany where a family of lycanthropes was incarcerated during the full moon period. One month, the family was given uncharged distilled water and the next given new moon charged distilled water to drink. This was repeated over a year. A count was kept of all aggressive acts the subjects engaged in while transformed. There were fewer and less severe acts of aggression when they were given the new moon charged water. The difference was at a statistically significant level."

Professor Snape nodded. "You may go onto the next ingredient."

"Korean enchanted ginseng is standard ginseng, cultivated with charms to enhance effectiveness of the active ingredients, allowing it to be used for treating magical maladies. The RG1 ginsenosides found in Korean ginseng are more stimulating and mentally rousing than the RB1 ginsenosides found in American ginseng, which tend to have a sedative effect. I believe you chose this ingredient to enhance alertness and focus."

"Correct. In addition, the RG1 Ginsenosides are not metabolized as quickly as the RB1 ginsenosides. This results in a more sustained level of alertness."

Hermione wrote that down into her notes.

"Professor, the RG1 ginsenosides enhance Yang, rather than Yin energy. Wouldn't this be a down side to selecting the Korean enchanted ginseng?"

"It would," replied Professor Snape, "Except that the valerian enhances the Yin energy, which balances the effect of the RG1 ginsenosides. What is the effect of the kava kava?"

"Kava kava is a relaxant, able to induce strong calmative feelings while improving mental function and sharpening the senses. The calming effect is the result of selective neurotropic action on higher brain centers, which suppress and regulate the autonomic nervous system."

And so they continued.

---------------

Hermione poured the cooled potion base into four jars and sealed the lids. She applied the labels she had prepared onto the containers and put them in the cool storage cabinet. She looked at Professor Snape who was writing in a notebook at the lab table. They'd just spent the best part of five hours in companionable conversation and comfortable silences. It was the most enjoyable educational experience Hermione could ever remember.

Professor Snape had guided her through the creation of the Wolfsbane base by asking her questions. Skillful questions, probing what she knew and what she understood about the ingredients and the processes that went into the very creation of the potion. The man who invented Wolfsbane took Hermione through the paths his own mind had taken in the process of developing one of the most important potions of the twentieth century.

He actually let Hermione ask questions. In class, he'd taken away House points or told her she was annoying him. In the cellar potions lab with no audience, he'd answered every question she had, told her where she could research the answer, or quizzed her until she figured out the solution.

Hermione smiled and nodded to herself. 'Professor Snape is brilliant and this is wonderful.'

Hermione walked over to the lab table and checked her list of questions to research. The Wolfsbane potion was the most complex she'd ever studied. The potion used magical and non-magical ingredients. The preparation of each ingredient required exacting precision. The vervain had to be dried and ground with a marble pestle and mortar to a fine powder. The kava kava root had to be fresh and sliced into slivers with a stainless steel blade on an oak board. The enchanted ginseng had to be cut with an obsidian knife in order to preserve the magical qualities of the root.

Arithmancy required ingredients be added in a specific order with charms applied at different stages of the brewing to continually bring the numerological totals to the prime number of seven. Seven was critical because it could go four times into twenty-eight, the number of days in the moon cycle. Crystals were added at different stages and removed to bring the vibrational levels back to seven when a new ingredient would otherwise throw it off.

'This is amazing and Professor Snape is bloody brilliant,' she thought.

The man who invented this incredible potion allowed her to walk with him step-by-step through the process, through his thinking, and allowed her to help.

"Miss Granger, the potion must be finished on September 3rd since the three days of the full moon begin on the 5th. Your term does not end until September 3rd, so I will finish it this time. According to the lunar calendar the full moon arrives on a weekend in October. If you can return on October 3rd, I can take you through the second stage of preparation." Professor Snape looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione pulled out a day planner and entered the notation on the calendar. "It's on my calendar, sir." Hermione looked up at the Professor. "It's going to be a while before there's any possibility of preparing Wolfsbane on my own. This is so complicated, it makes my head spin."

Snape quirked the barest hint of a smile. "I was four years a Potions Master before I began working on developing Wolfsbane. I was nine years a Potions Master before I achieved a potion that worked. It is a Master level potion, but I believe you will be able to learn to prepare it within a few repetitions."

"Was today what an apprenticeship is like?" asked Hermione, looking at him quizzingly.

"Yes. It is very like what my apprenticeship was like," answered Snape.

"I am missing something by virtue of going to college instead of having an apprenticeship," said Hermione emphatically.

"Yes, but you also gain something. When you return to England after completing your training, you will know more about Muggle science than any Potions Master in the country. We cannot predict how valuable it will be, but I suspect it will be very useful. The training I provide will supplement it and in many ways will be an informal apprenticeship. You may very well have the best of both worlds."

"I really enjoyed today, sir. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Miss Granger. Lupin will get the potion he requires, I saved a good deal of time by having you prepare some of the ingredients for the base, and you gave the cauldron a good cleaning. I believe you call it a win-win situation."

"I certainly do."

"In that case, I will expect your services when you return for the week between the end of your computer class and the beginning of the new term. I will need several cauldrons of Pepper-Up and Dreamless Sleep for the school. While you are preparing those, it will free me to do research. I did warn you that there is menial work involved."

Hermione laughed. "I'll take the menial work. The payoff has been pretty good so far."

"In that case, I suggest you return to the Burrow so you may see your adopted family before returning to the campus. By the way, how do you adapt to the time change?"

"I stay up until about 8:30 Chicago time and practice relaxation techniques to help me fall asleep," answered Hermione, "It takes two days for my body to adjust."

"Good plan," said Severus, "It is wise to leave sleep potions alone if you possibly can. I am confident the rest of your class shall go well. I expect to see you in a few weeks."

Hermione started up the stairs. She turned back for a moment.

"Please be careful, sir."

"I am always careful, Miss Granger."

'He really does have gorgeous hands,' she thought, smiling softly, 'Tall isn't bad either."

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Author's notes

By the way, the RG1 ginsenosides in Korean ginseng and RB1 ginsenosides in American ginseng referred to in the story are real. They do have the properties described, but unfortunately the enchanted versions are not available to those of us without access to wizarding apothecaries or health food stores. I fear these will not actually address anyone's lycanthropy issues nearly as well as they do in the story.

Many thanks for the encouragement and lively discussions I have had with _Looking for Magic's_ reviewers. They are: Karen Detroit, Joani-the-unique-being, JenMart01, Severus Fan, Ccrawley10, Duj, Megan Conseor, Raven2K4, Siren34, Droxy, Latinachikita, Evil Mastermind 666, Snapedreamer, SiriuslyBlack04, Lady Rhian, Vennela, Rinny08, and Aldara.


	30. Chapter 30

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Once again, thanks to Julia and Amrun for making this a better story.

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Severus, September 5, 1998

Hermione Granger was busy restocking the shelves in the supply room off the Potions classroom. Severus wished he could have her do one of those computerized inventories for the Hogwarts' supplies in the same way she had done for the Order's Potions lab. He had been surprised and pleased with the neatly typed tables containing rows of ingredients and columns for date the item entered the inventory, current quantity, quantity used, quality and expiration date. Granger told him she had sought advice from a Senior Charms student on how to charm the forms so that when a quantity used number was entered, it automatically subtracted itself from the quantity listed, showing the current quantity in inventory. She charmed each row so if there were an expiration date on the ingredient, the row would glow if the expiration date passed.

Severus wished he had thought of doing that.

Granger was working on handwritten inventory sheets for Hogwarts, but it would take her a good deal longer to complete than the computerized forms for headquarters. The forms would not be quite as readable, given they would be charmed to show Professor Snape's handwriting rather than hers. They would be charmed in the same way as the computerized forms to calculate the current quantity and to show when an expiration date had been exceeded.

His only regret was it would make detention easier for whatever miscreants he chose to have clean the storage room next term.

Severus had been granted Albus' permission to bring Granger to Hogwarts to do the work. She could not be seen anywhere near the dungeons or the Potions Master in case of informants, so she flooed directly to the Headmaster's office. Flooing into Hogwarts was only possible when the Headmaster authorized the castle to allow flooing into his fireplace. From there, she had flooed into Severus' sitting room, where he quickly ushered her into the classroom.

It was improper for Granger to be in the Potions Master's quarters to begin with and he was uncomfortable with having her in his personal space. Left on her own, he suspected his bookshelves would be thoroughly inspected and it would not do to have Granger nosing about some of the more disreputable volumes. Severus much preferred the contents of his private quarters to remain a much speculated about mystery to the general public, and especially Potter and Weasley. As an extra precaution, Potter loaned Granger his infamous invisibility cloak in case it was needed for moving about the castle.

He had to admit their informal apprenticeship arrangement was working out to his advantage. In the time spent in Hermione Granger's company, he had not experienced a desire to kill her even once.

Clearly, she took her responsibilities seriously. She did not complain about being given the clean-up chores. When she was done, his inventory would be in the best shape it had ever been and would be much easier to maintain. As a reward for her hard work, Severus had allowed her to brew a six-month supply of Pepper-Up potion for the infirmary, a chore that bored him to death. Granger had even thanked him for allowing her to do it. He had an extensive mental list of potions he was sick of making in mass quantities for the infirmary, any of which could be used as a reward for Granger.

One must be grateful for the little satisfactions in life.

Then, there were the discussions about Wolfsbane. Granger had indulged herself with in-depth research on all aspects of the potion and was quite insightful about his reasoning behind the choice of each ingredient and the processes for incorporating them into the potion.

Severus had presented papers about Wolfsbane at various Potions' symposiums over the years, which naturally resulted in being interviewed about it by participants. Those discussions were with fellow Potions Masters or at least technicians with some experience. Discussing it with a student was different. Sitting with Granger and talking about it in minute detail was thoroughly enjoyable. She asked excellent questions and responded well to Severus coaching her into figuring out the answers to most of them.

She had an impeccable sense of logic, an encyclopedia of information in that brain of hers, and a capacity for intuitive leaps. She behaved as if she were genuinely intrigued by each step he took in the process of developing the potion from the initial idea to final product, as though the workings of his mind were as fascinating as the potion itself.

Severus was unsure of what to make of that, so he stored it away for future reference.

His thoughts drifted to his research on Voldemort's physical condition. Grateful that term had not yet started and that he could delegate busy work to Granger, he had spent hours researching the Bone, Flesh, and Blood spell that had created Voldemort's physical body. There was little written about it in the Dark Arts books Severus held in his personal collection and even less in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library.

What he had found consisted of how to perform the ritual with scarcely any mention of the long-term effects of living in a spell-constructed body. He did find one anecdotal report of a fourteenth century wizard who used the ritual to replace his own palsy-ridden body with a new one. His life span after the ritual was thirty-two years. It did not specify how he died or his physical condition, but this was an unusually short life span for a wizard. It could be indicative of defects in the new body, ultimately fatal defects.

Severus decided to ask Lucius if he could examine some texts in the library at Malfoy Manor. Lucius had tomes Severus would never have dared bring into Hogwarts. The wards, not to mention the Headmaster, would have screamed bloody murder.

Severus still did not know the significance of the magical clover. A possibility he had not initially considered was that Nagini might be protecting a clutch of eggs. She may not be of one of the New Zealand species, but if the magical protection provided by the clover could benefit other magical snakes, Voldemort would certainly try to obtain some to protect his familiar's future offspring.

Whatever Voldemort had done to himself to achieve his immortality seemed tied to Nagini. He was dependent on his familiar for a venomous form of milk. If he needed it to survive, he would need Nagini's descendents. Perhaps the effect of Nagini's milk was waning or Voldemort needed increasing amounts of it, resulting in a need for more or new snakes.

The evidence, what bits and pieces of it Severus had, kept pointing in the direction of Voldemort experiencing a physical problem. Whatever the problem was, Voldemort would be highly motivated to keep anyone beyond Pettigrew from knowing what it was. Severus had not been asked to brew any medicinal potions for the Dark Lord in months. If Voldemort was treating himself he must be brewing the potions himself or using Pettigrew, unless the problem could be addressed through commercially available potions. Voldemort had access to healers who were Death Eaters and could get him any prescription potion he wanted, it seemed unlikely that standard medicinal potions would be appropriate for a being that seemed to be morphing into a snake.

The possibility that Voldemort was brewing sent Severus to the old school records to determine the level of potion's making capability Tom Riddle and Peter Pettigrew displayed while still at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle attended during the 1940's and his Potions grades and NEWTs scores were excellent. Based on that, he should be capable of brewing most potions other than those requiring advanced training. Severus could not dismiss the possibility that Riddle had obtained advanced training somewhere after graduation or had taught himself through research, trial, and error.

Pettigrew's grades and OWLs were average. Severus recalled that Wormtail never took any Potions classes after Fifth Year. Pettigrew should be capable of preparing basic potions, but nothing more than that. Having spent most of his years between Hogwarts and the current time masquerading as the Weasley family's pet rat Scabbers, Severus doubted Pettigrew had picked up any advanced training.

Severus concluded that Voldemort was probably preparing his own medicinal potions, possibly even developing them for himself as his unique physiology demanded. This made it all the more difficult to determine what was wrong with him and how this could be used to the Order's advantage. Severus considered a possibility, rose and walked over to the storage room.

"Miss Granger, may I speak to you a moment?"

"Of course, sir." Hermione looked up from the inventory form she was filling out. She set aside the parchment and quill and looked attentive.

"I am in need of assistance in identifying potions that utilize magical snakes for ingredients, whether a component of the snake or a product of the snake's body. Would Avalon College have a computer program that could do this?"

"Within some limitations, there is a computer program at Avalon that could do it," said Hermione. "Thousands of potions are in a database, including ingredients, directions for preparation, uses, and contraindications. I could run a sort based on ingredients and come up with a list for you. The limitation is that there are many potions, especially Dark Arts potions, that would not be in the database."

"It would still be a start. Most Dark Arts potions are based on more innocuous ones. I might see something that would trigger a memory or at least send me in the right direction," mused Severus.

"Still snakes, sir?" Hermione smiled and then shook her head regretfully. "I understand. Need to know and all that."

"Precisely so, Miss Granger," Severus quirked an eyebrow, "Therefore, I am unable to indulge your curiosity. However, you could indulge mine. What other computer programs does Avalon College have that might be useful in our circumstances?"

"Several, Professor." Hermione's eyes moved up and to the right as she searched for the information. "There's a Charms program that has somewhere around eight thousand spells in it. It's capable of sorting by words or wand movements and you can run a search for spells of a certain kind. For example, if you needed levitation spells, it would produce a list for you. You select one of them from the list and it shows you directions for casting the spell, what it can be used for, a counter-curse if applicable, and a list of similar spells. Again, there's a restriction against including any Dark spells in the database."

"There is a program for Transfiguration where you enter the information about the object and what you want to turn it in to. The program takes you to the directions for transfiguration, including the charm and wand movements. The Runes program does the same kind of thing. You can enter the name of the rune or scan a photo of the rune and the program will take you to the information about it, how it works, the etiology, interpretation, interactions with other runes."

"The Arithmancy program will do the actual calculations and provide interpretations of numerical values. The Astronomy program is actually a Muggle created program. You can pick any date in history or the future and it will show you a star map. The associated Astrology program can show interpretations of the star map as it applies to any individual or group with a fairly definite starting date. Muggle's have an excellent understanding of astronomy and are amazingly skilled in astrology."

"What? No Divination program?" asked Severus dryly.

Hermione laughed. "Apparently American wizards feel the way I do about Divination. I think most of it is rubbish."

"You doubt the Trelawney prophecies?"

"She made one prophecy about a child born at the end of July in 1980 who would take on the Dark Lord. As near as I can tell, she built a career on one prophecy."

"And what of the second part of the prophecy?"

"The jury is still out on that one, isn't it? I know the Headmaster places great stock in it," Hermione frowned, "but it practically ruined Harry's childhood and it absolutely haunts him. The Dark Lord targeted him because of it."

She looked at the Professor intently. "What if it is true? Wouldn't Harry be better off if the prophecy had never been made? He's been raised to be a Dark Lord killing machine and there are times when he feels he's good for nothing else. He's got an absolute love/hate relationship with the Headmaster because of it. I don't think anyone could convince me Harry is better off for knowing if he has some horrible fate or great destiny ahead of him."

This young woman had the capacity to surprise Severus. He had thought the same thing himself.

"Whether or not the prophecy is true is irrelevant, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord has targeted Mr. Potter ever since he was knocked out of Professor Quirrell's body in their fight for the Philosopher's Stone. He would seek him out for vengeance if for nothing else. I agree that Potter would probably be better off if he did not have this endless pressure to be the wizarding world's savior."

Hermione nodded, looking at him thoughtfully.

Severus looked down at her. He realized her brown eyes had flecks of gold in them and were framed in long dark lashes. Suddenly uncomfortable, he decided he was hungry.

"It is time for lunch. I will summon a house elf and request food be brought here. Is there anything you feel sentimental about, Miss Granger?"

"An omelet, sir. They make the very best omelets with cheese, mushrooms, and ham."

"A very good choice, though I would recommend adding onions and peppers. How would you season it?"

"Keep it simple, a little white pepper while scrambling the eggs and no salt until the omelet is almost cooked through. Any sooner and the salt will toughen the eggs."

"I agree. A bit of parsley adds a bit of color, but using yellow and red peppers accomplish the same thing. Do you prepare the eggs with milk or water?"

"One teaspoon of water for each egg. It thins the mixture and makes for a firm omelet that holds together better. Milk is fine for basic scrambled eggs, if one prefers them creamy."

"And what kind of cheese?"

"I prefer Swiss cheese, but that is a personal preference. The traditional omelet calls for cheddar."

"I enjoy it both ways. If I am feeling adventurous, I will add just a touch of blue cheese to the omelet to give it bite."

"I'd never considered that. It sounds good."

"Will you permit me to order on your behalf?"

"Certainly, sir. I'm feeling adventurous."

Severus summoned an elf. A very young elf called Mirvin arrived.

"My guest and I would like two omelets. Please prepare the eggs with water and a pinch of white pepper. We will have chopped ham, mushrooms," Severus looked at Hermione and she nodded, "chopped sweet peppers, onions, and Swiss cheese with just a hint of blue cheese. Salt them lightly after the eggs are cooked. We will have wheat toast, fresh fruit, and tea if you please."

"Mervin is pleased to bring the Professor's order. Will be back in a few minutes, Professor sir and ma'am." Mirvin disappeared.

Severus sat down across from Hermione. "What has Draco been up to lately?"

"Studying, for the most part," answered Hermione. "He was pretty diligent throughout computer camp, but we were having fun learning. It was like having an expensive new toy to play with."

"Draco is intelligent, but does not always apply himself to achieve his full potential. He did well at Hogwarts, but if he had chosen to work anywhere near as hard as you did he would have given you real competition for first in class."

"He isn't as obsessive as I am about work. He wants more balance in his life, like with the time he spends with Anita. When we both arrived at Avalon, we spent a lot of time together with being in the same class all day. This autumn, I'll only have one class with him, Physics 101. With homework and studying, we won't see each other nearly as much."

"That is probably just as well. The two of you have established a new basis for your relationship, this time a friendly one. We will see where it goes from there, but too much time in each other's company would likely attract more attention to you than is desirable."

"I suspect what spare time Draco has will be spent with Anita, especially since they are both in the Charms program."

Severus decided to sidestep the issue of Draco's new girlfriend. "What classes are you taking?"

Mirvin reappeared with a tray of food. The elf placed omelets before each of them, along with toast and sliced fresh fruits. Hermione took the pot of tea and poured for herself and the Professor.

"I'll be taking Potions 102, Chemistry 101, Physics 101, Calculus 101, and World History 102."

"Three science, one mathematics, and a history class? You will be busy, Miss Granger."

"With testing out of the entry level classes, I have to catch up on Muggle science and math. Fortunately, Arithmancy taught me algebra and geometry or I'd have to take that before calculus. I am looking forward to taking a history class from someone other than Professor Binns. With all due respect, I've learned enough about the Goblin Wars."

Hermione took another bite of the omelet. "You were right about the blue cheese. It's barely noticeable, just a bit of sharpness."

"It balances the sweetness from the onions and peppers."

"Creating a medicinal potion is like that, isn't it sir?" observed Hermione, "Finding the correct ingredients and processes that will bring the body back into harmony. Providing what is missing to achieve the balance."

"It is the key to any medicinal potion I can think of. A healer can determine exactly which of the systems of the body are out of balance, but it takes the developer of the potion to determine what must go into it to regain normal balance."

"Professor, what made you decide that the twenty-eight day moon cycle was the critical factor in Wolfsbane?"

"Initially, I thought the length of time from moon rise to moon set was Arithmantically significant. I spent the best part of a year experimenting with that before I concluded it was not what I was looking for."

And the discussion continued from there.

--------------

Bill Weasley joined them at 5 pm. The inventory for the storeroom was completed and Hermione was assembling the ingredients used in a potion for treating migraines. Tomorrow, Hermione would go to the Order's headquarters and prepare a three-month supply for the infirmary. Severus had assigned it to her as a reward for completing the inventory. He regretted that the shelf life was only three months; otherwise he would have had her do a six-month supply. Perhaps over the Yule holiday, he could have her make more and save himself another evening's work.

Shortly, the three of them would leave Hogwarts to meet Potter and Weasley at the Order's Headquarters. A meeting was scheduled so Hermione could tell them about Draco's presence at Avalon College. Severus was looking forward to seeing the look on their faces when they learned their old school nemesis and their best friend were living a few doors apart in the dormitory and regularly ate and studied together. The temptation to rub their Gryffindor noses in it would be almost irresistible. He supposed having Bill and Remus there would moderate that temptation.

Severus picked up the box containing the Reducioed ingredients and the vials to store them in. Hermione picked up the invisibility cloak and followed him into the classroom where Bill was waiting.

"So, have you got Professor Snape's inventory all worked out?"

"There was nothing amiss with the inventory; I just switched it over to a new form for tracking it. How are things going with overhauling the DADA curriculum?" asked Hermione.

"I have it sketched out for all seven years. Merlin help me, Severus. I don't know how you do it. There's so much material to go over and seven different levels. How do you keep it organized?" asked Bill, desperation in his voice.

"Practice," answered Severus with a smirk, "By the time you hit five years, you fall into a rhythm."

"It takes five years?" Bill blanched. "I won't survive five years. I'll forget that I taught the Sixth Years how to break through a shield and in one dueling practice I'll be the ninth DADA instructor to self-destruct in as many years."

"Actually, you'll be the tenth if you count Mad-Eye Moody and Barty Crouch, Junior as two separate individuals" interrupted Hermione cheerfully. "The tally goes up to eleven if you also count Professor Quirrell and the Dark Lord on the back of his head as two people."

She put her hands on her hips. "I'm seeing an alarming trend here, Professor Snape. Has Professor Weasley been thoroughly checked to make sure he doesn't have any parasites?"

Bill and Severus looked at Hermione, looked at each other, and burst into laughter.

"It's good to have the support of your friends, Weasley."

"As soon as I find some friends, I'm sure I'll have their support, Snape."

Hermione threw the cloak over her shoulders, pulled the hood up, and followed the two men out of the castle. Once outside of the gates, the three apparated to the London headquarters. Hermione pulled off the cloak and followed Bill towards the townhouse with Severus bringing up the rear. Remus was in the kitchen making tea, while Dobby appeared to be magically preparing a meal.

'Teabags again,' thought Severus, disgusted. 'I have to get a box of loose tea and when I do, I will charm it so no one else can open it. I will be damned if I will share it with people who have no appreciation for a proper cup of tea.'

"Dobby, there will be six of us for dinner tonight so we'll eat in the dining room," said Remus. "We'll be in the parlor. Please be sure to tell Harry and Ron to join us there when they arrive."

Remus nodded to the three and took the tray of tea paraphernalia into the parlor. Severus claimed his spot on the sofa and stretched out his long legs so no one else could sit right next to him. Remus took his rocking chair as Bill and Hermione took the wing back chairs.

"Harry and Ron have been running twelve hour days in boot camp, so they usually get here a little after six. Officially, Ron is living at the Burrow, but he's here most of the week," said Remus.

"How much longer do they have in boot camp?" asked Bill.

"Two more weeks, I think," answered Remus. "After that, they have half days in class and the other half on patrol with senior Auror partners." Remus looked at Hermione. "I don't think I'm telling tales out of turn when I say that boot camp has been good for both of them. They are learning how to manage their time and they are too tired at the end of the day to get into trouble."

"If we had known that is what it took to keep those two out of mischief, I could have arranged for them to do calisthenics in between classes," snarked Severus. "Imagine the obstacle course we could create in the hallways."

"You could bring back the giant wizarding chess pieces for a start," suggested Hermione, "Then students could play dodge the white king."

"Followed by chase the student with Fluffy," added Remus.

"What? No basilisk?" asked Bill.

"Not enough parselmouths to have a basilisk," retorted Severus. "Perhaps some Devil's Snare?"

"You need to do another logic puzzle, Professor Snape. The flames were very effective, really got our attention," teased Hermione.

"It took me hours to create that logic puzzle and minutes for you to solve it, Miss Granger." Severus quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Muggleborns have an advantage there. We do them in Primary School."

Noise came from the kitchen, followed by the sight of Harry and Ron stomping into the parlor still in their red apprentice Auror uniforms. Severus watched as Hermione rose from the chair to move into a three person hug with her two friends.

The three were so different, he observed. Ronald Weasley had grown into a tall young man with broad shoulders and a muscular build and that shock of carrot hair. The older he got, the more the youngest of the Weasley boys looked like his oldest brother.

Then there was Harry Potter, average height and still slight even after Hogwarts meals. Boot camp had built him up. There was more muscle in those shoulders and arms than there had been at Hogwarts. His face and hair were pure James Potter, but his green eyes were Lily through and through.

Last, but not least was Hermione Granger. Her hair was in a snood again, pulled back from her face. She had such delicate features. No one would call her beautiful, but she had delicate prettiness. Such small things could make her happy; bring that glowing smile to her face Severus had seen a few times. Hermione was a few inches shorter than Potter. She had been such a tiny thing when she arrived at Hogwarts and flat as a washboard. Now she stood there with her friends with curves that arrived while he had not been looking.

Not that he would have looked. A teacher just did not look at a student in that way. She had changed her appearance over the summer. It was not just her hair, but the way she dressed, the way she carried herself. There was a quiet maturity about her. She had transitioned into an adult somewhere in the last year.

Of course, the loss of her family had propelled her into adult responsibilities faster than time alone would have done. She was….interesting. She was worthwhile, intelligent, and interesting.

Severus sat up straight and coughed. He took a sip of his tea and refocused himself. There was important business to discuss tonight and here he was thinking that somewhere along the line, Hermione Granger acquired breasts. Ahem.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," said Ron. "Hi, Bill. I hope you'll excuse us while we clean up. Can't speak for Harry, but I'm sweaty and need a shower rather badly."

"We ran five miles today. My feet are killing me," complained Harry. "Hello, Professors."

"By all means, clean up," urged Remus, "We'll be having dinner soon and I'd rather smell the food than the two of you."

"Charming as always, Lupin," sniped Severus.

"Stuff it, Severus," said Remus with a grin.

Ron looked at the two, shook his head and gave a mock frown. "And you talk about us not growing up."

Twenty-five minutes later, Harry and Ron returned with hair still damp from showers in their standard off-duty jeans and t-shirts. Dobby had set the table in the dining room and the group adjourned to their meal.

The house elf had outdone himself, making a special effort because of having company tonight. Dobby remembered Professor Snape's and Master Lupin's preference for beef and fixed an excellent roast. Ron's intense love of mashed potatoes was indulged. Professor Weasley favored the homemade bread. There was a great bowl of gingered carrots, popular with everyone. Miss Hermione was partial to chocolate, so there was mousse for afters. And for Harry Potter, well Harry liked just about anything as long as it wasn't stewed tomatoes.

Dinner conversation stayed with subjects unlikely to provoke violent disagreement. There was extensive discussion of Madame Bones' efforts to reform the Ministry, the inadequate and biased reporting from the Daily Prophet, and whether or not Italy had a shot at capturing the Quidditch World Cup. Since Severus had box seats at the last World Cup and got to see the Italian team play, courtesy of his poker winnings from last autumn, he had much to say on the subject.

As the meal wound down and everyone was at the point of groaning due to overstuffing themselves or was playing with the last of the mousse, Remus took the lead and brought up the subject of the evening.

"Although the contingent present for tonight's dinner may have seemed a happy coincidence, there is a reason I arranged for the five of you to be here. At the beginning of the summer, Hermione discovered there was a second former Hogwarts student attending Avalon College. At the request of the Headmaster, this information was withheld from all but a few select Order members. Now that the summer class is over and we know the student will be returning in the autumn, I feel we should discuss what Hermione has learned."

Ron turned to Hermione in surprise. "What other student, Hermione?" he asked amiably.

"Draco Malfoy."

Severus observed a moment of dead silence, followed by uproar from two very loud and angry apprentice Aurors.

"What the hell is that bloody Death Eater trainee doing there?" raged Potter.

"He's studying Charms and I don't believe he's a Death Eater trainee," said Hermione firmly.

"And he's living where?" asked Weasley, suspicion all over his face.

"Down the hall from me." There was more reluctance in her voice that time.

Weasley looked at Remus, horrified. "You let her stay in that dormitory with Draco Malfoy? Why not just give Vol…."

Severus coughed to interrupt.

Weasley glared at him. "Why not just give the _Dark Lord_ her room number so he can come get her personally?"

Potter was practically crackling with magic as he yelled at Remus. "They got her family last year and all of you were willing to take a risk with her this year? I thought we agreed the whole point of Hermione going to Avalon was to KEEP HER SAFE and get her out of this for a while."

Bill interrupted. "Harry, that is not exactly…."

Young Weasley interrupted, "It is too, Bill. We talked about it when Mum and Dad offered Hermione a place to live. You saw what kind of shape she was in for a while. You agreed it was the right thing to do." Ron turned and glared at Severus again. "Don't you just sit there looking innocent, Bill said you agreed. What's more, you knew about Malfoy ahead of time, didn't you? "

Severus never had a chance to respond.

Hermione slapped her hands down on the table, making the teacups bounce and rattle in their saucers. "That is _enough_. Ron, stop glaring at Professor Snape. Harry, you will stop yelling at Remus _this instant_. You will both calm down right now and explain to me what you mean by _we agreed_ the whole point of my going to Avalon was to keep me safe. I thought the point of my going to Avalon was _my decision_ to get an education."

The two young men looked at Hermione and then at each other.

Weasley looked sheepish. Potter looked embarrassed.

'Minerva could not have done a better job of dressing them down than Granger just did,' thought Severus.

Weasley started. "Well, you know, we erm…"

Potter took up the slack. "What Ron means is we did some talking. That's right, we _all_ did some talking." He looked meaningfully around the table.

Weasley continued. "We talked a bit about, erm. You know. How you were doing and all."

'Eloquent. So very eloquent, those two,' mused Severus

Potter took over. "It's just that Ron and I are tied up with Auror's training."

Weasley added to the confusion. "Even with you living with Mum and Dad."

Potter again. "We knew you'd be safer. If you'd taken up Professor McGonagall's offer of a Transfiguration apprenticeship, you could've stayed at Hogwarts."

Weasley's turn. "But you insisted on Potions, even though you knew."

Potter. "So going to America made sense, especially if Ron and I weren't going to be around much."

She must have figured out what they were talking about because Granger looked like she had quite enough.

"So the two of you encouraged me to go, not because it was what I wanted, not because I could get the education I've got to have if I'm going to have the career I want, not because I can be trusted to manage my own life reasonably well, but because you two weren't going to be around enough to stand guard over me?"

Potter looked surprised. "Wait a minute, Hermione. How did this change from what the hell is Draco Malfoy doing at Avalon to how Ron and I are trying to run your life?"

"I believe the two of you changed the subject somewhere along the way when you started ranting about how everyone else was supposed to be responsible for me. That everyone else met and decided what was best for me." Hermione looked around the table suspiciously. "Why do I have a feeling that more than just Harry and Ron were at this meeting?"

Severus kept his face carefully neutral.

Remus swallowed and looked guilty.

Bill was examining his teacup in great detail.

'Gryffindors,' thought Severus, 'cannot act worth a damn.'

"Hermione," said Remus, leaning forward with a very sincere look on his face.

'He is going to try and placate her. This should be good,' thought Severus.

"Hermione," he repeated, "It wasn't exactly a meeting. We started talking after the funeral."

"I believe I was there and I don't remember any conversation about my future after the funeral," replied Hermione suspiciously.

"You were worn out," Remus said soothingly.

"You were sitting between me and Dad and fell asleep," explained Ron.

"It wasn't like we actually decided anything," added Harry.

"You had already said you wanted to go to the college," said Remus. "Professor Snape had visited the campus and determined it was reasonably safe."

'You could have left my name out of this one, Remus,' thought Severus.

"Mum and Dad were there. So were the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall,' said Ron, "along with Remus and Tonks. We just agreed to help you get to the college if you still wanted to go."

"You all agreed to 'help me'?" quizzed Hermione

"Well, maybe encourage you a bit," confessed Ron. "We just thought you should get out of all of this for a while."

"You already had enough stress," admitted Remus. "Getting you away from this war seemed a good idea."

"Enough to encourage me to enter a _six-year_ program? You thought it would take me six years to get back to where I could manage my life?" Hermione looked distressed.

"No one thought that, Hermione," soothed Bill.

'I should stay out of this,' thought Severus. 'There is no reason to rescue the others. After all, I was not at the funeral and it is not my hide she is after.'

His conscience began to prickle as his thoughts turned to her distress. 'There is no reason to let her continue to feel badly about her friend's interference when her friends were quite right to interfere.'

"Miss Granger," Severus said softly, knowing it was the best way to get her attention, "I do not think anyone believes you need constant protection."

Hermione looked up at him, her consternation reflected in her furrowed brow.

"However, last autumn you were quite fragile. As I recall from what Molly said, you were not eating, not sleeping properly, and overwhelmed with guilt," added Severus.

She was listening to him and Severus could see he was getting through to her.

"Your friends were deeply concerned about your well-being and knew you had a difficult time ahead. You had to go back into the house where your parents had just been murdered and prepare it for sale. There were legal issues to resolve. It was not the best of times for you to make plans for your future, but the future would not wait long for you to decide."

Severus waved his hand to the others sitting at the table. "Your friends already knew you planned to go to Avalon College. I had visited and felt it was safe for both you and Draco Malfoy."

Harry's head jerked up at that statement. Severus shot him a warning look to silence him.

"Your friends decided to encourage you to go for _many_ reasons, not the least of which was that they care deeply for you. I agree with and fully support their decision. Of the options you had at the time and still have now, it is your best opportunity to get the training necessary to achieve the career you desire."

"As regards Draco Malfoy, it also provides Hermione with an opportunity to serve the Order, as she has sworn to do." Severus looked intently at Potter and Weasley. "As you both have sworn to do. The Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin were all aware before I visited the campus that I was looking it on behalf of both Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy. It was and is in the best interest of any student to stay out of the Death Eaters. Getting Draco Malfoy out of the country keeps him out of the Death Eaters. In the time Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy participated in the summer class at the college, they have established a level of rapport, which is in the best interest of the Order to maintain." He looked at Granger. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"

Granger was looking at Potter and Weasley. The change of topic strategy appeared to be working.

"I saw Draco in the dormitory on the Sunday before the summer term started. I didn't know he was going to be there and I panicked. I portkeyed back to the Burrow and told Arthur and Molly, who flooed the Headmaster."

"As it happens," interrupted Severus, "I was meeting with the Headmaster at the time and he sent me through to discuss the situation with Miss Granger and the Weasleys. I explained to them that the senior members of the Order were aware that Draco Malfoy would be attending the college and deliberately withheld the information from her so her reaction would be genuine."

"It seems I can't act." Hermione gave him a rueful smile.

"No, Hermione. You really can't," added Bill, teasing.

Severus continued, "I explained the situation and Miss Granger agreed to help."

"Well, you haven't explained the situation to us, Professor," challenged Potter, "What is going on with Malfoy?"

"There are things I cannot tell you," answered Severus. "Suffice it to say there are very good reasons for Malfoy to leave the country. Can you think of any scenarios where it would be to the advantage of the Order to have the gratitude of Lucius Malfoy?"

'I'm getting this feeling of déjà vu,' thought Hermione, 'isn't this how he talked me into helping Draco in the first place?'

"I can't think of many," answered Harry sarcastically, not taking the bait. "Besides, Draco Malfoy harassed Hermione while we were in school. Why would this change?"

"Because Malfoy isn't in the same circumstances he was in while we were at Hogwarts," answered Granger, "At Avalon, he's not around people who expect him to behave like Lucius Malfoy, Junior. He doesn't have to worry that the children of Death Eaters will report him if he spouts anything other than the Dark Lord's propaganda. Get him away from all that and he's still arrogant and a snob, but he's not malicious."

"How would you know?" asked Weasley.

"Because I've spent time with him. We took the same computer class that met for six hours a day for six weeks. Along with a few other students from the dorm, we took our meals together. He's got a mixed blood girlfriend now. I told you about how Anita Schuler and I have become friends? They're dating and she says he's charming and has been as much of a gentleman as she wanted him to be."

Severus detected a bit of blush.

"How do you know he's not just acting?" demanded Potter. "He's spent the last seven years taking lessons from his Head of House, who we all know is one bloody good actor."

Severus was unsure of whether or not to be offended. He decided he was not when he heard Granger answer.

"Professor Snape is a _bloody good actor_ as you say, Harry," she said sternly. "He wouldn't have survived all this time as a double agent if he wasn't. But I'll bet he didn't leap full blown into being one, did you sir?" asked Hermione, turning to Severus.

Severus opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione continued before he got the chance.

"If Draco Malfoy is strictly putting on an act, then he's been in character eighteen hours a day for the last six weeks. He hasn't slipped up once. Not one _mudblood_ out of him or wisecrack about my teeth, my hair, my Muggleborn status, not one single insult. Except when we are both teasing and we both know it and then it isn't offensive. If the Draco Malfoy I've seen isn't real, then someone's come up with a form of _Imperio_ that lasts for weeks a time."

"So in ten weeks, Draco Malfoy has changed his whole personality and become a wonderful bloke instead of a complete wanker." Ron sounded disgusted.

"No he has not changed his whole personality." Hermione began to tick points off on her fingers. "First, he still has this need to show everyone how rich he is. Second, if there's a mirror or a window in the area, he's preening in it. Third, he still thinks he's God's gift to women everywhere, though he behaves himself since he latched up with Anita. Fourth….."

"What do you mean, God's gift to women?" interrupted Ron, his eyes narrowed. "Did the ferret make a pass at you?"

"Of course not," insisted Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I didn't say he'd developed good taste."

'Ah, a round of laughter to break the tension. Good technique, Miss Granger.' thought Severus. Taking advantage, Severus changed the subject.

"Actually, the two of you pose a greater threat to Miss Granger's safety than does Draco Malfoy," said Severus, rather enjoying the looks of denial worn by Weasley and Potter.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" said Potter looking distinctly unfriendly.

"The Dark Lord does not believe two teenaged males can be friends with a teenaged female," answered Severus, very matter of fact. "He believes your relationship with Miss Granger is based in impropriety."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "He thinks you're in a threesome."

Weasley sputtered first, followed by a gobsmacked Potter spraying the tea he just tried to swallow. Bill got the worst of it, mopping his face and clearing the mess with his wand with a disgusted look on his face.

"It is a good thing you hit Professor Weasley with that and not me, Potter," remarked Severus, "or you would have a fine case of boils right about now. It is a well known fact that unlike myself, Professor Weasley is a nice person."

Severus looked over at Granger, who was clearly enjoying her friends' response. She met Severus' eyes and they shared an amused moment.

"Hermione," said a shocked Potter, "I feel like I ought to be apologizing to you for something, but I'm not sure what."

"I know what you mean, mate," added Ron, "I don't know how anyone could have started a rumor like that."

"There is no rumor to that effect, Mr. Weasley," responded Severus, "except among Death Eaters. Obviously it has no basis in fact and is entirely a figment of the Dark Lord's perverse imagination. Miss Granger is aware of this and I believe your response was a lack of concern about having the good opinion of the Dark Lord."

"You two can't worry about this effecting my reputation," said Hermione. "It is irrelevant outside of the Death Eaters."

"The reason we're telling you this is that if the two of you keep away from Hermione while she's at school, she'll be safer," explained Bill. "The Dark Lord believes you're both using Hermione for, well…. Pardon me Hermione, using Hermione for sex. If you two visit her at school, it will confirm his belief and put Hermione at risk."

"Just who is going to tell the Dark Lord?" asked Harry suspiciously. "Oh, let me guess. Draco Malfoy?"

"Harry," Hermione reached over and put her hand on his, "You have to trust me here. Draco and I have not discussed what role he is expected of him at the school. There are things he and I cannot talk about, but we both seem to understand. He is supposed to be spying on me to determine if I can be used to get to you. If you don't come around while I'm at school, there's nothing for Draco to see, nothing the Dark Lord can pull out of his head. That keeps me safe and keeps Draco out of the action, other than I'm guessing he's supposed to learn about wizarding America as one of the items on the Dark Lord's To Do list. In the meantime, it keeps Draco out of the Death Eaters. Sooner or later when the crucial battle happens, I don't want the two of you having to face him because he's on the wrong side. Please do this for me? I just have a feeling it will pay off."

'Well said, Miss Granger,' thought Severus.

"We seem to be in an in-between time," commented Remus. "Death Eater activity has dropped off, the Dark Lord seems to be biding his time for something and we don't know what that something is. Right now, the two of you," Remus nodded towards Harry and Ron, "need to focus on your training. There are skills the two of you can learn as Aurors that will be invaluable. You'll be better fighters and better investigators. Hermione needs to focus on her studies. She is already contributing by doing research for Professor Snape. Can I rely on everyone's cooperation?"

Weasley and Potter looked at each other, some kind of silent communication between them.

"All right, Remus," said Weasley, "we'll cooperate by staying away from Hermione while she's at school. We know you can pretty much take care of yourself and you're smart about people _most_ of the time."

"You've got Dumbledore's portkey, so if you find yourself in a bad situation promise you'll get yourself out it, Mione," urged Harry. "I'd rather think you'd run than face an outnumbered situation."

"I'll do what makes sense, Harry. I know my limitations and if portkeying out is the right strategy, I'll do it," Hermione assured him.

Severus was relieved to hear her say that. A Slytherin knows when to cut and run, but Gryffindors did not always used good sense in such situations.

"Don't make the mistake of trusting Malfoy, Hermione," urged Harry. "Whatever reason he has for being at Avalon, don't think he won't make use of an opportunity when he finds one. I don't buy that he's reformed from who he was at Hogwarts."

"I only trust him so far, Harry. Don't worry," she said.

"Be careful, Hermione," added Ron.

"I promise, Ron."

-----------

Author's notes

Harry Potter's dislike of stewed tomatoes is not canon. Harry doesn't like stewed tomatoes because the author doesn't like stewed tomatoes.

I have received a number of reviews and e-mails from readers who have talked about the realistic portrayal of Hermione's reaction to the loss of her family. Those of you who have lived through loss know what it is like to deal with grief that waxes and wanes. There are good days, bad days, and often not predictable which kind it is going to be. You think you're fine, you've dealt with it, and then years later the pain comes back all over again. The thoughts that go along with are not always rational and it is easy to believe no one else could possibly understand the obsessive thoughts, guilt, and morbid ponderings.

Believe me, there are people out there who understand. They are among friends you already have, family who know exactly what you are going through, and professionals who have helped many people deal with grief. You don't have to go through it alone and acknowledging pain doesn't make you weak.

If you have a friend who is troubled by their loss, just be there for them. Don't think you have to know the right words to help. There's no such thing as the right words. There is only caring, empathy, and the gift you give to a friend by simply listening.

If you aren't certain where to start, look under the heading _Grief Counselors_ or contact a local hospice organization. There are volunteers and professionals who can help you make the right connection.

Thank you to my reviewers: Bakaongirii, LettyBIRD, flowerpagoda, Droxy, Princessfiona, Siren34, Joani-the-unique-being, Megan Consoer, Meghan, Latinachikita, Rinny08, Duj, Phoenix Flight, Tranquility, Evil Mastermind 666 (we're now on a first name basis), Severus-Fan, and Ccrawley,


	31. Chapter 31

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for stress relief.

Many thanks to Amrun for the grammar lessons and to Julia for helping Hermione and Draco to sound a whole lot more British than I could do on my own.

Warning: Draco and Anita get a bit vulgar. If you dislike lemons, skip the first scene.

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Hermione

September 19, 1998

"Hermione's parents were murdered?" asked Anita, a mixture of shock and horror in her voice. "She didn't tell me that. She said they died last year and I assumed it was an accident of some sort. I should have asked more questions. Talk about feeling like an idiot."

"I don't believe she's told anyone here about it," said Draco. "I'm only telling you because I need your help. Hermione and I weren't exactly friends when we were at Hogwarts."

Anita and Draco were in her room, curled up on the bed Draco had transfigured from a narrow single bed to a double. He was better at temporary transfiguration than Anita, though she was pretty good at long-term spells. The first time he let her change the bed, it reverted to its normal size at a very sensitive moment.

It was a little past midnight and light from the building across the street was streaming into the dormitory room. Draco was lying back against the pillows while Anita lay across him, her chin resting on her hand, which lay against his bare chest. Draco could see her expressive face in the light from the street.

"What do you mean, you weren't friends? The two of you act like you've known each other forever."

"We have known each other forever or at least since we were eleven. But she was Gryffindor and I was Slytherin, she's Muggleborn and I'm Pureblood." He didn't add the thought about 'she's a friend of Harry Potter and I'm the son of a Death Eater.'

Draco shifted and opened his arms, inviting Anita to move up and snuggle. He caught a glimpse of her breasts as she scooted up and laid her head on his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her.

"It doesn't seem like it should make such a big difference, but in wizarding Britain, it does. I would never have admitted it then, but I was shocked at how different she was from all the things I'd ever heard about Muggleborns. She's a powerful witch and smart as they come. There isn't anyone who worked harder in school. I envied her and sometimes I hated her. She didn't match up with any stereotype I'd ever believed, which was difficult for me to reconcile. There's a lot of prejudice against Muggleborns."

"If you thought that way about Hermione, how is it you are getting along over here?"

"It's different here in the colonies. My being a Pureblood doesn't seem to matter much to people. Muggleborn, mixed blood, or whatever doesn't make a difference." Draco stroked Anita's hair, feeling the smooth silky texture as it slipped between his fingers. "Truth to tell, Hermione made the first move, that first night when she invited me to go along with both of you for pizza." He reached under the blanket and stroked the smooth skin of her back. "I'm very, very glad she did."

Anita's lips moved against his chest, nuzzling. Her tongue found his nipple, which kept them both occupied for a moment or two.

"Not to break the mood or anything, but what happened to her parents?" asked Anita as she ran her hand up his side from his hip to chest.

"They were killed in a Death Eater raid last autumn, just before Halloween."

Anita's hand stopped. She raised her head and looked at Draco.

"I think I heard about that or read about it in _Wizarding World Today_. Weren't there a couple of families killed at the same time?"

"Five families altogether."

"Oh Draco. How horrible for her."

"Today, at least I think it's today, should be Hermione's birthday. I remember because last year her friends made a big deal out of her eighteenth birthday and it was the same day as the Slytherin and Hufflepuff Quidditch match. We creamed them," said Draco, smiling at the memory.

"But she didn't go back to England. Wouldn't she go back for the weekend if it were her birthday? She's got friends back there, she's mentioned a Harry and Ron."

"I would have thought she'd go back, but she's not going until October. I'm not sure what's going on with that. I am definitely not on good terms with her two friends so I can't ask."

"I could ask. Do you think it would upset her?"

"I don't know. Hermione seems really strong about everything that's happened to her in the last year, but I have a feeling some of it is an act."

"That's to be expected." Anita nuzzled Draco's neck. "How do you think the pale lavender of a love bite would look against that gorgeous blonde hair of yours?"

"We could compare it against the one I'd put on your neck. I'll make certain its deep purple, which would look lovely against your chestnut locks."

"Gods, I love your accent. Do you think you could talk dirty to me for a while?"

Draco chuckled into her hair. "I'd be delighted to accommodate you. Would you prefer I whisper sweet dirty nothings into your ear or into your cunt?" He drew out the last word, making it sound sensual. Anita shivered and felt a rush between her legs.

"Would you do that? I've never had that."

"I might be enticed into it."

Anita's hand trailed down to his cock, which was showing evidence of his interest in her enticements. She wrapped her fingers around him and moved, encouraging him into a more potent state of arousal.

"Will this do?"

"Oh, yes."

Anita climbed on top of him, her legs spread as she knelt over his cock. Draco reached down and guided his tip into her wet channel. She adjusted her position and moved down, taking him inside her. Draco moaned as Anita began to move. He reached up and stroked her breast as she moved against him. He could hear her making the soft noises that preceded her climax and reached between them, stroking the small hard nub with his finger, little circular movements that made her gasp. He felt her wetness surge and muscles tighten around his cock as her body sought its own pleasure. His hips bucked against her. God, she felt so good, so wet and tight. Two more rocks of her hips, two more upward thrusts to meet her and she was there, crying out in pleasure, her walls tight around him in spasms that took him over the edge, his own groan of pleasure blending with hers as they came together.

Catching her breath, Anita bent down and Draco caught her in a passionate kiss. She slid off him and collapsed beside him on the bed, both of them breathing heavily, limbs heavy with satisfaction.

"That was glorious," she whispered, "I swear I felt it all the way up my spine."

Draco pulled her back into his arms. "I know what you mean. I don't think I've ever come so hard as I have with you."

The two lay quietly for a while, just the sounds of breathing and a sleepy sigh from Anita.

"I haven't paid you back yet," whispered Draco.

"How about in the morning?"

"Deal," he murmured, "We have to talk about keeping Hermione busy today."

"In the morning."

------------------

Hermione picked up her backpack and headed into the dormitory's transportation room. It was a little after four AM, which would make it a little after ten o'clock in England. Time enough. Standing in the small room, she took out a small velvet bag. Inside it was binder clip that she had paid a senior Charms student to make into a portkey. She whispered the password and felt the pull behind her naval.

She felt nauseous when she arrived; glad she'd chosen to travel on an empty stomach. Hermione looked around, the time difference always surprising her. She'd left in the dark and arrived in full daylight. The sun was shining brightly through the puffy clouds. The morning was cool, but not cold. The leaves on the trees hadn't started to change yet. Hermione stepped out from the copse of trees that marked the borders of the Benton family plot she'd spotted during her last visit to the cemetery.

'I'm sorry, Remus. I lied to you, but I need to do this,' she thought.

Hermione walked up the narrow walkway, her grandparents' and parents' graves just up the path. As with her first visit, she visited Albert and Marion Granger first. Their faces were not clear in her mind anymore. Her grandmother died when Hermione was three and she remembered her more as photo on her father's dresser than anything else. Her grandfather died when Hermione was eight and she remembered him pushing her on the swings at the park, reading her stories from books that were old when her father was a boy, and holding her hand as they crossed the street to the ice cream shop across from the local bookshop. She remembered his smile, the sound of his laugh, and how big his wrists were compared to hers when she'd play with the watch he wore. Little memories, happy ones, comforting ones.

Hermione knelt by the headstones, cleaning them off with her bottle of water and rag. The flowers she'd brought the first time were gone, but the silk wreaths were there. She freshened them with a wave of her wand. A few words of love and reminiscence and Hermione was ready to move onto her primary destination.

Her parents' graves looked the same as when she'd left in the summer. The grass she'd planted had taken well. The silk wreaths needed freshening, which Hermione took care of with another wand wave. She wiped down the markers and then sat in the grass next to her mother's grave. Hermione sat quietly for a while, running her fingers in the grass.

"Hi, Mum." Hermione stretched out her legs. "I'm back at college again. This term is going really well so far. I'm taking two Muggle science classes this term, chemistry and physics. The material is interesting and the teachers aren't bad. I've got a Potions class, which isn't as good as what Professor Snape taught last year at Hogwarts. Professor DeBastian isn't his caliber, I don't care if she's a college instructor or not."

"I'm taking world history, which is much more interesting when you don't have a ghost teaching it. Professor Binns just wasn't interested in anything that took place after he died. I'm taking calculus, too. That's the hardest class so far."

"I've made a few friends at school. I've told you about Anita Schuler already. My lab partner in Potions is really terrific. His name is Warren Stevens and he's a wizard from New York. Really smart, really funny, and really gay. He wants to make it big in the wizarding cosmetics industry."

"I think you'd like him. He talked me into getting my eyebrows shaped at a fancy day spa. I have to admit, I look better for it. He picked out these beige and brown eye shadows for me and mascara. I never thought I'd wear mascara, but it makes my eyes look bigger. I actually let a guy pick out makeup for me to wear. I can guarantee Harry and Ron would never get a vote. You should see what Warren bought for himself. He's got amazingly good taste, Mum. He wants to go with next time I shop for clothes. I'm rather tempted to let him."

"I haven't met anyone to date yet. Except for Draco and Anita, people in the residential hall really aren't dating so much as running in packs. I bet that will change over the next few months as people start pairing off."

Hermione got up and went over to her father's grave. She sat down beside it.

"Hi Dad. I missed you on your birthday last month. You would have been seventy-three years old on this side of the veil," whispered Hermione, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I thought about you a lot and what we would have done to celebrate. I kept busy that day to keep from dwelling on it, but keeping busy only goes so far. I miss you and Mum terribly." Hermione cleared her throat. "Anyway, I played the Glen Miller tape in your memory. Believe it or not, Draco Malfoy knows how to jitterbug. I played the tape for him and Anita the other day and we cut a rug in your honor."

"There are some good things happening, Dad. Did you know Professor Snape is teaching me to prepare the Wolfsbane potion? It's used to help werewolves hold onto their human consciousness while transformed during the full moon."

"The man is an absolute genius, Dad. He invented the potion from start to finish. He and I have talked about how he developed it, why he selected every ingredient and how it is processed, all of the Arithmantic factors and charms that went into it. It took him years to work all of it out. It's a true Master's level potion and believe me, I've never done anything nearly as complex as Wolfsbane."

"We prepared four months worth of the base for one person and that alone took two of us four hours of work. I'll be coming back the weekend of October 3rd just before the full moon and Professor Snape is going to allow me to help him with the second stage of the brewing."

"All those early years at Hogwarts when I was afraid of him and didn't trust him. He's a good actor and plays the role of the _right bastard_ to perfection. I had a bit of an attitude adjustment when I figured out during Fourth Year that he was a spy for us. Then during Fifth Year, he protected us all he could from Umbridge. Sixth Year, the Professor got the information and figured out what Voldemort was planning so we were ready for him."

"And then last year…." Hermione took in a shuddering breath, determined not to cry. "Last year, he didn't find out anything in time to save you and Mum. I think he really feels bad about it. That night when he and I talked on top of Astronomy Tower, he understood more about what I was going through than I realized at the time. When he was a First Year, his father killed his mother and then killed himself."

"Fred Weasley told me about it and I did some research to find out more. According to what I read, the inquest before the Wizengamot showed the Professor's father was a wife-beater and abused his son. The Professor's mother waited for her son to be off to Hogwarts and was going to leave her husband for another wizard. Professor Snape was only twelve when it happened."

"As bad as it was for me, it had to be worse for him. His life must have been so hard even before he got to Hogwarts. Being twelve, living in Slytherin….," Hermione shook her head, "I don't know if they look after their own the way Gryffindor looked after Mary Ellen and I. It's no wonder it is hard for him to trust people."

"Professor Snape and I have more in common than I ever thought. I think we could be friends, Dad. I want to cultivate him as a friend. Next time I see him, I'm going to try and get him to call me by my first name."

"I want to thank both of you for my birthday present. I had to pick it out on your behalf, but I can assure you it is a perfect choice." Hermione reached into her backpack and took out an object wrapped in a velvet cloth. She unwrapped it and gazed down. It was a wizarding photo of Hermione and her parents, taken that last summer at Arthur and Molly's thirtieth wedding anniversary party at the Burrow.

Hermione remembered the moment when Arthur snapped it. They'd been sitting on a bench with Hermione between them watching Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the boys in a pick-up game of Quidditch. Mum and Dad had never seen such a thing in all their lives as seven people on brooms, tossing bludgers and chasing a snitch.

George had done one of those Wronski Feint things that looked like a ground smashing about to happen right in front of them. It scared the dickens out of them until they saw George pull up on his Cleansweep and swoop almost straight up back into the air.

Mum and Dad started laughing with relief and each put an arm around her, blessing her for her dislike of flying on a broom. The three of them were looking at each other, arms around each other, laughing uproariously, a moment Arthur captured with the wizarding camera.

Arthur had given Hermione the photo and she'd found a sterling silver frame for it. From now on, it would occupy a special place on her dresser as a part of the altar she kept. Hermione ran her fingers across the glass, remembering. She lifted the frame and kissed the photo. Mum and Dad blew kisses back to her.

"I cheated to come here today. I promised Remus I wouldn't come here alone, but I really needed to. There's a good chance I'm going to sneak back from time-to-time. If I don't come visit, it's because there's something going on that might make it dangerous. I gave you my word I'd take care of myself and I'll keep it."

It's time for me to go back to America now. I'm not sure what I'll do today. Harry and Ron are on duty this weekend and couldn't get away. I figured I'd get some studying done and maybe order pizza delivery for dinner tonight. Crookshanks loves bits of sausage off of it, so we'll share."

Hermione gathered her possessions and began to stow them in the backpack. "It'll be fine. I wanted a quiet birthday this year. Last time I came to visit, the nightmares stopped for a while. I could use that again." Hermione stood.

"I love you and I miss you. I'll come back when I can." Hermione took out the triple moon pendant, gave the password, and vanished.

------------

Hermione reappeared in the transportation room. She waited for the nausea to pass and stepped out into the lobby.

"Hermione! There you are. We've been looking for you."

She turned to see Anita, who must have spotted her just as she was coming into the lobby. Draco was right behind her.

"Good morning," answered Hermione brightly, "Where are you two off to?"

"I was just going to get the car. We're going to Walmart," said Anita.

"Where were you, Hermione? Did you go back to England last night?" asked Draco.

'Damn it, why did they have to spot me coming out of the transportation room? Draco knows full well there's nowhere else I could have apparated or portkeyed to,' thought Hermione.

"I went back to see a couple of friends," said Hermione. "It was just a quick trip."

Draco shook his head. "I don't know how you can handle a quick trip. Two portkeyings within a few hours makes me nauseous."

"Me, too," said Hermione, "But, it was my only chance so I took it. You two are going to Walmart?"

"Come with us," said Anita. "I know you two haven't been there before."

Hermione hitched up her backpack. "Let's go."

Fifteen minutes later, the three had picked up Anita's car from the parking garage and were on the road. They were heading out to the western suburbs.

"We're going to the one nearest to my home. I thought after we were done we could stop off and score dinner off my folks," said Anita.

Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes. She was in the back seat, her backpack stowed in the trunk and her wallet in her pocket. She wasn't certain she had fooled Draco at all. Professor Snape was right, she was a poor actress and Draco was a very good actor. Nothing could be done about it, now. Draco might very well figure out she hadn't told the truth. No point in worrying about it. Hermione let her mind drift, the movement of the car soothing as she dozed.

Draco, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around and noticed Hermione sleeping. Anita looked in the rearview mirror and exchanged a glance with Draco.

"Where do you think she was?" Anita whispered.

"I don't know," whispered Draco in response, "She must have gone back to England, but she let it go that she wasn't gone overnight. She had to have gone very early this morning. I heard her door open and close."

"Maybe she'll tell us later."

"We'll see," said Draco. He wondered about Hermione's secrecy. He knew she might be involved in things she wouldn't tell him about because of her involvement with Potter and Dumbledore. Somehow it didn't make sense they would have her make a two or three hour visit and then come back. That kind of Portkey travel was notorious for making most people sick.

He brought his attention back to the street around him. It looked like they were in a commercial district of some sort. There were large stores all around them and vehicles parked in long rows. Anita was driving the car slowly down one of the rows, avoiding dozens of Muggles as they walked along pushing metal carts on wheels that looked to be full of bags. Finding an open space, Anita turned the car into it, stopped and turned it off.

"Is this it?" Hermione asked from the back seat. She stretched and yawned.

"It certainly is," answered Anita. "You are both about to see retail America's superpower. This chain of stores is worth just under one percent of America's gross national product."

That piece of information caught Draco's attention. "How did they do it?"

"By establishing large stores with a wide variety of goods at low prices. They buy in huge volume and can undercut the prices of smaller stores. As soon as a Walmart opens up in a town, a lot of small businesses go under because they can't compete with the prices."

"Rather a predatory approach, don't you think?" asked Hermione.

"I think I like it," said Draco.

"That's how business works," shrugged Anita, "It's survival of the fittest. Oh, and Draco, no remarks about Muggles or magic while we're here."

The three got out of the car and walked up the row of vehicles. The automatic doors slid to the side as they approached. Draco walked up and back three times, fascinated.

"I'll be we could do this magi…."

"Draco!" shushed Anita.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he said contritely.

Draco looked around. He'd never seen so many Muggles close up and so many shelves of goods. Anita was taking one of those carts from a row. An elderly Muggle man smiled at them and wished them good morning. He wore some sort of smock with the name of the store on it. Anita signaled Draco to come over.

"Welcome to the duties of an American male. You get to push the cart while the women direct the shopping," Anita teased.

"I'm ready for the challenge," said Draco. He took the handle at the back of the cart and began to push, following the example of the Muggles he'd seen. Anita and Hermione walked on ahead and Draco followed with the cart. This seemed to be the system followed by most of the Muggles around him.

He looked around, fascinated. There seemed to be a whole row of Halloween decorations ahead on the right. The decorations looked cheap and didn't move, talk, or do anything interesting. To the left appeared to be women's cosmetics. Anita and Hermione walked into one of those aisles. Draco followed after with the cart.

"Just look at all this," lectured Anita, "Cosmetics is a multi-billion dollar business and what you see here is just the low-end market. The high end is sold through expensive department stores at malls or in specialty stores."

Draco stopped before a display of nail polish. He reached over and took a bottle off the shelf. It was a bright red and bore the label _Cherries in Snow_. He put it back and selected another, a pastel pink called _Pink Peony_. A third one was dark brownish purple called _Vamp_. Was this a product for vampires? Somehow, Draco couldn't imagine a vampire shopping for fingernail polish in a store like this. He was tempted to open one. He looked around, but didn't see anyone else opening the products so he guessed he'd better not.

He looked ahead and the girls were at the end of the aisle. He pushed the cart towards them and looked at the wall of plastic wrapped products. The whole wall was covered with packages labeled _Kotex_, _Stayfree_, _Always_, and _Tampax_. What were these things that covered a whole wall?

Anita and Hermione had turned and gone around to the next the aisle. They were looking at bottles, potions perhaps?

Draco turned back to the wall of Kotex in front of him. He took a package down that said 'thin' and 'slender' and turned it this way and that looking for an explanation of the contents. A Muggle woman with a child sitting in her cart passed by him, giving him an odd look. He supposed it was his blonde good looks and obvious breeding. Hermione walked further down the aisle and Anita looked back at Draco and started walking in his direction. Why was she smiling like that?

Draco held out the package to Anita. "What is this and why do they have fifty different kinds?"

Anita reached out and took the package from Draco, a look of pure mirth on her face. She put it back on the shelf.

"It's a feminine hygiene product. Women have a lot of different preferences with these kinds of things. I like the Tampax brand myself." She reached over, selected a box labeled _Tampax_ and dropped it into the cart.

Draco looked at the package in the cart and had a sudden insight. A feeling of sheer horror passed through him. He was standing in an aisle of those things women used during….

He groaned. No wonder the Muggle woman looked at him strangely. And now there was a box of those things in the cart where everyone could see it. What was wrong with these people? Didn't they have any sense of privacy? He looked at Anita. She was obviously holding back laughter. Draco didn't know whether to be mortified or laugh with her.

"I believe we should leave now," he said, deciding to be mortified.

Anita took his arm and squeezed it. "Muggles are a bit more prosaic about such things and this is very much a Muggle store. Come on over this way, Draco. There's something I want to show you."

She pulled Draco and the cart down the next aisle. He found himself looking at an entire aisle filled with bottle after bottle of shampoo and hair conditioner.

He hoped she wouldn't think anything was amiss when he nonchalantly shrugged off his denim jacket and draped it over the side of the cart, covering the box of Tampax in the process.

"This is classic American over-consumption." Anita waved her hand down the aisle. "There are at least twenty-five different brands of shampoo just in this aisle of this store. Within those brands are different formulations for different hair types."

Anita picked up an ivory colored bottle. "This is probably the largest selling brand of shampoo in America. Look at the choices they offer; dry hair, oily hair, normal hair, colored hair – they mean artificially dyed hair, dandruff preventive, shampoo with built- in hair conditioner. With some of these formulations, the only difference is the scent of the shampoo. This one is vanilla, there's strawberry, and here's lavender."

She moved down the aisle, dragging Draco along with. "There's a hair conditioner to go with each formulation." Anita pointed to a set of bottles from another brand. "This brand is for people with fine hair to make it look thicker."

She pointed to another set. "This one is for women with curly hair, to make it look smoother." Anita picked up the shampoo and the conditioner sitting next to it. "This is what we are looking for." She looked expectantly at Draco.

Draco looked at the bottle. It was designed for curly hair to make it smoother and easier to style. He looked at Anita's smooth chestnut hair and ran his hand through his own straight blonde.

"I don't think you and I are looking for this. Hermione, maybe, but not you and I."

"On the contrary, Draco. This is exactly what we need. We, for this year's team project, are going to fix Hermione's hair."

"What are we doing with Hermione's hair?" asked Hermione. She stood at the end of the aisle, two potions bottles in her hands. Hermione joined Draco and Anita at the cart.

"We need a multi-disciplinary project for this year," answered Anita, holding up the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "I propose we use your hair."

"It might be bushy and frizzy, but I think I look better with it than without it," answered Hermione. She sounded skeptical.

"I've already spoken to Warren and we're in agreement. We want to work on your hair." Anita dropped her voice to a whisper. "You and Warren will do the potions end of it, Draco and I will work on the charms. This shampoo and conditioner will tell us what Muggle science has developed for frizzy hair. We can do better and invent a wizarding formulation. Dad has all kinds of connections. If we can do it, he'll help us sell the process to a wizarding cosmetic company. Then Warren gets his name known by a cosmetics company, Hermione gets better hair, and we all make money. This is what's known as a win-win situation."

Draco looked at Anita with a newly found level of respect. He already liked her, in fact was quite fond of her, and the attraction between them was pretty potent already. As a witch, she wasn't very powerful but she knew her way around wizarding and Muggle America. And her family was filthy rich, which never hurt anything from a Malfoy point of view. He realized she understood business at a level none of the Malfoys had ever achieved. This was something he could learn from her, something he could use.

"I think it's a great idea," said Draco, "What do you think, Hermione?"

"As long as we don't wreck my hair, its fine with me," laughed Hermione, "But, I really don't think we should be having this discussion in the hair products aisle where anyone can walk up and hear us."

"Good point," said Anita. "How about we go get some lunch and then we go see a movie. You two didn't get to see _Armageddon_ when it first came out in July. It's playing at the second run theater now. We could see that. It has Bruce Willis in it, Draco."

Draco was the proud owner of all of the _Die Hard_ movie videos. He had a preference for movies with special effects, particularly loud spectacular explosions. Bruce Willis was one of his favorites. He nodded in agreement, not wanting to be obvious.

"I think you got Draco's attention," said Hermione, smiling. "Shall we go pay for our purchases?"

The three wandered their way back through the store. Draco resolved to come back and investigate further at some point in the future. He saw a sign for an electronics section further back in the store. They might have videos. Draco decided to call the driving school this week and arrange for lessons. The next item on his big purchases To Do list was a car. He'd have to do research over the Internet and decide what he wanted. America was not such a bad place. After all, he was just living up to his responsibilities by looking into all of this.

--------------------

"Of course he was doing the right thing when he took his future son-in-law's place in setting off the nuclear bomb to blow up the asteroid," said Anita.

"It's obvious he thought of the Ben whatshisname character as a son," said Hermione from the back seat. "He wouldn't let his son be killed, even if it cost him his own life. No parent would have it any other way."

"He was a hero and he did exactly what a hero is supposed to do. He got himself blown up to save his friends, people he loved, and saved the world," added Draco. "The hardest part of it was when he was on that asteroid alone, knowing he'd sent his friends off to safety. That was an excellent movie, fantastic special effects," sighed Draco in post-action movie bliss.

Hermione didn't think Draco quite realized what he was saying. As a prince of Slytherin, Draco was supposed to despise self-sacrifice and heroism in favor of pragmatism. He could see the point in the movie, but couldn't see how it applied to himself.

Anita was driving down a tree-lined street in Oak Park. The homes were large and several had wrought iron fences around them. She pulled into a driveway and handed Draco a remote control.

"Push the button," she instructed. Draco complied. A wrought iron gate swung open.

"Does this work on the same principle as the doors at Walmart?" asked Draco.

"No," explained Hermione, "This remote control sends a signal to an electronic mechanism on the gate that tells it to open. The doors at Walmart open because of movement in front of an infrared motion detector."

Draco didn't understand the explanation.

Anita pulled the car into the driveway, next to the garage and instructed Draco to push the button again. The gate closed.

"It's for security, like having wards around your house. We have wards, too, but in this neighborhood these kinds of protections are expected and we want to blend in."

They got out of the car and Draco and Hermione followed as Anita went into a door at the side of the house. She flipped on a light switch, revealing a small room with an assortment of benches with hooks above them. There were jackets on some of the hooks and an assortment of shoes and boots lined up against one wall.

"This is Mom's mud room. She always insists that if we have dirty shoes or wet coats, they have to come off here. I'm not sure if they're home, but Wilhelmina will know. She's the housekeeper."

Anita headed off down a hallway, Draco and Hermione right behind her. She came out into a brightly lit, enormous kitchen. Well, not enormous by Hogwarts standards, but just as large as what would be found at Malfoy Manor.

'Completely different from home,' thought Draco. He looked around the kitchen and saw all kinds of electrical appliances. He recognized them from films and television. The refrigerator, cooker, dishwasher, microwave oven he knew. He was unsure of the smaller appliances on the counters. He wanted to open the refrigerator and see if it really did keep things cold. And he would like to heat something in the microwave. He'd heard that putting a chicken's egg in there and turning it on would make the egg explode. It would probably be considered rude to explode a raw egg, so he didn't ask.

There was one familiar sight, a house elf. Middle-aged was Draco's guess. She was dressed differently than he'd ever seen any house elf dressed before. She wore navy blue trousers, a light blue shirt, and a navy jumper, with trainers, no less. It was one of the oddest sights he'd ever seen.

"Anita!" proclaimed the house elf. "You did make it after all." The house elf was looking at Anita with obvious affection.

Anita bent over, way over and gave the diminutive elf a gentle hug, which was returned with a vengeance.

"Wilhelmina, I would like to introduce my English friends." Anita released the elf and turned towards the guests. "This is Hermione Granger, Potions major and Draco Malfoy, Charms major."

The house elf held out her hand first to Hermione who took it without hesitation.

"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Granger. Anita has spoken of you several times."

"I'm delighted to meet you, too. Please call me Hermione. Anita's told me about how you helped raise her and that you make the best carrot cake to be had anywhere."

Draco was nonplussed, but grateful for his years of training in manners and hiding facial expressions. Anita had greeted the house elf like she was a member of the family. The house elf was talking like she'd been educated. Hermione's reaction wasn't surprising, given her efforts to liberate the house elves of England. The weirdest thing was this elf didn't twitch. Not once.

Gathering his wits about him and realizing that whatever he thought of house elves, he did not want to anger Anita by treating the house elf like, well, a house elf.

Draco held out his hand and shook the hand of the tiny woman.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance and hope one day I will have the pleasure of sampling some of your carrot cake."

'Draco handled that well,' thought Hermione. 'I never thought I'd live to see the day Draco was polite to a house elf, let alone shook their hand.'

The elf was smiling, a welcoming friendly smile.

"You are both in luck. There's carrot cake for dessert. They are staying for dinner, aren't they Anita? And please call me Wilhelmina. We're not much for formality here."

Anita laughed. "Of course we're staying for dinner. There's no way we'd go back to the dorm without real food to see us through."

"In that case, I'm sending the lot of you out of my kitchen," said Wilhelmina. "Your parents will be home for dinner. They went somewhere with Adam. So, go give your friends a tour of the house."

"Aye,captain," said Anita, "We'll happily leave you to work your magic."

Anita ushered the other two out of the kitchen and complied with instructions. She started with the living room.

"The house was built in 1893 by an architect named Frank Lloyd Wright. He was a wizard who had real genius in Arithmancy and Transfiguration. Mom and Dad bought the house just before my brother Adam was born, so we've always lived here. The architecture is called Prairie style because of the clean lines. Wright liked to make buildings he called organic, fitting in with the land around it. We're pretty flat in Illinois so the house has clean, low lines. There's nothing ornate, everything is simple."

The tour continued through the house. They'd made it to the backyard when they heard the sounds of a car pulling up to the house. Anita grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him in the direction of the noise. Hermione followed after, laughing.

A minivan was parked in the drive. A middle-aged couple got out, along with a tall young man.

Anita released Draco's hand and went to hug her father. The woman joined him and the tall man reached over and tweaked Anita's hair. Draco and Hermione waited at the side of the drive. Anita waved them over.

"Mom, Dad, I want you to meet Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Hermione and Draco, these are my folks, Mr. and Mrs. Schuler, and my brother Adam."

Draco stepped up first, shaking hands with the Schulers, making the polite small talk one would expect. Mr. Schuler seemed to be assessing him pretty carefully. Hermione wondered what he knew of his daughter's relationship with Draco. Hermione stepped up next and offered her hand to Mrs. Schuler. She was rather tall, as tall as her husband, and Hermione had to look up to her. She had blue eyes, light brown hair, and the casual slack suit and blouse she was wearing had an expensive designer look.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Hermione. Anita's spoken of you quite often since the two of you started sharing a bathroom this summer," said Mrs. Schuler in cultured tones. "And, Draco. Anita says you've become a movie fan since coming to America."

Hermione was quite amused to see Anita's mother's reaction to Draco. She was assessing him in the same way her husband had. This might be one time when Draco's elitist attitudes and good looks might not be to his benefit. At least he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt rather than one of his sophisticated Pureblood society outfits. It could get really interesting if Anita's big brother decided to get in on the action.

"Hi, Hermione," said the tall young man, "I'm Adam."

Adam Schuler could be described as easy on the eyes. He wasn't classically good looking, but he was a bit over six foot with the same blue eyes and dark brown hair as Anita. He had high cheekbones, like his father's, and just a bit of a tan from being out in the sun. He had an easy going smile.

"Hi, Adam," said Hermione, "It's good to meet you."

The two of them stood over to the side while the mutual sizing up of parents and daughter's boyfriend was going on. Fortunately, Anita was capable of talking non-stop, which filled any awkward moments that could have arisen.

"So, give me the inside scoop," asked Adam in hushed tones, leaning against the car. "Is there anything going on there that I, in my role as big brother, might need to kill him for?"

Hermione laughed. "I'm not sure death is the appropriate penalty. Draco absolutely adores Anita. I've known him since we were both eleven and he's never adored anyone before. You might want to give him a chance."

Adam looked down at Hermione.

"Anita says you're in the Dominus Potions program. I'm doing Arithmancy myself," said Adam with a rather pleasing midwestern accent.

"I enjoy Arithmancy, too. One of the things about Potions is it brings together so many different disciplines. The way the program is organized, it's like having a major in Potions and minors in Charms and Arithmancy,"

"I'm planning to get into the family business. Arithmancy is a perfect discipline for it. How about you?"

"Research, I think. I'm particularly interested in medicinal potions development."

"Good field. There are crossover opportunities in Muggle pharmaceuticals. Of course, magical ingredients and charms can't be used, but there can be non-magical spin-offs that can be highly profitable."

Hermione looked back at Draco and Anita, who were still talking with the Schulers.

"They seem to be doing alright. Nobody looks angry and no blood has been shed."

"That could be because it would be my job. Mom and Dad might skewer him verbally if they thought he deserved it, but enforcement is a brother's privilege." Adam looked Draco up and down. "I've got the size advantage. How is he magically?"

"Pretty strong. He took on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts in a duel during class and gave him a real contest up until he blew out his knee."

"Damn," Adam shrugged, "Then I probably can't take him on that way. It'll have to be fisticuffs."

Hermione chuckled. "Everyone seems to be smiling, so you might not have to be the family enforcer at this point."

"We'll see. Sometimes brothers are privy to information parents don't get. Especially when the brother lives in the same dorm, two floors up from his sister."

Hermione considered whether or not she should warn Draco.

"Would you like to go in and get something to drink?" asked Adam. "Wilhelmina probably has dinner about ready. If we go in, that'll get them moving. Otherwise Anita's liable to keep talking and they'll be in the driveway all evening."

"Sounds like a good idea."

---------------

Adam's plan worked very nicely. Within ten minutes of getting everybody indoors, Wilhelmina had everyone in the dining room, gathered around a table full of food. The house elf had prepared lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and the carrot cake for dessert. The food was just as good as promised.

Draco went out of his way to compliment Wilhelmina on the excellent meal. It was not just bragging, Wilhelmina did make the best carrot cake this side of the Atlantic Ocean. Draco wondered if he could get Pudding and Wilhelmina together, in spite of the culture differences between English and American house elves. Between them, the Malfoy family would have the best food anywhere. Though there could be repercussions of having a confident, assertive, and decidedly non-twitchy house elf like Wilhelmina get into the Malfoy household. It could lead to house elf liberation.

No, it might be a bad idea after all.

The conversation was thoroughly enjoyable. The Schulers were obviously well traveled and sophisticated. There was an extensive discussion of differences between wizarding England and wizarding America. Mrs. Schuler, who worked as an architect, talked quite intelligently on the subject of architectural differences in the types of buildings found in the two cultures. She had never seen Hogwarts, but after Hermione and Draco's description and offer to connect her with Headmaster Dumbledore, she got a promise from Mr. Schuler to visit the next time they took a vacation.

It was one of the most enjoyable evenings Hermione had in a long time. It didn't hurt that Adam sat next to her and they exchanged humorous observations of the interactions between Draco and his sister. Hermione decided that Adam Schuler was genuinely nice.

It also didn't hurt that Adam asked her if she'd like to go out with him next Friday night.

It was late before the three of them got back to the dormitory. It looked like Anita and Draco were planning to spend the night in his room. Hermione decided not to warn them quite yet that Adam might be planning to investigate their personal habits. She could save that for the morning. After all, Anita and Draco had made her birthday much more pleasant than she had anticipated when the day started.

That night for the first time in a week, Hermione did not have nightmares.

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Author's notes

If you would like to see the Schuler's home, it is a real mansion located in River Forest (a very upscale suburb bordering on Oak Park). I took the liberty of relocating it to Oak Park. This is fiction. If we can have a magical boarding school, I can move a mansion. Of course, I cannot do a link, but it you remove the spaces between the characters, this will take you to theSchuler'shouse:

w w w . d e l m a r s . c o m / f l w t r i p / w i n s l o w . h t m

Thanks to all my reviewers for your encouragement, questions, challenges, and lively discussions: HumbugGirl, Not So Chicken Little, Rinny08, ConfusedPink, BeautifulWorld, Bakaonigirii, Skybluheaven, Lady-Rhian, Starlightxlillies, Siren34, Aunt Becky, Princess Fiona, Evil Mastermind 666, Teri, Duj, Rhian Karlie, BadBugz, Muggle-To-The-Max, Severus-Fan, Megan Consoer, Droxy, Me613, SnapeDreamer, Latinachikita, PhoenixFlight, Mugglemomof3, Ccrawley10


	32. Chapter 32

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for stress relief.

Thanks again to Julia for Britpicking in feedback on the story. Anyplace you see _waistcoat_ instead of _vest_ is because she spotted it. Thanks to Amrun for the lessons on punctuation.

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Severus, October 2, 1998

"What is the next step, Miss Granger?" asked Severus.

"Add the chalcedony, which vibrates to nine. This will bring the Arithmantic total to sixteen and bring the Wolfsbane potion back to the prime number of seven. It encourages a sense of brotherhood, reducing hostility and irritability while enhancing generosity and positive responsiveness to others," answered Hermione.

"What color should the Wolfsbane potion be at this point?

"Deep blue with an earthy scent."

"Go ahead," directed Severus.

Hermione stood at the laboratory table in the cellar. A tempered glass cauldron rested on a ring above a burner. She held a thumb sized piece of translucent chalcedony in her left hand, because it was closest to her heart. In her right hand was a glass stirrer. At this point, the potion was too reactive to any metal so only tempered glass implements and containers could be used. The potion was a midnight blue, bubbling gently. Hermione's hand was just above the surface of the liquid. She gently dropped the chalcedony into the potion so that it would not splash.

The potion lightened from midnight to deep blue.

"What is next?" asked Severus.

"Add one and one eighth teaspoons of umbabazane," she responded.

"What is the function of umbabazane in this potion?"

"To lower blood sugar while stimulating the circulatory system and to provide an increase in the serotonin levels in the blood."

"Why is this desirable?"

"In the werewolf form, blood sugar levels rise resulting in diminished focus and awareness of the human self. The serotonin moderates mood and appetite," Hermione quirked a smile, "Hopefully diminishing extreme anger and the need to take large bites out of human beings."

"That is certainly the preferred effect, Miss Granger," said Severus, amused. "Adding umbabazane to the potion will bring the Arithmantic total to what value?"

"Umbabazane's value is five, bringing the total to twelve and then to three. A four is needed to bring the potion back to seven."

"What is added to bring the value back to seven?"

"Gotu Cola," answered Hermione. "It improves oxygen flow to the brain, increasing cognitive functioning. It has a value of four and brings the Wolfsbane back to seven."

"Proceed."

And so they continued for the next two hours.

--------------------

The potion was now a dull gray color and smelled like chicken soup. However, it had the texture of liquid chalk and according to Remus; it would taste like the inside of a poorly maintained privy. In other words, it was perfect.

Severus was pleased with Granger's work. She had obviously studied and was well prepared for the brewing session. The Wolfsbane was cooling in the cauldron, ready to decant into a bottle with a cork stopper.

As soon as the potion work was completed, Granger had started to clean up without being asked. This unofficial apprentice arrangement was working out very nicely.

"Professor?" asked Hermione, as she finished putting away unused ingredients, "Have you been able to figure out what the Dark Lord is planning?"

"No," answered Severus, "I expect to be told this weekend which of the potions he expects me to brew. He may or may not tell me for what purpose he requires it."

Granger was wiping down the lab table with a wet cloth. Even though it could be done just as well with magic, she preferred the Muggle method. She looked at Severus with curious intent.

"Sir, how do you manage all of this? You teach Potions, conduct private research, function as Head of House for Slytherin, operate as a spy, plan strategy for the Order, act like a loyal Death Eater, and stalk the corridors of Hogwarts in the middle of the night seeking out rule-breakers. How can you keep all of this straight? Wherever do you find the energy?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Years of practice, Miss Granger."

"It would make me downright cranky," she answered, shaking her head in dismay.

The eyebrow went a bit higher.

"Oh. Point well-taken, Professor."

The cellar door opened and Remus came down the stairs, followed by the Headmaster.

Remus looked as he usually did just before the full moon. One day away from transformation, his face was drawn and he looked tired. The lines on his face were sharper and deeper. His clothes hung loosely on his long frame as if he lost weight every time the full moon approached. During other times of the month, Remus looked healthier since he'd become the Order's full-time employee. Severus assumed it was related to eating on a regular basis.

Dumbledore looked like a magician out of a storybook. Today's robes were a deep brown with gold embroidered stars on the hem and cuffs. He wore a wizard's cap of the same fabric. He was in his usual twinkle mode tonight.

"I understand the two of you have worked together on this month's batch of the Wolfsbane potion," remarked Dumbledore jovially.

"I am instructing Miss Granger in the process of making it, as we had discussed earlier." Severus closed the notebook where he kept his notes on Wolfsbane. "The process went well. As you can see, the potion is the appropriate color and I believe Remus will confirm that the texture and taste are up to their usual standard."

Remus smiled and refused to take the bait.

"I'm grateful to have it. Thank you both for going to the time and trouble to make it for me."

Hermione gave Remus a warm smile. "It's been a real learning experience. It's certainly the most complicated potion I've ever made. There is no way I could have done it without the Professor taking me through it step-by-step."

Dumbledore looked around the cellar. "You have done a fine job with getting the laboratory set up down here."

"Minerva transfigured most of the furniture and cabinets. Miss Granger is doing most of the stocking and maintenance of the lab. We should be capable of doing research here," responded Severus, looking around the room.

"Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I need to get our dinner ready," said Hermione.

"And what is tonight's treat from the far foreign lands?" inquired Dumbledore.

"Lou Malnati's deep dish Chicago style pizza. They have the best pizza restaurants in the Chicago area and ship it frozen in dry ice all over the United States. I brought two with me and need to heat them up," said Hermione.

"What do they have on them?" asked Remus

"I know your stomach gets sensitive," said Hermione, "So one is made with plain mozzarella cheese."

Severus rolled his eyes, which Hermione saw and pointedly ignored.

"The other one has just about the entire potions cabinet on it."

"As long as they leave out the erumpet liver," said Severus, "the last one sounds fine with me."

"You'll just have to pick the erumpet liver off of yours," teased Hermione as she headed upstairs.

Remus picked up the corked bottle with the Wolfsbane potion in it. He held it up to the light, seeing nothing more than a thick opaque liquid in a brown glass bottle.

"So, Hermione is doing well with this?"

"Quite well. It will take a few repetitions with supervision before she will be ready to make it on her own. She has the necessary skills and focus to attend to the details required for Wolfsbane," replied Severus. "This is not a potion a technician could prepare. It truly requires Master level skills and concentration."

"It is good to have more than one person capable of making it and Hermione will benefit from the training you have given her," said Dumbledore. "Now that she is out of listening range, I would like to ask if you have received any more intelligence about what the Dark Lord is planning?"

"I suspect some form of attack on a crowd, based on his assignment to research potions which lower inhibitions or provoke violent reactions," said Severus. "I anticipate a summons this weekend and expect he will tell me exactly what he wants."

"What about the possibility of the Dark Lord having a heart problem?" asked Remus, setting the bottle of Wolfsbane back on the lab table.

"Nothing further to report there, either. There is no additional evidence I have been able to find," said Severus, shaking his head.

"We can only wait, then," said Remus.

"In that case, shall we wait upstairs in more comfortable chairs and enjoy our dinner, which has a most enticing aroma," suggested Dumbledore.

The trio adjourned to the dining room, where the two hot pizzas were waiting. Severus had taken three bites when the summons came.

------------------

At 10:30 pm, the mirror on the wall above the fireplace glowed with a silvery light, indicating someone had triggered the wards by apparating or portkeying into the back yard of the townhouse.

"It must be Severus," said Dumbledore, relief apparent in his voice.

Remus and Hermione rose from the sofa and rushed for the back door. He opened the door and peered outside, the topaz eyes of a werewolf in human form adjusting instantly to the darkness.

"There's movement," he said, "Over there by the bushes." Remus pointed into the dark, quickly moving down the steps, Hermione fast behind him. The dark shape stumbled and the head lifted, revealing Severus grimacing as he struggled to regain his balance.

Hermione moved to his side and said softly; "I'm going to take a liberty, Professor." She reached down and grasped his arm, raising it gently as she ducked her shoulder underneath. Her other arm moved to his back around the bulky Death Eater's robes and grasped his waist. Severus stiffened for a moment and then relaxed against her, allowing her to take some of his weight and keep him upright. Remus moved to the other side and placed a hand firmly beneath his elbow. The three moved slowly and awkwardly towards the door, up the steps, and into the house.

"Can I persuade you to replace those steps with a ramp?" grumbled Severus, "You try making your way up steps after a few rounds of Crucio."

"Glad to see your visit with the Dark Lord didn't take away any of your natural charm, Severus," replied Lupin, releasing his arm.

Hermione maneuvered Severus into the parlor, gently easing him down onto the sofa. She pulled a cushion from the other end of the sofa and moved it to his side. Severus groaned and adjusted his position to rest against it. She reached for the afghan thrown over the back of an overstuffed chair. Severus shook his head.

Hermione stepped back, thought for a moment, and left the room. Moving purposefully, she went to the kitchen to the medicine cabinet. Examining an assortment of bottles, all labeled in a spidery writing she knew so well, Hermione selected three potions used for treating the effects of Crucio and put them in the pocket of her waistcoat. A small slab of medichocolate joined them.

She touched her index finger to the outside of the kettle and found it cooled. She cast a quick heating spell over the bottomless kettle and reached up into a cabinet for the teapot and cups, along with a box of tea bags and placed them on a tray. The kettle whistled and she filled the teapot with hot water. A bowl of sugar from the table was moved to the tray. A jug of milk removed from the magically cooled cold storage cabinet joined the other tea-making paraphernalia.

Levitating the tray, Hermione took the lot back into the parlor and set it down on the table in front of the sofa.

Dumbledore stood at the end of the sofa, looking down at Severus, who was slumped against the cushioned arm. His hands and shoulders shook with the after effects of Crucio. The rest of him was hidden under the Death Eater robes.

"I think you would be more comfortable without these," murmured Dumbledore. His wand moved over the Death Eater robes, banishing them to a spot on the floor in the corner. "You are looking a bit worse for wear, Severus. I take it Riddle was not pleased with you tonight."

Snape looked up at Dumbledore and shook his head slowly. "The Dark Lord was not displeased with me specifically. He was in a mood to discipline the ranks tonight. I do believe Malfoy faired worse than I did."

Hermione moved beside the Professor, placing a cup of tea in front of him. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew the three bottles, uncapping each one and placing them on the table in front of him, followed by the now unwrapped medichocolate.

Severus peered up at her, an almost imperceptible look of surprise on his face. "Thank you, Miss Granger. This is most…. considerate of you."

Hermione nodded towards the potions. He reached out and grasped the first bottle, moved it to his lips and swallowed. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the next. "I do have news. The Dark Lord has decided to use the Solvo Ira potion, which is much to our advantage."

Dumbledore frowned. "Riddle is choosing a potion which lowers inhibitions against violent behavior?"

Severus leaned back on the sofa. "The Dark Lord intends to use it in a public place at a time when emotions run hot, resulting in a riot. Where better to do so than at a professional Quidditch match? The match is tomorrow afternoon; the Chudley Cannons versus the Highgate Hippogriffs, one of the more hotly contested rivalries."

"The Dark Lord intends to disperse the Solvo Ira potion into the crowd," he continued, "Those morons will not hold back as their inhibitions against aggression disappear. They will pummel each other and people will be injured. With the effect of the potion there will be fatalities. The finale will find the Dark Mark cast over the stadium, proclaiming to all just who is responsible."

Severus lifted a shaking hand to reach the teacup, raising it to his lips. One sip accomplished and his hand shook too much to hold the cup steady.

Hermione frowned. 'He's trying to hide the pain and spasms,' she thought, 'Of course; he's only had a decade or two to practice.' She debated for a moment whether or not to risk making him angry by intervening.

Her decision made, Hermione reached over and gently took the cup from his hand. He looked surprised by her action. She handed him the bar of medichocolate. Severus accepted it, took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

"Fortunately, we have an advantage with this potion," said Severus, putting down the medichocolate with a trembling hand. "The formula is from an ancient Arabic source, along with the charm to activate the potion. The potion is in liquid form and kept inert until activated by the charm, which changes it to a fine mist to be inhaled by the victims. It will be easy enough to disperse through natural air currents throughout the stadium, which is why the Dark Lord chose it."

"What he does not realize," continued Severus after swallowing the contents of another vial, "is that the written formula is unclear as to whether one of the ingredients is fresh or dried. Based on my experience, I am confident the intent was for it to be dried, which is the most potent and concentrated form. I intend to substitute the fresh version, which will significantly reduce the potion's effectiveness."

"Inhibitions will be lowered, but only to the degree where the fans are likely to brawl. Instead of broken bones, they will end up with black eyes and bloody noses. The Dark Mark will appear over a stadium full of people engaged in a mild equivalent of a bar fight. It is almost amusing to think of it. The Dark Lord will not gain the effect he wants. It will seem more like a school prank than an act of terrorism. He will not be pleased." Severus shifted to lean against the arm of the sofa, a smirk on his face.

"You have about twelve hours to brew it?" asked Dumbledore.

"At best. Give me a few minutes and I will be ready to portkey back to Hogwarts," replied Severus, gingerly adjusting his position.

"Really?" snorted Hermione. "You're in no shape to go anywhere, Professor. Let alone doing the preparation work and standing for hours over a simmering cauldron. I'm living on midwestern US time. As far as my body is concerned, it's early evening. If you'll tell me where the book is with the formula for the potion, I'll go to Hogwarts, get it, and start on the preparation. You can join me after you've had some sleep and given the restoratives time to work."

Severus ran a tremoring hand over his eyes. "Miss Granger, this is hardly your responsibility."

"Severus," interrupted Dumbledore, "Your willpower is formidable, but even you must acknowledge a few limitations. You are exhausted and in pain. Miss Granger is quite capable of getting the potion started while you rest."

Severus shook his head. "I must be getting old if I am even considering taking you up on your offer, Miss Granger. A few rounds of Crucio and I am ready to beg off my responsibilities."

He leaned forward and looked down at his trembling hands. He considered his options.

"Very well, Miss Granger. I shall acquiesce on this occasion." Severus looked around and inquired, "Dobby?"

In a wink, Dobby appeared in the middle of the parlor, dressed in an odd combination of mismatched socks, one of Ron Weasley's cast-off Chudley Cannon's t-shirts, with bony knees sticking out from shorts dotted with penguins, and what appeared to be a Molly Weasley pink knitted tea cozy on his head.

"Did Professor Snape call Dobby?" asked the elf, bobbing and dipping with happiness at the summons. "Dobby is honored to serve Professor. Is Professor needing more tea or dinner?"

"No, Dobby, but the offer is appreciated. You remember the password for my office at Hogwarts?" asked Severus.

"Oh, yes," said Dobby, chortling with delight, "Dobby is honored to clean Professor's office. Dobby is honored to have Professor's trust around valuable books and potions. Dobby is leaving right away." He bounced up and down, enthusiastically clapping his hands.

"No, Dobby. Professor does not need his office cleaned right now," groaned Severus. "Professor needs you to get a book off his desk. It looks very old, with a dark brown leather cover. It has three clasps in leather and iron binding it shut. It should be right on top of my desk, next to a large wooden box. I need you to get the book and the wooden box and bring them here. Can you do that for me?"

"Dobby is going right now, Professor. Brown book with clasps and wooden box."

Dobby whirled like a loose limbed tap dancer, snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

"House elves," sighed Severus, "Sometimes I think you had the right idea about house elf liberation, Miss Granger. Though Dobby shows a bit more intelligence than most."

Hermoine blanched at the reminder of her unsuccessful house elf revolution. "Thanks for the reminder, Professor." She winced as she looked at the Professor, who returned her gaze with a look of wry amusement.

"Hermione," interrupted Dumbledore, "You cannot be seen at Hogwarts assisting Professor Snape in any way. There are children there who come from families with Death Eater sympathies. Any sign of Professor Snape working with a Muggleborn, let alone a friend of Harry Potter's, will be reported back to Tom Riddle, with dire consequences for the Professor. I believe we can ensure that all of the components of the potion can be brought and prepared here. Am I correct in that assumption, Severus?"

"Yes, Albus. The laboratory here is basic, but has all the necessary equipment. Additional large cauldrons will be needed, but those can be brought from the potions classroom after Dobby returns with the book and the ingredients in the box from my desk."

Severus reached again for the tea. His hand was steadier this time. At that moment, Dobby winked back into the room.

"Dobby has got it, Professor. Dobby has the book and the box." Dobby pointed a long thin finger at the book resting atop a wooden box, levitating both in front of him.

"Thank you indeed, Dobby. You may set them down on the table. You've served us very well tonight," praised Dumbledore.

The box and book separated and floated onto the side table next to Dumbledore's chair. Dumbledore reached over and took the book. He held it up and examined it closely, front and back. "Hmmm. Quite old, but very standard wards."

Dumbledore laid the book back on the table, raised his wand with a quick flick and swish along with a soft whisper. The clasps popped open and the book opened to the middle. Another swish and whisper and the pages turned, stopping at a page towards the end of the very thick book. "Solvo Ira potion?" He raised his head and looked at Severus with a question in his eyes.

"Yes. You'll need a translation charm for twelfth century Arabic, Palestinian dialect." Severus nodded.

A few more swishes and mumbles and the letters changed shape and rearranged themselves on the page. Hermione walked over to the table and read the directions for the potion over Dumbledore's shoulder.

"We have most of these ingredients here in stock, but not in the quantity needed. We may need to utilize supplies from Hogwarts. Is it the leaves of a bleeding juniper tree you referred to earlier, Professor?" inquired Hermione, still staring at the list of ingredients.

"You can see the text does not make it clear that the bleeding juniper leaves should be dried. We will use fresh instead." Severus instructed.

Hermoine nodded as Severus spoke. "It should diminish the effectiveness of the potion by two thirds. Very clever, Professor." Hermione raised her head and smiled at Severus, who inclined his head in response.

"The Dark Lord can cast any analysis spell he wishes over the completed potion and the ingredients will match those listed in this book. I believe Riddle's knowledge of the finer points of potion making runs far short of realizing what we have done. With any luck, I will not need to point out the other possible flaw. He will simply blame whomever he sends to cast the spell to activate the potion. After all, how many living wizards know the correct pronunciation of words from an Arabic dialect that has not been spoken in better than five hundred years? Unless he has used some of the Malfoy money to hire a linguistics expert in dead languages?" Severus smirked.

"Highly unlikely, as we well know," Dumbledore twinkled. "I believe we have this situation in hand. Assuming you and Hermione can produce the quantity required in what is now about eleven and three quarter hours?"

"Absolutely, Headmaster." replied Hermione, confidence shining in her posture and voice. "Professor Snape can get some rest. I'll start with the ingredients we have at hand, doing only preparation work, if that's agreeable to you Professor?"

Not pausing for an answer, Hermione continued. "No brewing should start without your supervision. And I can put together a list of things we will need. Dobby can get them from your storeroom at the school."

Hermione raised her head and looked at Lupin; "Remus, if you could get the fresh bleeding juniper leaves for us tomorrow? It would be best if they could be cut in the Forbidden Forest, rather than purchasing them. It could draw unwanted attention."

Remus nodded. "Right after breakfast, Hermione."

"Always your stomach first, Remus?" snorted Snape, with far less than his usual venom.

"Watch it Severus. You're going to a guest here tonight. I haven't played any really good practical jokes on you since Seventh Year," Remus chuckled.

"Hmph. Well, while you two banter half the night away instead of getting the sleep you both need, I'm going to work." Hermione looked at them primly, hands on her hips.

Dumbledore laughed; "Now that everyone has been duly chastised, I believe I shall depart for Hogwarts and leave Hermione to manage the situation." Dumbledore looked at the three fondly, eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. "Please make your list of needs, Hermione, and send Dobby. I will make sure everything you need is sent over. Goodnight gentlemen."

Dumbledore rose, smoothing his robes. He inclined his head and winked at Hermione, who grinned back at him. Dumbledore swept over to the fireplace, reached into a bowl on the mantle, threw a handful of powder into the fire and said; "Headmaster's rooms, Hogwarts." disappearing in a flash of green flame.

"You know, it is not entirely fair that he is the only person who can floo into Hogwarts from here," muttered Severus.

Hermione picked up the book and wooden box. She turned to the other two. "I'll take these downstairs and get started. See you both in the morning. Sleep well, Professor. Have Dobby get me if you need anything."

She turned and headed down towards the kitchen. Hermione set the box and book on the kitchen table, looked around, and called, "Dobby, I need you please."

Dobby winked in, smiling from ear-to-ear. "Miss Hermione needs something? Dobby is pleased to help Harry Potter's friend."

Hermione stood thoughtfully, tapping her index finger to her lips. 'He'll be dehydrated and he'll need the second doses during the night if he's going to sleep more than an hour or two.'

Hermione turned to the medicine cabinet, talking to the house elf as she moved. "Dobby, I need you to help Professor Snape. Could you go to his room and make sure his bed is turned down? He'll need a jug of water and a cup on the night stand."

She held out three bottles selected from the cabinet. "Could you make sure the tops are loosened on these so they'll be easy for him to open. Just leave them on the bedside table. Oh, and take this chocolate and leave it with the bottles."

Dobby reached up and took the bottles and chocolate.

"After you do that, I'll need you to come down into the lab so I can give you a list of things we'll need from Hogwarts," said Hermione, "Can you do reduction spells?"

Dobby nodded.

"Good," replied Hermione; "I'm going to need several things, including two number nine cauldrons. If you can shrink them, you can bring it all in one trip. Thank you very much, Dobby. I appreciate all the help you've been tonight."

Dobby gave her a delighted smile. "Dobby appreciates Miss Hermione. Miss Hermione helps house elfs get freed and be treated right. Dobby is glad to help." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Pushing her hair back, Hermione squared her shoulders and went downstairs into the basement laboratory.

-------------------

Severus took another sip of the tea; his hand far more steady than it was earlier. Remus looked at him with an amused smile.

"Yesterday, she was a school girl. Today, Hermione's bossing and managing two of her former professors."

"And succeeding quite nicely," mumbled Severus as he yawned.

"You should see her with Harry and Ron," smiled Remus, "Though to her credit, her bossiness has done them both good. Ron's used to it with Molly, though Hermione is far more subtle and tactful than Molly's ever been. Hermione kept Ron on track so his homework actually got done. Any NEWTs he got should have been credited to her.

"Harry equates being fussed over with being loved. God knows he had little enough of it while he was growing up. The Dursleys' barked out the orders and used him worse than any house elf. At least a house elf can count on eating regularly. Hermione made sure Harry did more at Hogwarts than play Quidditch and she reigned in some of his wilder impulses. She probably has done more to keep the two of them alive and in one piece than any of us."

"I do hope you are not actually comparing the two of us to Potter and Weasley. I shall retch if you are," drawled Severus. He looked at Remus suspiciously. "What do you mean about Potter being used worse than a house elf?"

"The Dursleys abused him, physically and emotionally. When Albus left Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep, I'm sure he believed he was protecting Harry. If he was right about Harry needing to live some time every year with a blood relative in order to preserve whatever protective magic Lilly's death gave him, then I suppose it was an option. It kept Harry alive, but utterly unloved and despised by the family entrusted with his care."

"They tried to try to beat the magic out of him, denied him any affection at all, half-starved him, and used him like a servant. Did you know he slept in a cupboard under the stairs until he was twelve? One year, his only Christmas gift was a toothpick?"

Severus looked at Remus, horror sneaking into his expression. "Who knew about this?"

"Until he came to Hogwarts, no one. Harry's not one to complain. Hermione probably got it out of him first. During his Third Year, Harry and I developed a friendship because of my connection to his parents. He confided bits and pieces of it to me. I don't think he ever really told Sirius the whole story out of concern that Sirius would just go and hex the Dursleys to bits."

"Dumbledore knows. I suspect he's known more of it all along than he's let on. I'll never understand why he sent Harry back to the Dursleys every summer. Harry would have been better off staying at Hogwarts all year round."

Remus took a deep breath and sighed. "If I hadn't left Hogwarts after my year in the DADA position, I would have asked Albus to let Harry stay over the summers with me to supervise him."

"You know Albus would not allow anything to interfere with the protection Lily gave Potter with her sacrifice," protested Severus.

"Damn it, Severus," Remus continued, frustrated, "Harry would have been better off staying with Hagrid every summer and I know Hagrid offered at the end of Harry's First Year. Some day, Albus is going to have to answer for that decision. Hagrid loves Harry and would have given him some consistency in his life."

"Surely you are not suggesting that Hagrid would be a suitable substitute parent for a child as difficult and impulsive as Potter," asked Severus irritably.

"An imperfect parent who was there consistently and whose love was unconditional would have been one hundred times better than what Harry had from the Dursleys," said Remus shaking his head regretfully.

"It's one of the reasons Harry is so screwed up. He took all that abuse early on. He learned he couldn't count on adults to keep him safe. Every adult he comes to care about dies or abandons him. That's why he relies on Ron and Hermione so much. It's no wonder he took off after the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets by himself and led a group of children on an invasion of the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius."

"I've failed him, Albus failed him badly, and Sirius died on him. No wonder he finds it impossible to trust other's willingness to look after his best interests. He was never given any reason as a child to believe he could. At some level, Harry believes he is fundamentally unworthy of anyone really caring about him and he deserves the abuse. Isn't that how abused children generally react?"

Remus looked at Severus, who looked stunned by the revelations. Remus took a breath and made a decision. "Severus, I know I'm treading where I'm not wanted, but you and Harry have more in common than you realize. What's more, I know you've done more to keep him alive and protected than he'll ever know. More, perhaps, than any adult, including Dumbledore. I'll always be grateful to you for that. I know Lily would feel the same."

"Enough, Remus," said Severus, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. "I am not going to start thinking of Potter as the son I never had and this is quite enough sentimentality. I am tired. There is not a part of my body which does not hurt and I have a potion to brew," he scowled.

He paused for a moment and looked back up at Remus. "I will consider what you have said."

Remus stood, stretched, and moved besides Severus. "I know you don't need any help, but your balance might be off after Crucio. I'll stand here just in case."

Severus moved slowly to the edge of the sofa, placed his hand on the arm and attempted to hoist himself out of the cushions. Remus reached down and caught Severus' elbow, and placed a hand on his back, helping him to his feet.

As soon as Severus was on his feet, Remus released his hold and moved back. Severus walked slowly towards the hallway, pain obvious in his posture. He reached the stairs and grasped the rail, pulling himself up the stairs, one step at a time. Remus stationed himself directly behind Severus, prepared to catch him if he started to collapse. Severus reached the top of the stairs and paused, breathing heavily, clearly spent from the effort.

Remus waited for Severus to start down the hallway. With a trembling hand, Severus opened the third door down, his usual room. He turned to Remus and nodded. "I will be fine. Good night," and stepped into the room.

"Lumos." Severus murmured. The tip of his wand sputtered a few times and the room filled with a dim light. He closed the door behind him.

Another whisper; "Divestio." His jacket unbuttoned and slipped from his shoulders.

"Damn. I cannot concentrate," he muttered. Moving his wand again, he repeated "Divestio."

This time, the jacket disappeared for a moment and reappeared folded neatly on the chair in the corner, his boots on the floor underneath.

"I have no energy for this," he grumbled. Still dressed in his shirt, trousers, and socks, Severus stumbled forward to the bed and sat, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, face in his hands.

After a moment, he raised his head and looked around the room. He registered the presence of the water, potions, and chocolate on the bedside table.

'She must have done it,' he thought, 'It's very like her.'

He climbed under the bed clothes, groaning as his cramped muscles protested. Severus sighed and turned his face to the wall. Eyes closed. In moments, the only sound heard was soft breathing, followed by the occasional shudder. Snape slept.

---------------------

In the cellar laboratory, Hermione set the leather bound book on the table.

"I can do this," she said to herself, "As devastating a potion as this has potential to be, it's not all that complicated."

Moving efficiently around the room, she assembled cutting boards, knives, mortar and pestle. She moved to the shelves and pulled down large tins and glass jars. Removing the lid of the first jar, she extracted dried flower petals and placed them on the cutting board. Using a short knife with a freshly sharpened blade, Hermione began to slice in precise motions.

"Oh yes, Dobby's list," she murmured. "Accio quill. Accio ink. Accio parchment."

Each item arrived in turn. Hermione dipped the quill in the ink and set to making the list of supplies.

---------------------

Authors notes:

The herbals and crystal listed for the Wolfsbane potion do have the properties described. However, it takes a good deal of magical training to produce the potion, so don't try this at home unless you have seven years at Hogwarts.

Solvo Ira potion: Release anger (in my rather pigeon-Latin). I've also noticed my high school and college German aren't so great when you don't use them for a few decades.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Genelle, LettyBIRD, Siren34, Jocemum (if you haven't read _Tea and Sympathy,_ go do it now), PhoenixFlight, AuntBecky, Vennela, Megan Conseor, Joani-the-Unique-Being, Lady-Rhian, Duj, -Muggle-To-The-Max, Skyblueheaven, Rinny08, Me613, Ccrawley10, Latinachikita, Badbugz, Severus-Fan, Aldara, and HumbugGirl.


	33. Chapter 33

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun and stress relief.

Thanks to Julia for catching about a dozen misspelled _Cruciatus_, one _gotten_, and several other suggestions. At least I got _waistcoat_ right.

As always, thank you to Amrun for punctuation lessons. Any errors you see are mine.

--------------------------

Severus and Hermione

October 4, 1998

The laboratory was quiet. The only sounds to be heard were a pestle against a mortar and the snipping sounds of greenery being cut from fresh branches. The Solvo Ira potion simmered softly in two cauldrons atop their burners.

Hermione set aside the nippers she was using to cut apart the branches of the bleeding juniper and chewed her lower lip, an old habit in times of indecision.

'If I'm going to do it, I need to do it now,' she thought.

Burning with curiosity and looking for odd connections between bits and pieces of things she had read, things she had learned, she knew she had to take the risk. She couldn't help him if she didn't ask. She raised her head from her work and looked at Professor Snape, picking up the nippers and continuing to strip fragrant but messy leaves from the branches, dripping thick red sap as she placed them in the bowl on the table.

"Professor, may I ask you a personal question?"

"No, you may not, Miss Granger," he replied. Severus stood over the cauldron, stirring carefully as he added the powder he carefully measured out of the mortar.

"Actually, sir, my question is probably more clinical than personal."

Severus looked up from the cauldron. The potion had turned orange, exactly as it should be at this stage. He placed a stirring spell on the ash stirring rod, eighty-three vigorous stirs, counter clockwise.

Miss Granger had been quiet most of the morning, apparently lost in thought. No criticism there, Severus was in the same frame of mind after his discussion with Remus the previous night. Severus stretched his neck and shrugged his shoulders, feeling the vertebra pop as he moved, releasing left over tension from the Cruciatus.

'Hmm, better,' he thought.

Severus examined the young woman working at the table, still dressed in her Muggle jeans and shirt from the day before, her long waistcoat discarded onto a laboratory stool. Her bushy hair caught up in twin combs on the sides and plaited at the nape of her neck.

It occurred to Severus that she was small. The top of Hermione's head reached just over his shoulder. He wondered how she had managed to manhandle him into the house the previous evening.

No, that was not entirely accurate. To be completely honest, she was respectful and considerate. He could not think of any other of his students outside of Slytherin who might have been willing to touch the greasy git, let alone the way she hoisted him up and let him lean on her until he was safely onto the sofa. The other touches of tea, potions, and chocolate were thoughtful. Special considerations were a rare experience in Severus' life. Perhaps he could indulge her this time.

"Very well, Miss Granger. I suppose I shall have no further peace until you have asked. However, I reserve the right to refuse to answer."

Hermione smiled. "That goes without saying, sir." Her expression grew serious, her eyes thoughtful.

"Professor, what does Crucio feel like?"

"I sincerely hope you never need to find out, Miss Granger," he replied, pausing thoughtfully, "Why this question?"

Severus looked at her, his features carefully schooled in neutrality. Somehow, prurient interest seemed unlike Hermione Granger. In her defense, she had not slept in more than twenty-four hours and her common sense might not be at its best. If necessary, he could simply redirect her into another topic of conversation.

"I've never seen anyone going through the aftereffects of Crucio close-up until last night. I just started wondering about the possibilities for treatments and if Muggle science might offer alternatives wizarding science hasn't thought of. I've been thinking about something I read. It was in a Muggle textbook on neurology."

"What year, Miss Granger?" drawled Severus.

"What year? I think the textbook was a few years old, but the information should still be current, sir," she answered with confusion in her voice. Hermione looked at Professor Snape with a puzzled expression.

"What year, as in how far ahead of your college classes are you reading? As I recall, you always arrived at Hogwarts with all your textbooks read for the upcoming year."

"Oh, that." Hermione straightened up and looked as if she were disclosing a guilty pleasure. "Well, I've always thought I should be well-prepared for the first day of class. This particular textbook is for the Third Years in the Potions program."

"Only two years ahead? Miss Granger, you surprise me. You always showed such initiative. Backsliding now that you are away from Hogwarts? Next you will be telling me you have not found your way even once into the Restricted Section of the Avalon College library." Severus raised an eyebrow.

Hermione smiled as she realized she was being teased. Severus Snape, snark master extraordinaire, bane of the existence of Hogwarts students for a generation, was teasing Hermione Granger about her compulsive study habits. Hermione's eyes lit up with pleasure at the thought of such acceptance from him. She decided to take another risk and tease back.

"And you're telling me you never found your way into the Hogwarts Library Restricted Section when you were a student?"

"No, Miss Granger. I am not telling you that. You will never hear me say such a thing," he retorted, his eyes belying the tone of his voice.

Hermione laughed. "So much for getting any confessions of rule breaking from Slytherin's Head of House."

"Indeed, Miss Granger. Now, back to the question of why you ask."

"I want to understand the physiology of what happens under the Cruciatus curse. You know that Harry got hit with it at the Ministry of Magic?"

Professor Snape nodded.

Hermione continued, "Harry described it to me as feeling like every nerve ending was on fire, like having electricity shot through every nerve of his body. He said it was the worst pain he'd ever experienced, shooting like waves throughout his body."

"I have had little experience with electricity since my days at college, other than the occasional electrical shock received from touching metal after walking across a carpet. Crucio is a hundred times more intense than that. But Mr. Potter's description of the pain moving like waves throughout the body is very apt."

The stirring charm ended. Severus moved back to the cauldron, adding a measure of the next ingredient. He flexed his wrist in an unconsciously graceful movement as he stirred and looked at Hermione.

"The closest I can come to describing it is as if someone poured acid into my central nervous system." Severus closed his eyes at the memory. He spoke softly, in a dreamy voice. "It comes in waves. When the power of the Dark Lord is behind it, it is even worse. There is nothing in the universe except pain, complete and utter agony. All I can do is curl up in the fetal position and wait it out till the wave passes. Then the muscles spasm and cramp uncontrollably afterwards. There is no pride left. I have run out of voice before I have run out of screams. I have watched strong wizards become incontinent from the pain. You learn not to fight it, to just flow with the pain, try to relax and take your mind somewhere else."

His eyes still closed, Severus relived the memories of his experiences.

"It is usually at least fifteen minutes from when the curse is cast before I am able to get to my feet. Then I try to gather what dignity I have left and walk, crawl, or whatever I have to do to get outside of the anti-apparation wards. Then, I apparate here or to Hogwarts, doing my best not to splinch myself. I prefer a Portkey, if I have one available."

Severus was silent for a moment, dragging himself away from the overwhelming memory. He remembered where he was, whom he was with, and brought himself back to the here and now. He opened his eyes and gazed at the young woman sitting on the lab stool.

Hermione was frozen in place. She watched Professor Snape as he closed his eyes and described the horrors of pain and torture in a melodious voice better suited to a poetry reading. She wasn't sure when her eyes started to tear. Perhaps it was in the moment she realized he'd been through this the night before and so many nights before that. Or maybe it was with the realization that he would go through it again and again, whether tomorrow or in a few months.

When his sibilant voice fell silent, Hermione realized there were tears on her face.

Severus startled when he realized she was crying. Hermione was not making a sound, just silent tears rolling down her face, staring at him with eyes wide with emotion. But what emotion? Horror, yes. Some pity. Yet, there was something else, something unfamiliar to him.

"Miss Granger," said Severus, shaking his head and looking down, "I apologize. I have told you more than you need to know and it has clearly upset you."

Hermione stood. She pushed the stool back and walked till she stood beside him, never taking her eyes off his face.

"How do you do it? How can you go back to him time and time again and let him do that to you? Why do you let Dumbledore make you go back?" Her voice shook with anger and something else. "How do you stay sane? How can you stand that kind of pain for even a minute and stay sane? How do you stay alive?"

Hermione reached up her hand and put it on his arm.

Severus had no doubt that if he were Potter, Weasley, or even Lupin, she would be embracing him.

He could not remember the last time anyone expressed such concern on his behalf. Enough that she did not hesitate to touch him, forgetting who and what he was and the persona he showed to the world. Perhaps that is why he answered instead of sending her away.

"Hermione," he said gently, "I have a mark on my arm that requires that I go back. I made a choice when I was younger than you are now, which put me on a path that brought me to this place in my life. Do not allow some sort of misplaced sentiment to make you see it any differently than that."

"You made a stupid teenager decision and you're supposed to pay for it for the rest of your life?" she protested, "By accepting a level of torture at the hands of a megalomaniac, which by all rights should have landed you in the locked ward at St. Mungo's or in a cemetery?"

"I know you were a Death Eater. I know you must have done terrible things in those times." Hermione stopped for a moment, caught her breath, and her voice gentled. "But you made a different choice and took a different path. You've made such a difference since then, to the Order, to your students, to people you've protected who don't even know what you've done or even who you are. Why do you have to keep paying like this?"

"Because I am the only one who can," he answered in a voice so soft, she could barely hear it.

His black eyes were gentle. Hermione gazed at him, overwhelmed.

Thoughts were spinning through her mind faster than she could examine. The feelings were too deep, too new to acknowledge, let alone analyze. She looked down, her mind moving through the thoughts and the feelings to the path that had always grounded her before.

'Find the problem. Find the bloody problem and solve it.' Her mind calmed, other issues stored away until she could find time to think them through. 'Focus. Remember why you are here.'

In a gesture Severus would come to know well, Hermione squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Her voice calmed.

"We have to find a way to fix it. I suppose the Dark Lord is a bigger problem than can be dealt with right now, but there has to be a way to fix Cruciatus."

Severus laughed. A wonderful full-bodied baritone laugh, putting a new light into his eyes that Hermione had never seen before. The bone aching weariness he wore on a daily basis fell away briefly, along with the lines on his face. For a moment, he looked younger, less worn.

"Leave it to you to take on the most difficult projects, especially those which have confounded wizards for generations. Hermione, in this, you have my full support." Severus paused; his own feelings would not bear further examination at this point. He looked for a way to bring their interaction back to a clinical level.

"Obviously, you have been giving this some thought. Tell me what you are considering."

Needing some space herself, Hermione sat back down on the lab stool. She picked up a small handful of juniper leaves from the bowl, took the knife and began to chop the leaves into small, neat, drippy pieces.

"This might take a little time to explain and it's convoluted. I don't know how much you know about Muggle science; so if I say anything you're unfamiliar with, stop me."

"You know how messages are passed from the brain through the nervous system by electrical impulses. The electrical impulses start within a cell and travel out via the dendrites, which are like fine filaments extending out of the cell structure. At the end of each dendrite is a receptor that fits a specific neurotransmitter."

"There are different neurotransmitters," she continued, "all chemicals that have a unique molecular shape so that only one kind of neurotransmitter can fit into a given receptor. Much like only one key will fit into a given lock. The electrical messages, whether to move, experience pain, feel cold, or whatever, are passed from the first cell through the dendrite where it moves into the receptor. When the receptor is filled with the proper neurotransmitter, the electrical charge leaps to the receptor at the tip of a dendrite from the second cell, assuming that receptor has the correct neurotransmitter in place."

"I am familiar with the concepts you are describing. Please continue." Severus looked expectantly at Hermione.

Hermione nodded and continued as she worked. "Muggle physicians have made real progress in studying disorders where cells in the nervous system are unable to properly pass the electrical impulses. The best example of this is epilepsy. Epileptic seizures occur when the electrical charges misfire, resulting in convulsions. The primary cause of epilepsy is insufficient amounts of a specific neurotransmitter in the blood. The second most common cause is brain damage."

"Muggle and wizarding healers have both learned that by ingesting certain medications or potions, disorders caused by insufficient neurotransmitters and most brain damage can be successfully treated. In the wizarding world, epilepsy is treated through potions and charms with a one hundred percent successful treatment rate."

"As has been the case since the Renaissance." remarked Severus.

"Exactly. The wizarding world has a resource the Muggle world does not. Although most Muggles with epilepsy have their symptoms under control, there are a significant number of them who do not. Muggle medications are not the whole answer. So Muggle physicians have experimented with other means, including electrical."

Severus straightened up, startled.

"No, no. It's not as bad as it sounds," remarked an amused Hermione. "Are you familiar with pacemakers?"

"That term is unfamiliar to me."

"I'm going to digress a bit. Many Muggles who experience problems with their heart rates have electronic devices implanted into their chests with wires going into the heart."

Professor Snape winced noticeably at the description.

Hermione grinned. "Honestly, it doesn't hurt. My grandfather had one for years before he died of normal Muggle old age at eighty-seven. And no, the pacemaker didn't kill him. It kept him alive for a long time. Whenever his heart rate would drop below sixty beats per minute, the pacemaker would detect it and administer an electrical pulse to his heart, just enough to bring his heart into a higher rate. Grandfather always said he couldn't even tell when it was happening. The whole unit was small and battery operated, with a very long-term battery. He was able to live a normal life with it."

Hermione shifted and poured chopped juniper leaves into a small container for weighing.

"Meanwhile, back to epilepsy," said Hermione, enjoying the fact that Professor Snape was listening closely to everything she was describing. "Muggle physicians are using a similar kind of technique for people who have epilepsy that is not controlled through medication. A pacemaker of sorts is implanted into the chest with a wire running to the vagus nerve in the neck. At regular intervals, the implant sends an electrical charge into the nerve that travels into the brain, preventing seizures. From what I've read, there are some Muggles who have achieved one hundred percent control of their seizures using this vagus nerve stimulator and medication."

Hermione looked up at the Professor. "Has anyone ever done a study where they measured the volume and type of neurotransmitters in the blood of recent Cruciatus victims?"

"I see where you're going with this." Severus cast the stirring spell over both cauldrons again and sat on a lab stool facing Hermione. "You are theorizing that Cruciatus effects the transmission of messages and therefore, the mechanism is in the neurotransmitters."

"It's a possibility. Cruciatus is a curse, not a potion, at least as it popularly used. I understand there are dark potions which garner the same effect." Hermione grimaced as she spoke.

Severus nodded thoughtfully and replied, "Yes, but they are rarely seen. The curse is much more convenient and requires no advance preparation. Especially in duels or, as the Dark Lord prefers, in raids or punishments."

Hermione nodded agreement. "Perhaps the Cruciatus curse directly affects the neurotransmitters, but it could also do so indirectly. What if Cruciatus works by sending excessive messages through the central nervous system, resulting in overload and misfiring? It could explain the pain and spasms."

"It would be like massive amounts of electricity in each cell of the central nervous system with no place to go. When the curse wears off, are the receptors temporarily damaged? Something that wizards can automatically heal, but Muggles can't? Do the levels of neurotransmitters drop? Are the tremors and cramping actually some form of seizure?"

Hermione continued speculating. "We know that most wizards recover completely from a single or even multiple experiences with Cruciatus, given time, analgesics, and muscle relaxants. But, not Muggles. Muggles rarely survive."

A look of horror crossed her face. Her eyes went wide and bright as she looked at Professor Snape. "My parents," she whispered; "Did they do this to my parents?"

Severus leaned towards her and spoke gently. "No, Hermione. Everything I have been told about that night says that the Lestranges were under orders to move quickly from one house to another and kill everyone inside. They had five homes to hit and a deadline of four hours in which to do it. Your parents were the first victims that night. The Lestranges had no time; they simply went in, cast Avada Kadavra, and moved on. It was murder, but your parents died quickly. There was no torture."

Severus could not be entirely certain of this, but saw no reason to leave Hermione to wonder.

Hermione looked away and then down at his hand on the table. She noticed a pale scar across the top of his hand. His nails were short, neatly trimmed and squared.

"Thank you for telling me, Professor." She sniffed a few times and wiped her eyes with her free hand. She looked up and smiled sadly. "Just when I think I've dealt with it, it comes back."

Hermione stood and reached for the waistcoat she'd laid on the chair, fishing in the pocket for a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"So," she said, "Wizards have a way to repair the damage that Muggles don't. It must be related to magic." Hermione paused a moment, looking thoughtful. She turned to Snape. "Sir, when you're undergoing Cruciatus or soon after, are you able to use magic?"

"There is too much pain during the aftermath to do anything but lie on the ground and whimper. I have never even tried to use magic then and I honestly do not believe I would be capable of it. I am certain I have never seen anyone undergoing Cruciatus who was able to use magic at the time. Once I am recovered enough to move, it takes all the focus, energy, and willpower I have to Apparate or Portkey out."

Severus leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. His eyes looked towards the ceiling as he tried to recall. "For several hours after Cruciatus, I am not as effective in use of magic. I have attributed it to lack of concentration due to pain and exhaustion."

"I'll have to think about how we can get information about neurotransmitters in the wizarding versus the Muggle population. This just might be something I'm not going to find in a book." Hermione shook her head.

"The answer to a question cannot be found in a book?" quipped Severus.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm probably not going to find a wizarding neurologist out there, either. Still, there has to be a way to research this. If there is some way to block the neural receptors from doing their job, we might be able to stop the pain from Cruciatus."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know I'm going read everything I can get my hands on in Muggle science that might address this."

Severus said with a smirk. "It is an excellent project and I look forward to learning more about what you find in your research. Right now, you have been awake for better than twenty-four hours and would benefit from some sleep. I am quite capable of finishing things here. I suggest you go upstairs and turn in for an hour or two. Doubtless Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will be calling in when they are off duty for a joyous reunion with the best third of their trio."

Hermione smiled. "Doubtlessly, sir."

"Thank you for your assistance with the potion. It was... adequate."

"Thank you for calling me by my first name," said Hermione, "All my friends do."

Severus considered for a moment whether or not he was ready to be on a first name basis with his honorary apprentice.

"You realize the only place we can possibly be on a first name basis is in this house. Anywhere else jeopardizes my ability to spy on the Dark Lord for the Order. I cannot treat you any differently away from here to the way that I always have." He raised an eyebrow in question.

"I understand, Professor. I will do my best to ignore the fact of your existence anywhere but here." Hermione looked up at him and smiled.

"Severus. My name is Severus, Hermione." The edges of his mouth turned up, giving just the barest hint of smile.

"Severus. It does suit you, you know." Hermione yawned. "I'll bid you good night, then. Or, maybe good afternoon. I think it's after lunch."

Hermione turned and picked up her waistcoat from the stool and moved towards the stairs.

"I do have a request of you," said Severus, "When you get back to Avalon, I would like you to purchase a copy of that neurology textbook and send it to me via Professor McGonagall. It will give me a chance to read it before you return for your next visit. I will repay you. No, you may not refuse to accept repayment. You are a student on a budget and you will not buy expensive textbooks and give them away."

"I'll be happy to Pro-." she paused, "No, it's Severus. I'll send it right away. Will I see you before I leave?"

"Probably not." Severus waved to the cauldrons. "I will need to deliver this as soon as it is finished. You should still be asleep. I will see you during your next visit."

"You'll let me know through the journal how it turns out?"

"I will."

"Until next time, then. Please be careful, Severus." Hermione was reluctant to turn away, to actually walk up the stairs, to walk away.

"I am always careful, Hermione. Go ahead." Snape's eyes followed Hermione until she closed the door behind her at the top of the stairs.

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Author's notes

The science described here is real. The description of how messages are sent through the nervous system via dendrites, receptors, and neurotransmitters is correct. Epilepsy works as described and the vagus nerve stimulator is a wonderful device making life better for thousands of people with epilepsy. Could Cruciatus work in one of the ways described? Who knows where magic and science meet and meld?

I hope all of you who have been waiting anxiously for the relationship between Severus and Hermione to begin to change are less frustrated. It has taken a long time to get here, but I hope you find the evolution realistic. They still have a long journey ahead of them and much to go through along the way.

Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave reviews. Your comments and our discussions mean a lot to me. Spring tulips go to: Jocemum, MollysSister, Bakaonigirii, Tranquility, Megan Consoer, Duj, Siren34, Green-eyed-angel, Lady-Rhian, Rinny08, Ms.Understood, Severus-Fan, Mugglemomof3, Latinachikita, and Me613


	34. Chapter 34

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Happy birthday to Julia's ten-year old twins! Your mother is quite brilliant you know. And thank you to Amrun for the lessons.

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Hermione and Severus

October 4, 1998

Hermione popped into the transportation room on the first floor of St. Germain Hall. She stepped out and shrugged her backpack over her shoulder, picked up her weekender bag, and walked to the elevator.

Five minutes later, she stood in front of the door to her room. "Honeydukes' finest." she said and the door opened. Hermione stepped inside and set the bags on the floor, hurrying over to her desk, reaching to the bottom drawer. "Quidditch sucks." The drawer opened and Hermione reached in and pulled out four journals. Taking out the black one, She looked for a glow on the cover, the signal of an entry.

"Not yet," she sighed.

She felt a furry form winding itself around her ankles. "Hello Crooks. Did you have a quiet weekend with Thekla and Butterscotch? I brought you some of that good catnip you like from the backyard at the Order's headquarters. There's some for Thekla and Butterscotch, too. I want to say thank you to their mums for looking after you."

Hermione reached into the basket of cat toys and pulled out a toy mouse. She took out a small bag of leaves from the backpack. Pinching a generous amount, she inserted it into a flap on the toy mouse and tossed it across the room. Crookshanks dashed over and pounced. Hermione sat back down on the desk chair and closed her eyes, thinking.

Hermione had taken a two-hour nap after she left the Professor in the cellar laboratory. She woke when she heard Harry and Ron stomping about in the hallway. She joined them down in the kitchen after they had showered.

Whether or not it was a good idea, Hermione warned them about the Solvo Ira potion, feeling they were at least forewarned about the threat to the Quidditch match. They had to be careful not to appear to have known anything ahead of time. As trainee Aurors, they might not be called out to deal with it anyway.

"Hermione," said Ron, "Harry and I have to be really careful how we handle inside information."

"I never appreciated how difficult this is for Tonks and Shacklebolt," said Harry, "Being members of the Order, we sometimes find out intelligence about upcoming Death Eater activities. As trainee Aurors, we really can't act on it. In our first year of training, we're not allowed to go anywhere without the supervision of a designated Auror trainer."

"Besides," added Ron, "If Magical Law Enforcement knew we were part of any organization that might influence our actions on a case, we'd be thrown out."

"During our second year," said Harry, "We're allowed to work with partners who are full-fledged Aurors. Tonks and I have talked and she's going to see if I can be assigned to her when I reach my anniversary. Shacklebolt and Dumbledore have been talking about which other Order member among the Aurors they could get Ron assigned to. That would make it a whole lot easier."

"So, Snape let you work with him on the potion the Death Eaters are going to use?" asked Ron, skepticism clearly on his face. "Did you get to do anything beside scrub cauldrons?"

"Oh Ron, grow up," groaned Hermione, "Would you please get over that nonsense you've got running in your head about Professor Snape. He's on our side. He has been all along. We worked on the Solvo Ira potion to sabotage it. It won't work anywhere near as well as Voldemort thinks."

"Snape might be on our side," retorted Ron, "That doesn't mean he isn't a right bastard."

"You have to admit he still treats us like we're Third Years caught out after curfew," added Harry.

"No offense to the both of you, but he treats the two of you like Third Years caught out after curfew. He doesn't treat me like that at all," said Hermione, pointedly, "A lot of it is in the way you treat him. You expect him to act like a _right bastard_ so you treat him like one. He treats you right back exactly the way you expect. Maybe if you were polite to him and stopped making snotty remarks whenever he's around, you might see a difference."

Hermione leaned forward, "Have you watched how Remus deals with Professor Snape?"

"See, now that's what I'm talking about Hermione," snorted Ron, "He's always talking down to Remus and making snide remarks."

"No," insisted Hermione, "You're thinking back to the Shrieking Shack when Professor Snape had a wand to Remus' throat because he believed Remus was trying to help Sirius escape. He did say pretty nasty things to Remus and to Sirius because he believed they were implicated with Harry's parents' death."

Hermione shook her head. "You're letting that incident color your impression of every other interaction you've seen between them. If you really watch them now, you'll see something very different. Professor Snape makes a nasty remark to Remus, but there's no venom to it. Remus will make a nasty remark back, but the tone of his voice is teasing. It's their form of banter."

"Ron, it's no different than when you call Harry a wanker and Harry calls you a git. Neither of you really means anything by it. There are plenty of other times I've seen Professor Snape and Remus sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea, and discussing idiots at the Ministry. In a fight, either one of them would be watching the other's back. There may be bad blood between them, but I think they've set a lot of it aside so they can work together."

Hermione took a breath. "Professor Snape has a very dry, absolutely wicked sense of humor. He's also got a tendency to pick out a person's sore spot and go at it so he can get a reaction out of them. He teases Dumbledore in a way I'd describe as affectionate. Dumbledore teases him back the same way. I think he knows it's safe to do that with Dumbledore and that it's safe to tease Remus. Ron, he teases your Mum, but never about anything that would really hurt her feelings and she gives it right back to him. She's not the least put off by him."

Ron looked sheepish. "I don't think Mum would be put off by Voldemort."

Harry and Hermione laughed.

"I think you're right about that," said Harry. "We ought to rethink our strategy and set your Mum on him. A couple weeks of nagging about eating enough, wearing a warm enough jumper, and coming in at a decent hour and he'd either give up thoughts of world conquest or he'd take better care of himself and not be so cranky."

The sound of laughter from the kitchen could be heard throughout the house.

"Especially if we could get him to comply with coming in a decent hour. He wouldn't be so tired if he weren't running those Death Eater meetings so late. And if he ate properly, he wouldn't be so constipated. It could only improve his disposition," snorted Harry.

Hermione clutched her stomach, laughing so hard tears rolled down her face. Remus chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. "What's so funny?"

"We... we," choked Hermione. She caught her breath. "We were imagining setting Molly on Voldemort and letting her mother him to death."

Remus joined in on the laughter. "The three of you may have come up with the creative breakthrough we've been needing. Molly Weasley, secret weapon of the Order of the Phoenix. We'll have to explore this new strategy at our next meeting. If Voldemort had proper mothering growing up, he probably wouldn't have felt the need to turn himself into some sort of snake."

The chuckles gradually died down as everyone paused to breathe.

Hermione looked up at Remus. "I take it Professor Snape has left with the Solvo Ira?"

"He left an hour ago. Severus commented about how helpful you were in getting it done, especially since he was recovering from Crucio." Remus looked at Hermione thoughtfully.

"I'm glad I was able to help. I really enjoy working with him on potions. It's a good learning experience, even if the Solvo Ira isn't exactly something I can report on as a class project."

Hermione looked out the window. "It's getting late and I need to get back to the college."

"Before you go," said Remus, "I believe you should have the honor of seeing this." He reached into the medicine storage cabinet in the kitchen and withdrew the bottle of Wolfsbane that Hermione and Severus had prepared the day before. He gave Hermione a wry smile and uncapped the potion."

"I've tried drinking it warm, cold, and every way in between," said Remus, "It still tastes like liquid shit smells."

He raised the bottle to his lips and chugged the contents as quickly as he could. Remus' mild features twisted into the nastiest face Hermione could imagine and he shook himself like a wet dog in reaction to the taste.

"OH, BLECH!" cursed Remus, taking a few deep breaths.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry grimaced in sympathy, wincing as Remus made a series of disgusted faces and drank a glass of water to wash the potion down.

His face smoothed out into Remus' more normal amiable expression. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Remus opened his eyes and looked at Hermione.

"It feels like the Wolfsbane is working," he said, giving Hermione a grateful smile with a hint of sadness. "I can feel a calming effect, just like I have the other times I've taken Professor Snape's Wolfsbane."

Hermione reached across to Remus and gave him a hug. She looked up at the taller man.

"I'm glad its working and I'm so sorry it tastes so awful," she said apologetically.

Remus tightened his arms around Hermione and kissed her on the forehead.

"Its a few minutes of unpleasantness in exchange for a transformation where I don't have to worry I'm going to hurt someone," he said. "I am more grateful to Severus and now to you than you will ever know."

Hermione smiled up at him. "You're welcome," she said softly, "Getting to help someone else is one of the reasons I want to get into this business."

Remus looked at Harry and Ron. "Whether he admits it or not," said Remus, meaningfully, "It is one of the reasons Severus is a Potions Master. He is the most brilliant Potions Master I know of. I know one of the reasons he developed Wolfsbane is because I almost killed him when we were teenagers. In spite of that, he prepares the Wolfsbane for me each month."

Ron and Harry exchanged a thoughtful look.

Remus let go of Hermione and she stepped away. She grasped his hand.

"Have as good a transformation as you possibly can," she said.

"I'll be heading down to the specially adapted storage room in the cellar in a few hours," replied Remus, "With any luck, I'll sleep for most of the next three days. With Wolfsbane, I will be fine." Remus squeezed Hermione's hand again. "Thank you again."

"You're welcome, again," said Hermione. She looked at Harry and Ron. "I really have to go."

Ron stood and picked up her weekender bag. Harry grabbed her book bag. "We'll walk you out back, Mione." Lupin opened the back door and followed the three out to the back of the yard, outside of the anti-apparation wards.

"As soon as you hear anything about the Solvo Ira, please let me know through the journals. I'm anxious to know if the potion worked in the way Professor Snape intended and what happens at the Quidditch match."

"We're both due to go on duty in a couple of hours. Lucky us, night shift. It'll probably be tomorrow, Mione," said Ron. He walked up to Hermione and gave her a hug. Harry joined him in the hug and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Come back as soon as you can. We miss you."

"You know I will." Hermione smiled. "Promise me you'll think about what we discussed?"

Ron looked at Harry. "Git," he said.

"Wanker," replied Harry.

Hermione laughed as she pulled out the Portkey and vanished.

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Hermione opened her eyes and checked the covers of the journals. Still nothing. She set them aside on the desk and opened her notebook computer. Reaching up to the shelf above the desk, she selected her calculus textbook and began to study. Every few minutes, she stopped to check the covers of the journals.

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It was well after midnight before Severus apparated to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He paused and looked up at the night sky, stars twinkling in a cloudless sky. Looking back down, he shrugged off the Death Eater robes he was wearing. A wave of his wand reduced them to a size that would fit into his pocket. Severus walked towards the castle in the distance.

Reaching his rooms, Severus strode to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face and washed his hands, wiping both with a towel. Moving back into the small parlor, he reached into a silver bowl on mantle and tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Severus? I take it you are back. Unharmed I hope?" answered the familiar voice.

"I am uninjured."

"Will you join me then? I have a bottle of fine brandy here," said Albus.

Snape stepped into the fire and stepped out into the Headmaster's rooms. He brushed the soot off his robes and swept his hair back off his face. Albus Dumbledore sat in one of a pair of winged back chairs. A small table stood between them, two brandy snifters and a bottle resting on top. Snape dropped tiredly into the second chair. Dumbledore lifted the bottle and poured the amber-colored liquid into the two snifters.

"Can I order you something to eat, Severus?"

"No Albus, I had something while I was at Malfoy Manor," replied Severus, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

"Is that where you've been?" inquired Dumbledore, "I was getting concerned."

"No need to be. Everything went as planned. The potion worked perfectly, as least by our definition of it." Severus took a sip of the brandy, letting it burn its way down his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head against the chair.

Dumbledore set down his snifter. "The reports I've received about events at the stadium were very positive. Twenty minutes into the game, several minor skirmishes broke out between fans of rival teams. As you predicted, there were black eyes and bloody noses. Nothing serious. It will probably rate nothing more than a short mention in the sports pages of tomorrow's _Prophet_. There was no sign of the Dark Mark."

"By the Dark Lord's definition, that is the only good thing that happened today. As I expected, he did an analysis charm of the Solvo Ira when I delivered it to him. He was entirely satisfied with the potion itself. What I did not know until I got there was that Lucius Malfoy was directed to lead the team at the stadium and to speak the incantation."

"Malfoy did exactly as instructed and the potion converted into a mist that dispersed through the stadium. A few minutes later, minor fights started to break out. When Lucius realized the effect was far less than it should have been, he withdrew the team and forbade casting the Dark Mark over the stadium. He knew the Dark Lord would not want this failure flaunted in public." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, stress in every line of his body.

"I was standing attendance on the Dark Lord, awaiting the return of the team. When Malfoy came back and gave his report, Riddle was as angry as I have ever seen him. He put the full blame for the failure on Lucius. I stopped counting at four rounds of Crucio. Fortunately, Pettigrew cast them at the Dark Lord's direction. If Riddle had cast them himself, Malfoy would be insane or dead."

"Members of the inner circle were offered the opportunity to kick the shit out of him. I had to be very careful and wait till the circle was dismissed and the Dark Lord apparated out. Lucius was still unconscious. I apparated both of us to Malfoy Manor."

"Will he survive?" Dumbledore's eyes were hooded.

"Not for lack of trying on Pettigrew's part. Narcissa and I have plenty of experience in dealing with Crucio and the kinds of injuries inflicted by vengeful Death Eaters. Broken ribs, a punctured lung, probably a ruptured spleen, broken fibula, various and sundry other injuries. We spent the best part of two hours putting Lucius back together and stabilizing him. That he was unconscious through the whole process is the only good point in all of it. I believe he will survive, but he is going to take a long time to recover."

"I know you and Malfoy have a friendship of sorts. This is not your fault, Severus." Dumbledore refilled Snape's glass.

"No, I realize that. If I had known Lucius was going to be blamed I would have looked further for an alternative way of dealing with the problem. Though I have thought it through in the last few hours and cannot think of anything else I could have tried."

"This may sound callous, but is there a way to use this abuse of Lucius Malfoy to our advantage?" Dumbledore looked at Snape expectantly.

'Isn't that just like you, old man?' thought Snape as the rage built behind his closed eyes. 'You're like a damn vulture, waiting to pick the meat off the bones of any situation.'

Severus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm himself.

"It is possible," he replied, "Lucius has been disenchanted with the Dark Lord for a while. He has implied it to me in small ways and his efforts to get Draco out of the country to avoid having to take the Dark Mark would indicate that, too. Being beaten and Crucioed nearly to death may turn his thinking further away from the Dark Lord. I will cultivate his disaffection. At some point in the near future, when Lucius is further along in his recovery, it may be time to take a risk in what I reveal to him about my own double role the matter." Severus stretched out his long legs.

"The Dark Lord may be angry, but I do not believe he wants Malfoy dead or completely out of the inner circle. The Malfoy fortune is largely at the Dark Lord's disposal and he will not put that at risk. I will monitor the situation carefully as it evolves and let you know what is happening." Severus put the empty brandy glass back onto the table.

"I am tired and would like to clean up and seek out my bed." Severus raised his head and looked at Dumbledore. "Thank you for the brandy."

"You are most welcome, Severus."

Both men stood and Dumbledore walked over to Severus, placing a gnarled hand on his shoulder. "Son, this has been very difficult for you tonight. I appreciate that. You did what was difficult, but right. I do not thank you nearly enough for what you do, for the hard choices you have to make every day."

"I will always try to live up to my responsibilities, Albus," replied Severus. He moved away from Dumbledore's hand and tossed the powder into the fireplace. "Potion Master's rooms," he said and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing in the green flame.

-----------------------

Severus stepped out of the shower, feeling as if he'd at least washed away the grit of the day, if not the flavor of it. He looked at his bed and then looked at his desk. The journal was sitting in the top drawer.

'Hermione has been waiting a long time for word,' he thought.

Severus moved to the desk and opened the drawer. The black cover gave a soft glow. He sat on the desk chair, opened the journal, and began to read.

_Dear Severus,_

_It is late afternoon here in Chicago. I thought I'd write you a line or two before I go to the library. I've got a calculus test in the morning and an essay_ _to finish on the effects of different methods of distillation on essential oils. If I'd had a computer at Hogwarts, I could probably just retrieve the essay I wrote for you last year and resubmit it. You're far more critical in your comments than Professor DeBastain. _

_I listened to Wizarding Wireless and heard nothing but the scores from today's Quidditch matches. I'm going to assume that means everything went well._

_I wanted to thank you again for letting me work with you on the Solvo Ira. I'm so far away, most of the time I feel like I'm not helping the effort in any way. Our discussion of the other matters meant a lot to me. I realize you don't often disclose personal information to others. That you trusted me... Well, thank you for that._

_I hope you're all right and our plot escaped detection. Take care,_

_Hermione_

Severus leaned back. They had spent so much time talking yesterday. Or was it the day before? The time blended together.

There had been no time to process their discussion. It was... unique. Yes, unique to his experience. He could not remember the last time he had discussed such personal things with anyone. Certainly there were a lot of conversations with Albus, but they were centered on reporting information or strategizing. Not conversations about feelings.

'She was interested in my feelings,' he thought. 'When I described my response to Crucio to her, she was moved to tears. When was the last time anyone cried over me? Cried because I was in pain? Never, that I can recall. Is she that tender hearted? Unlikely. The Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff.'

Severus turned in the chair, facing towards the fireplace. 'She looked to me for comfort when she thought her parents might have been tortured.'

He stood, walked to a cabinet in the corner and opened the door. He removed a bottle of firewhisky and poured a measure or two into a glass, sitting back down at the desk.

"Get serious, Snape," he lectured himself, "A nineteen-year-old girl felt badly for you because you had been tortured. She would feel badly if it happened to anyone she knows. It is not personal, it is just her."

Severus tossed down the drink and set the glass back on the desk. He tapped his fingers on the cover of the journal. 'She was sincere," he thought, 'Maybe there is something more to it than that. She is sincere with her friends.'

Severus opened the cover of the journal and turned to the letter he had just read. Taking a quill, he began to write.

_Hermione,_

_It has been a very long day. It is almost 3 am here. You are correct in your assumption about the meaning of just hearing Quidditch scores on the Wizarding Wireless. The potion worked exactly as we intended and little damage was done. Needless to say, the Dark Lord was displeased. The person who recited the spell was punished for the failure. Our sabotage of the potion went undetected. The whole series of events occupied the whole day and I returned just a short time ago._

_I must thank you for your assistance in preparing the Solvo Ira. After as much Crucio as I received the other night, I often have problems with my hands shaking for a few days. It would have been difficult for me to prepare the ingredients on my own. Should I find myself in a similar situation in the future, I would not hesitate to impose upon you for your aid._

_As for our discussion, I do not believe anyone has ever asked me the question you did. I've never truly explored my own responses to being cursed. It was enlightening for me as well. _

_I have every confidence you will do quite well with your test tomorrow and the essay tonight. Do not forget, sometimes more is just more._

_When you next return to England, I would like the opportunity to continue our discussions about treatments for Crucio. What you are learning about Muggle medicine may be very relevant to improving current treatments. As I said before, I have a vested interest in seeing to the development of more effective treatments._

_I am quite well and unharmed after today's events. Thank you for your good wishes. I bid you goodnight._

_Severus_

Severus closed the journal and put it back into the drawer. He walked into the bedroom, tossed his robe onto the chair and climbed into bed. He waved his hand. The lights went out.

---------------

Hermione lay on the narrow daybed; Crookshanks curled into the bend of her legs. The light from the building across the street streamed in through the window, forming patterns of red and blue on the wall and ceiling.

The black journal lay on table in front of the daybed. Right where she could see it. Especially since she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. The moment the glow registered in her mind, Hermione pulled herself up, dislodging the cat who scooted down towards the end of the bed giving her the equivalent of a dirty look.

Hermione grabbed the journal and reached for her wand. "Lumos," she murmured and light issued from the tip. She opened the journal and saw the spidery handwriting and began to read. She breathed a sigh of relief.

'He's all right. He's all right. He's all right.'

Hermione clutched the journal to her chest, turned off the light, and lay back down. She closed her eyes.

---------------------

Author's notes:

Thank you to all my reviewers. Real life put me behind in answering, but I plan to this weekend. They are: Angeliclygood, Tranquility, Latinachikita, Indie Fairy, Sevvy Lover, Evilmastermind 666, Princessfiona, Jocemum, Droxy, Joani-The-Unique-Being, Duj, Me613, Lady Rhian, Badbugz, Bakaonigirii, Aunt Becky, Severus-Fan, Muggle-To-The-Max, Rinny08, Siren34, Mugglemomof3, LettyBIRD, MollysSister, and Snapedreamer.


	35. Chapter 35

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

As always, thank you to Julia for doing her level best to eliminate the Midwestern United States twang from my writing. And thank you to Amrun who just spent a week at a leadership conference; which is no surprise given that brilliant brain of hers.

-----------

Author's note: This chapter was tricky to do because the software here will not allow e-mail addresses to be posted in stories. Anywhere the "at" symbol should be, the word _at_ will appear instead.

Needless to say, these e-mail addresses will only work if you are able to access American Wizards On-Line, which requires having an account with them. They have an autopayment program that allows direct deduction from your Gringotts account. You must also have a Digital Magic computer with a special enchanted chip.

These are the e-mail addresses:

Hermione Granger:HJGranger at awl . com (Of course, she'd have a serious name)

Draco Malfoy:Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Adam Schuler:Compwiz27 at awl . com

Anita Schuler:Charmed23 at awl . com

Daniel Schuler:Digitalmage at awl . com (Of course he'd have the best name. He

_owns_ AWL)

Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . com

Warren Stevens:Nyluvrboy6 at awl . com

---------------------

Correspondence

Autumn 1998

---------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To: Dragonboy12 at awl . com, Charmed23 at awl . com, Nyluvrboy6 at awl . com

From: HJGranger at awl . com

Date: October 8, 1998

Subject: My hair

Sorry. Version #2 of the hair conditioner didn't do the job. It left too much residue on my hair and made it oily. Warren and I talked about it today and have an idea. What do you think about decreasing the amount of jojoba and increasing aloe instead?

----------

To: HJGranger at awl . com, Dragonboy12 at awl . com, Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Nyluvrboy6 at awl . com

Date: October 8, 1998

Subject: Hermione's Hair Project

Hermione's right. Maybe we should check with Professor Boch and find out for certain that we aren't allowed to get a professional analysis of the ingredients from the #1 selling brand.

After all, it's just reverse engineering. Maybe we could bring a Third or Fourth Year Potions student in on the project? They know how to do the analysis. Then we'd know what the proportions are without this trial and error approach. Besides, with Hermione's curly hair we can't have her keep washing it over and over, even with using conditioner. It's bad for curly hair – dries it out too much.

I love your hair, Hermione. Kiss. Don't listen to what anyone says. It's a great color and it is your crowning glory.

Can we meet at 5:30 pm for dinner tonight to go over where we are on our project? They're serving teriyaki chicken, which is one of the few decent things they make.

----------

To: HJGranger at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 8, 1998

Subject: Plans

Hermione,

I am really looking forward to tomorrow night. This whole week has been a bitch with classes and studying and I'm ready for a break. I'll stop by your room at 6 pm. Our dinner reservations at Ed Debevic's are for 6:30 pm. Its nineteen fifties retro there, they treat the guests rudely as a part of the entertainment, and the food is great.

_What Dreams May Come_ has an 8 pm showing. I like Robin Williams' comedies, but he does some really excellent dramatic roles. You have to watch _Dead Again_ with me sometime. It's practically a film noir about reincarnation and Robin Williams has this really dark cameo role in it. Seems to me one of the actors in it resemblesa famous wizarding writer from England. The movie is one of my favorites.

I was able to get tickets for the Pearl Jam concert on the 23rd. Would you like to go?

Later,

Adam

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**Owled Correspondence**

October 8, 1998

Narcissa to Severus

Dear Severus,

The healer has taken up temporary residence here at the Manor. She tells me Lucius is too unstable to be left unattended and I will not have him at St. Mungo's. The blood clot in his lung has dissipated, but with the repair work we did and that the healer did afterwards, there is still a risk of more clots. Thank you for bringing the pain relief and blood thinning potions she requested. On a positive note, Lucius is getting irritable, which is always a good sign in his recovery. If you are able to visit this weekend, I know he would appreciate your company.

With my deepest affection and appreciation for your help

Narcissa

------------

**Owled Correspondence**

October 9, 1998

Severus to Narcissa

Dear Narcissa,

I shall be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, I have patrol duty with the urchins in residence tonight or I would be there this evening. I am relieved to read Lucius is doing better. Keeping the healer in residence is a wise precaution, at least for the next few days. If there are any specialty potions Lucius requires, contact me immediately.

What does Draco know about his father's condition? As you know, we are corresponding by paired journals and if he asks, I prefer not to lie outright to him, though a little dissembling for the sake of his peace of mind is not out of the question.

Please give Lucius my best wishes.

Until tomorrow,

Severus

----------

**Paired Journal Entry, Hermione to Ginny**

October 11, 1998

Hi Ginny,

So, Harry is going to be able to get off on the 31st to go with you to the Halloween Ball at Hogwarts? That's great. I know you'll both have a terrific time. I'm amazed he was able to get that particular evening. Halloween tends to be a busy time for the Aurors with all of the magical practical jokes that go on.

How are Fred and George doing with their new Halloween Horrors Line?

I had a nice time with Adam on Friday night. We went to this restaurant decorated like a 1950's American diner and the wait staff (that's what they call them here) were dressed in 1950's outfits. The food was excellent – the best cheeseburger I've ever had. Then we went to see a movie. I didn't care for it, but it was probably because it was about death and the afterlife and I found it depressing. It wasn't Adam's fault; he doesn't know anything about what happened. I'm probably overly sensitive because the first anniversary is coming up.

Stop feeling guilty. The 19th is on a Monday and everybody is working or at school, including me.

School is coming fine. Calculus is by far the hardest class, but I'm keeping my head above water. Potions is my easiest class. After seven years of Professor Snape, this teacher is an amateur by comparison.

Did you get your application in to St. Mungo's yet? Let me know as soon as you hear something.

Give your folks and Ron a hug for me and a big smooch for Harry if you see him. I miss you all.

Hermione

-------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: October 12, 1998

Re: You idiot

Why in the world did you take Hermione to THAT MOVIE, YOU JERK! I told you her parents were murdered and the first anniversary is coming up soon. So what do you do on your date? You take her to a movie about a family with two dead children, a dead husband, a wife who commits suicide and goes to hell, and a very confusing afterlife. I don't care if you say it had a happy ending.

No wonder Hermione was completely bummed out.

NOW YOU DO SOMETHING TO CHEER HER UP. Or I'm coming after you with a short list of my favorite hexes.

---------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 12, 1998

Reply: Re: You idiot

Okay, I'm a complete idiot. I didn't really know what the movie was about before we went; I just knew Robin Williams was in it so I thought it would be good. I didn't mean to upset Hermione.

Honest. I will try to make it up to her. I've asked her to go to the Pearl Jam concert on the 23rd and she accepted. Though, that was before I took her to see the Movie of Doom. How about if I ask her to go to the Field Museum on Saturday? I'll bet she'd like that.

Do you think the mummies would upset her? Maybe I should take her to the Shed Aquarium instead. They've got a nice cheery dolphin show.

-----------------

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: October 12, 1998

Re: You idiot, part two

Take her to the Shed Aquarium. The Field Museum is full of dinosaur skeletons, mummies, and dead things. If there's so much as a dead fish floating in a tank, you stand in front of it so she doesn't see it.

You should definitely call her today and ask her to go to the library with you. You need to get started on your term papers anyway. Afterwards, take her out for coffee or something. She likes chocolate. She's nineteen, so she can't drink (legally, anyway).

-----------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 12, 1998

Reply: Re: You idiot, part two

I called Hermione and I'm joining you guys at dinner. Then we're going to the library and Starbucks after that. We're a go for the Art Museum on Saturday. There's no possibility of running into any dead things there, unless the ghosts of any dead artists are around.

Would you and Draco like to join us Saturday night for a trip into Greek Town and some baklava? If I start to say something wrong, you can kick me.

-------------------

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: October 12, 1998

Re: You're forgiven

Excellent strategy and I checked with Draco and we're willing to double date Saturday. Might actually be fun. And you asked for the double date so you do not get to punch and or hex Draco if he touches me (or vice versa) at any point during the evening.

Okay. I'm done being annoyed with you.

-----------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Hermione to Severus**

October 18, 1998

Dear Severus,

I have completed the literature search you requested on the differences between dodecahedral and trapezohedral garnet crystals in attaining balanced energy fields. There are a few interesting chapters about the subject in _The Crystal Healer's Handbook_ by DuMott and _Die Ausgeglichen Energie_ by Eldestein.

I did a translation charm on the latter and found the whole book to be very insightful. Perhaps Madame Pince could be convinced to stock a copy for Hogwarts? Copies of the relevant chapters will go out by post service tomorrow to you via Minerva.

In regards to the Crucio project, I've been doing some reading about the central nervous system and how it operates. Do you remember when I told you about people with epilepsy who were helped by having something similar to a pacemaker that sent a low level electrical charge into the vagus nerve? It got me thinking about something else I'd read about incompatible messages going through the same nerve cells.

The same neural pathways are used to transmit pain, heat, and cold messages to the brain. When cold or heat reaches a certain temperature threshold, the message sent through the neural pathways registers in the brain as pain.

There are two types of receptors that transmit cold:

TRPM8 responds to moderate cold (below 82 degrees in water) or the coolness in menthols.

TRPA1 responds to more severe cold (below 64 degrees in water)

The significant neurotransmitter in changing the message of the perception of cold to the perception of pain is glutamate. The effect of glutamate on TRPA1 is considered to be positive, or good pain, because it triggers a physiological response of removing the body part from the stimulus, like removing one's finger from a hot stove.

Is it possible that Crucio triggers an excess of glutamate in the body triggering the pain message?

We know that the leaves or essential oils of _veneno mentha viridis_ have magical properties of creating a perception of cold when taken internally or applied externally. The mechanism for doing this probably involves activating the TRPM8 receptors.

What would happen if, in the presence of Crucio messages of pain in the central nervous system (transmitted through TRPA1 via glutamate), the body was immersed in moderately cold water of 70 degrees and given a potion using _veneno mentha viridis_ as a base (with both messages transmitted through TRPM8)?

Would the central nervous system be overwhelmed with the messages of cold versus the magical pain messages of Crucio, canceling each other out or giving the sensation of being cold which would be preferable to pain? I dismiss considering heat as an alternative because I cannot imagine anyone preferring to feel like they were on fire to feeling Crucio level pain. Or, am I wrong about that?

There are neurologists who have run experiments indicating that some messages are incompatible when run through the same neural pathways. Then one of the messages cancels out the other or replaces the other. If the cold message (caused by genuine physical input) is stronger than the pain message (caused by the Cruciatus curse), might this be a treatment for Crucio?

I have an assortment of journal articles and readings from some books that I have photocopied for you or printed out for you relating to this topic, which will also go into tomorrow's post.

America celebrates a Thanksgiving holiday on November 26th. I anticipate being back at the Burrow from the evening of the 25th until the 29th, if I can be of assistance to you during that time. Until then, I am rather swamped with term papers I need to complete. Of course if there is an emergency, I am always available.

There's no real news on Draco, other than that he and Anita are virtually living together in her room. If he doesn't start remembering to lock the bathroom door that opens into my room, he's going to be in for an embarrassing moment one of these nights. Though knowing Draco, I'm the one who'll get all flustered.

Please take care of yourself,

Hermione

---------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Severus to Hermione**

October 19, 1998

Hermione,

Thank you for completing the research I requested. I look forward to receiving the photocopies of the chapters you mentioned. The question of which form of garnet crystal would be most efficacious to use in Wolfsbane has been a quandary. Based on what you have read, which form of the crystal do you believe would provide the best results in balancing energy fields?

The information you provided about incompatible messages traveling through the same neural pathways is most intriguing. There is logic in your argument that Crucio messages might be canceled out by cold messages traveling through the nervous system. However, logic and biology are not always compatible. I will reserve judgment until I have an opportunity to read the material you are sending.

As someone who has experienced the liberal use of Crucio, I can assure you I would prefer the Crucio pain to burn pain. Though, the question is rather like asking what form of torture one prefers. In a choice of heat or cold, I would prefer to feel cold.

Thank you for keeping me up to date on Draco's activities. Almost six months gone from Hogwarts and I still have to monitor his love life.

On looking at the calendar, I realize that today's date is one of significance to you. The events of a year ago still weigh heavily on all of us here. Please know you have my condolences on your loss.

I am well and hope that you are, too.

Severus

-------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Hermione to Harry**

October 19, 1998

Dear Harry,

When I came back from class today and saw you waiting in the lobby, it meant the world to me. How you managed to find the energy to do it in the middle of the night (with the time difference) after a full day on duty is beyond me. I'm so glad you did, even for an hour.

No one here knew them. They barely know me.

I'm just glad you did.

Love,

Hermione

---------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Ron to Hermione**

October 20, 1998

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry I couldn't come with Harry to see you yesterday. I was in the middle of the stakeout and ended up working fourteen hours. Anyway, I thought about you a lot yesterday and everything that's happened in the last year. Everything is so different now. I guess that's part of being adults. Even Harry and I have different schedules now that we're out of boot camp.

Can't you come home any sooner than November? I know school keeps you busy, but we miss you. I promise the next time you come home, Harry or I will go with you to the cemetery.

Ginny says you're dating a guy named Adam. So tell me about him.

Ron

----------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Hermione to Ron**

October 21, 1998

Hi Ron,

Please don't feel badly that you couldn't get here on Monday with Harry. The fact is the three of us are adults now and we'll never have the freedom we had at Hogwarts to see each other whenever we want.

Monday was a little rough, but I was busy with classes all day and got to spend some time with Harry, so it helped. I didn't think the anniversary thing would bother me, but it did. I remember a year ago and how you were there looking after Mary Ellen and me. I don't know that I could have held it together at all if it wasn't for you, Harry, and your family. Next time I get home, I will take you and Harry up on the offer to visit the cemetery with me.

I've got research projects and term papers to work on each weekend between now and the end of November. I want to get that stuff done before the end of term so that I can focus on preparing for exams. Besides, I need to stay ahead of the game in case there are any emergencies that would bring me back to England and put me behind in my schedule.

Oh, and you asked about Adam. You remember my telling you about Anita? He's her older brother, a Third Year Arithmancy student. He's very business oriented and plans to join their father's company after he graduates. There's nothing serious going on, we're just having fun. We've had two dates and gone for coffee a couple of times.

I've got to head off for class, now. Please give your parents a hug for me.

Love,

Hermione

-----------------

**Trans-Atlantic Mail, Minerva to Hermione**

October 24, 1998

Dear Hermione,

I received your packet on Wednesday. I must say the speed at which the Trans-Atlantic Mail Service is able to deliver the post is most astonishing. The reading material you sent has been passed onto the person for whom it was intended.

Thank you for the marvelous tea mug you sent me. So, Starbucks is a chain of coffee houses in the United States and you got the mug at one owned by a witch? I like how the mug is made from that burnished steel and has "Starbucks" written on it. Very modern! And the shape is quite clever, sort of a fat mug with that rubber on the bottom that makes it stay where you put it and not tip over and that lid which keeps it from spilling. A bottomless hot water mug and the box of Earl Grey tea is a perfect gift.

I have been the envy of the other staff who have seen me walking around with it. Professor Flitwick wants to disassemble it to see how it was made and I've threatened to turn him into hedgehog if he comes anywhere near it. The Headmaster covets it, as well. If you were willing to take orders for them, you could probably add on a tidy little handling fee and make a bit of profit.

I do hope we will have a chance to see you soon. I realize how busy you are with college. Perhaps over the Yule holiday, you will come up to Hogwarts and we can have a nice long chat. Ishould like very much to hear about your adventures in Chicago and how your education is progressing. The days certainly go by quickly and we are now working with our current batch of Seventh Years on applying for apprenticeships or moving into careers. There may be three or four of our Seventh Years who would be good candidates for courses at Avalon College. I should like to hear what you think about that.

With affection,

Minerva McGonagall

-----------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

FromHJGranger at awl . com

Date: October 25, 1998

Re: Small Electronics

Dear Adam,

I think your multidisciplinary project is brilliant. There could be a huge market for small electronics that can operate in a magical environment. Calculators, CD and tape players, would be just the beginning. If you want to test out your calculators, I can get at least one or two of the betas into the hands of a couple of teachers at Hogwarts. I'd bet the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore would be willing to try one. That would be the ultimate endorsement. If it can operate inside Hogwarts with a thousand years of magical energy and wards, it can operate anywhere.

Yes, the concert was really good. I've never been to one so large and the acoustics were remarkable. If you ever want an embarrassing concert experience, catch the Weird Sisters over in England. They're a wizarding band and they steal Muggle music and redo lyrics. They played at a Yule ball at Hogwarts once. Great party, lousy music.

Would you like to go for coffee later? I want to hear all about your project.

Hermione

--------------------

To: HJGranger at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 25, 1998

Reply: Re: Small Electronics

Hermione,

It is a great project. When you get to junior year, you have to do a project that includes three disciplines. I'm Arithmancy, Dave Shapiro is Potions, and Olivia Hawke is Charms. I'll bring one of the calculators to show you how we're doing this. I'm not sure it would hold up to Hogwarts magical environment and if it did, how long it would last. But we'd sure be glad to have them tested there and any feedback the teachers might have about our product.

Speaking of projects, your hair is looking good. Not that it didn't before, but if your plan was to get a smoother look, you're succeeding. I really like how it looks when you wear it up in that old-fashioned style. It shows off your neck. I keep getting this urge to take it down and run my fingers through it.

Coffee sounds great. How about we meet in the lobby at 7:30 pm? I'll have my studying done by then.

We need to make plans for Halloween.

Adam

------------------

To: HJGranger at awl . com, Dragonboy12 at awl . com, Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 26, 1998

Subject: Halloween

How would you guys like to go on a wizarding ghost tour? I can get tickets to a guided bus tour for Saturday night. Olivia's got a cousin who's a squib and her hobby is investigating places around Chicago that are supposed to be haunted (both wizarding and Muggle ghosts). She does tours around Halloween and Olivia says she had some last minute cancellations she's looking to fill. She knows all the good local ghost stories. Actually, I told Olivia we'd take the tickets so I'm buying them whether we go or not. We could go somewhere to eat before the tour and make a full evening of it. What do you say?

Adam

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To: HJGranger at awl . com, Dragonboy12 at awl . com, Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: October 26, 1998

Subject: Halloween plans

Okay, we are all set for Saturday night. We go to That Steak Joynt at 6 pm for dinner and hear all about their ghosts. Olivia said she was there one night and got a photo that looks like a man sitting at a table. Weird for a non-wizarding ghost. Then we head off to meet the bus for the tour that starts at 7:30 pm and runs until 11:30 pm. We can decide if we want to do anything after that.

Adam

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To: DigitalMage at awl . com

From: Architect3 at awl . com

Date: October 26, 1998

Subject: Are you sure?

Hi there, Stud Muffin.

Are you absolutely sure Hermione isn't in Adam's future? He brought her over again the other day and they had dinner with me while you were out of town. She is the most intelligent, nicest, decentest (is that a word?) young woman he's ever dated. From what I understand, she's more powerful as a witch than anyone in our family. I really like this one. Usually he likes shallow drop-dead gorgeous chippies. Hermione's got depth.

I have a feeling she'd make a great daughter-in-law.

Affectionately, passionately, insanely missing you. Come home right now and get into that bed.

Margaret

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To: Architect3 at awl . com

From: DigitalMage at awl . com

Date: October 26, 1998

Subject: Sorry, love

I miss you, too. I'll be home on Wednesday and then I'm all yours. Have your wicked way with me, witch.

Things are going well here in Brussels. I've got the international wizarding patent problems worked out on our new chip. One more day should wrap things up.

I wish I could tell you that Hermione was more than a passing phase with Adam, but I can't. I ran the Arithmantic probabilities on both of them and it still comes up that he isn't going to grow up enough for a committed relationship until he hits thirty to thirty-two. That leaves Hermione out. She's grown up now and her probabilities show her being ready for a solid relationship in her early twenties. Odds are, she's not going to wait around for him. You like her so much because you were the same way. I'm afraid Adam takes after me for being a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to maturity.

Given her friendship with Anita and all the raw talent that girl has, I hope the thing with Adam doesn't drive her away from our family.

I'm going to grab a shower and hit the sack. I need to save my energy for important business at home.

Love you,

Stud Muffin

------------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Severus to Hermione**

October 26, 1998

Hermione,

I have read the material you sent regarding incompatible messages in neural pathways. You may be onto something here. What I read reminded me of an old treatment for ashwinder burns from the time before we had effective analgesic potions for severe burns that did not have significant side effects. The burns were treated with icy water and menthols, though _veneno wintergreen_ was preferred over _veneno spearmint_. A strong version of the potion was mixed into the water and a weaker version ingested.

Before you have the opportunity to object, I have already conducted an animal test of the potion on a laboratory rat. I exposed it to an ashwinder, allowing a burn. I administered the treatment, both external and internal. It appeared to be highly effective in eliminating pain (conclusion drawn based on the rat's behavior and readings taken by wand). I healed the animal after the treatment. Of course, we do not know if pain from an ashwinder burn is truly comparable to pain by Crucio. When you return over the American Thanksgiving holiday, I would like to meet with you at headquarters to discuss this project further.

Have you read the latest issue of the _European Journal of Medicinal Potions_? There is an interesting article on the affects of _cannibis alta_ derivatives on psychogenic pain. This may tie in with our research.

Severus

-------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To: Charmed23 at awl . com, Compwiz27 at awl . com, HJGranger at awl . com

From: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Ghosts

I am absolutely fascinated by what we learned last night about the differences between Muggle and wizarding ghosts. Edith Hawke is one of the most interesting people I think I've ever met, for all she's a squib. Do you think we could get her to take us to a Muggle haunted house some time?

-----------------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com, Compwiz27 at awl . com, Dragonboy12 at awl . com

From: HJGranger at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Reply: Re: Ghosts

When we were at Hogwarts, I asked Nearly Headless Nick about the differences between wizarding and Muggle ghosts. Remind me to tell all of you about his 500th Death Day celebration, sometime.

He said that the reason wizarding ghosts are so much more visible and active than Muggle ghosts is because they have more ability to use energy, just like when we are alive. Muggle ghosts don't learn how to do this when they are living, so they can't do nearly as well with it when they are dead.

Draco, did you ever ask the Bloody Baron about it?

----------------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com, Compwiz27 at awl . com, HJGranger at awl . com

From: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Reply: Re: Re: Ghosts

I never talked to the Bloody Baron about much of anything. He's not the sociable type, unlike the Fat Friar or Nearly Headless Nick. Professor Snape was about the only one who could have a real conversation with him. The Professor dines with us now and then, being good friends with my parents. Next time I see him I'll ask him if he's ever discussed anything like that with the Baron.

---------------------

To: Dragonboy12 at awl . com, Compwiz27 at awl . com, HJGranger at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Resurrection Cemetery

I am so jealous. You two attended a thousand year old school full of wizarding ghosts you can have conversations with. St. Brigit's didn't have a single ghost to her name. We do have a ghost in my neighborhood in Oak Park.

You know that Frank Lloyd Wright's architectural studio and home is a block away from our house? In 1914, his Muggle mistress and their two children were murdered up at a house he built in Wisconsin. We think his mistress haunts the neighborhood around the house. I've never talked to her or anything, but I've seen her a few times.

---------------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Resurrection Cemetery

Maybe we could go look around your neighborhood and see if we can find her. And I'd like to go back to Archer Avenue and look for Resurrection Mary. Imagine a hitchhiking wizarding ghost. You know we could get into Resurrection Cemetery at night when it's closed to Muggles and hunt for her there.

-----------------------

To: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Resurrection Cemetery

That sounds quite romantic, you know. We could go tonight and slip into the cemetery and look for her, if it isn't too cold.

------------------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Reply: Re: Resurrection Cemetery

If it's cold, I'll keep you warm.

You know, some people think a cemetery is the perfect place to affirm being alive. I can think of some very special ways to do that.

Shall I bring a blanket?

-------------------------

To: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

From: Charmed23 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Keeping warm in Resurrection Cemetery

Excellent idea, Dragonboy. Now that we're off daylight savings time, it'll be dark an hour early. Shall we go around 7 pm? We could Apparate there.

The whole idea sounds a little kinky. Rather exciting.

----------------------------

To: Charmed23 at awl . com

From: Dragonboy12 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Reply: Re: Keeping warm in Resurrection Cemetery

It's a deal. I'll meet you at the transportation room at 7 pm.

----------------------------

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

From: HJGranger at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Last night

Adam,

I'm sorry I disappointed you last night. It isn't that I'm not interested or that I don't find you attractive, I'm just not ready for the kind of intimacy you want. I hope you can understand.

Hermione

----------------------------

To: HJGranger at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: November 1, 1998

Re: Last night

Hermione,

I won't deny I was disappointed; you really have no idea how attractive you are. Wanting to touch you, be with you is just natural. There comes a point when a few kisses and touches isn't enough. You can trust me to make it good for you.

Think about us being together….

Adam

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Draco to Severus**

November 5, 1998

Severus,

I know it's a risk to both of us that I'm telling you this. Perhaps you can pass it onto Professor McGonagall. I know Granger corresponds with her. Perhaps the Professor could get word to the Weasleys or one of Hermione's friends.

I don't think Hermione is doing as well as she pretends in front of people.

She seems to have periods of time where she barely sleeps or eats. The other day, she almost fell asleep in physics class and I've never seen her do that before. She seems to do better after she returns from a visit to the Weasleys, at least for a while.

I'm less certain of this, but she's apparated or portkeyed somewhere at 3 or 4 in the morning a couple of times and returned a few hours later. She doesn't know anybody here that I think she'd visit that way. It isn't like she's sneaking off to shack up with someone. She's gone out a few times with Anita's brother Adam, but I don't think they've reached that kind of stage in their relationship.

I don't think her grades are suffering, but if she keeps this up it's only a matter of time. Maybe coming here so soon after losing her parents and being away from her friends is more than she can really handle right now.

How is Father doing? Mother tells me he's recovering from his accident, but she doesn't always tell me the whole truth.

Draco

----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry, Severus to Draco**

November 6, 1998

Draco,

Your father is improving. The leg has healed, but he has a limp that will take time and exercise to address. As for his other injuries, the healer states he is making steady progress and anticipates a full recovery in time. I would estimate it will be Yule before your father is feeling quite like himself again. His spirits are good and I am disappointed to report he won when we played poker last Friday evening.

As for Miss Granger, I have spoken to Professor McGonagall and suggested that sometimes grief does not process in the same way for all individuals nor does it pass on predetermined time lines. Professor McGonagall may be an utterly unsubtle Gryffindor, but she can as they say, take a hint. I believe the matter will be communicated to those who are in a position to assist Miss Granger. Your communication in this matter is appreciated.

I hope your classes are going well. Do not forget your education in the midst of your research on American culture.

Severus

------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To: HJGranger at awl . com

From: Compwiz27 at awl . com

Date: November 8, 1998

Re: Last night

You need to decide what you want. We've spent a lot of time together, time I've enjoyed. We have a lot in common.

But there are things I need from a girl friend. Things you don't seem to want from me. Make up your mind, Hermione.

Adam

----------------------------

To: Compwiz27 at awl . com

From: HJGranger at awl . com

Date: November 8, 1998

Re: Last night

Perhaps I am not emotionally in a place where I can be the kind of girl friend you want. I too have enjoyed our time together, but I am simply not ready for a physical relationship.

I hope we can be friends.

Hermione

----------------------------

Hermione clicked on the 'send' button. The message was on its way to Adam. She leaned back wearily in the desk chair. Last night had been difficult when Adam decided to give her an ultimatum. She realized then that it was probably over with him. He wouldn't give her any more time. As much as she enjoyed his company, the places they went, and the things they did together, she simply did not love him. For some reason, having sex with a man was tied up in her head with loving him. She couldn't be with him that way for anything less than that.

In some ways, it hurt that she couldn't love him. The week after they'd gone to that horrible movie, he'd been so sweet and attentive. He really tried to make it up to her. Hermione tried to convince herself in the two weeks that followed that she could fall in love with him. After all, he was intelligent, had a good personality, and was reasonably good looking.

It was hardly his fault that he had little more magical capability than Neville. Somehow, he just didn't captivate her. When he touched her, it was pleasant but there were no fireworks. No spark of passion on her part. Was it because he wasn't right for her? Or was there something wrong with her?

Perhaps tonight, she would break down and take Dreamless Sleep. She'd avoided it all the other times, but the nightmares were getting bad again. After the stress of the ultimatum, she'd had the same nightmare over and over all night. She finally got up at 4 am and studied.

Hermione knew she could not keep on functioning on four or five hours of sleep a night. It was embarrassing when Draco had to nudge her in physics class last week after she dozed off. If this didn't improve soon, she'd have to talk to somebody about it. She'd read in the handbook that the college could make referrals to a counseling service. Maybe that is what she needed to do, whether she wanted to or not.

Hermione pulled out her appointment book. If she could find some time this week to get to the cemetery, it would help. She set the appointment book back down, not really needing it. She could pick any morning that she woke up at 3 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Hermione picked up her calculus textbook and went back to work. It was a little after 5 am when the phone rang.

'Odd,' thought Hermione. 'Who would be calling me at this hour?"

"Hello?" she said, picking up the receiver and putting it to her ear.

"Hermione?" said a familiar, but panicked voice. "It's Harry."

-----------------

Phone call to be continued

-----------------

Author's notes

I could not resist giving the gang a ghost bus tour for Halloween. Chicago is famous for them and two of my ghost hunting buddies own companies that provide them.

The story about the ghost photo at That Steak Joynt is absolutely true. I was on the paranormal investigation team when the photo was taken in 1994. I was in the upper dining room at the time, though I'm not the one who took the photo and I do not own a copy. I can verify that no visible person was sitting in the chair at the time. Unfortunately, That Steak Joynt has changed hands since those days and since I have moved away from the area, I'm not sure what business is in there now.

If you remove the spaces between characters in the link, here is information about the haunting at That Steak Joynt:

w w w . p r a i r i e g h o s t s . c o m / s t e a k j o y n t . h t m l

Resurrection Mary is the most famous ghost story in the Chicago area. We haven't heard the last of her.

_Veneno mentha viridis:_ Enchanted spearmint

_Die Ausgeglichen Energie: _Balanced Energy

Yes, Kenneth Branagh is the lead in _Dead Again_ and played Gilderoy Lockhart in _Chamber of Secrets. _Couldn't resist that one either.

What's all this science stuff about incompatible messages in the neural pathways? Next time you get a minor burn on a finger, stick it in icy cold water. The pain of the burn disappears and your finger feels cold instead. As soon as you take your finger out of the cold water, you can feel the pain from the burn. Incompatible messages! Can this turn into a treatment for the pain of Crucio? We'll have to wait and see. Keep in mind, the ashwinder burn treatment includes magical ingredients, which is why it can work on a severe burn. Don't ever try to treat a severe burn on your own, seek professional medical help.

Thanks again to all of the readers who have taken the time to review or contact me with comments. They are: MollysSister, Rinny08, Run Wild (you absolute must go and read _A Winter's Fairy Tale_, if you haven't already), HumbugGirl, WickedlyWanton, Dareak, Bakaonigirii, Siren34, Excessivelyperky (Her work, _The Birthday Present_, is extraordinary), Duj, PhoenixFlight, Tranquility, Green-eyed-angel, Me613, Lady-Rhian, Droxy, Badbugz, Greyfalcon, Snape's Witch, Princessfiona, Latinachikita, Severus-Fan, Muggle-To-The-Max, Mugglemomof3, Evil-Mastermind 666, Aldara, and Jocemum (Along with her own story, _Tea and Sympathy_, Jocemum did a story with her daughter Jocelyn, _Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills._)


	36. Chapter 36

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia, Brit Picker and someone to admire on many levels. Thank you to Amrun, who is trying to do too many things at one time.

--------------------------

Hermione & Severus

November 8, 1998

"Hermione?" said a familiar, but panicked voice. "It's Harry."

"Of course it's me," answered Hermione, alarmed. Harry sounded worried and he'd never called by phone before. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Thank god you're in," said Harry, sounding relieved. "We need you back here right away. Remus has been hurt."

"What happened?"

"He was lured into an ambush by a team of Death Eaters. He barely got away and they used a magical dart on him with some kind of poison."

"Where is he?"

"He's back at Headquarters. When he went missing, we all went hunting. George and Fred tracked him down. They found him in Knockturn Alley and brought him there. Madame Pomfrey's had a look at him and Snape's there too."

"Snape and Dumbledore have been talking and Remus needs a special potion, but a woman has to brew half for it to work. I apparated out into Muggle London and I'm calling you from a pay phone in a pub."

"I'm on my way." Hermione looked at the clock. "It's a little after 5 am here. I have to get dressed. The portkey takes me to the Burrow, so I'll have to apparate from there. I'll be at Headquarters in half an hour."

"Thanks, Mione," said Harry, "I'll let them know you're on your way."

Hermione did some fancy wand-waving and was freshened up and dressed in minutes. Her weekender bag was pre-packed and ready to go. A very annoyed Crookshanks was scooped up, put in his cat carrier and set beside the bag just in case she couldn't get back quickly.

Hermione's backpack was last, after an e-mail to Anita, Draco, and the Residential Assistant explaining an emergency at home. Hermione was out of the door with everything in tow, down to the transportation room, and portkeying her way to the Burrow. When she arrived, it appeared no one was there. She didn't wait to look around, but immediately apparated to the back yard of headquarters.

Harry was waiting for her at the apparation point by the bushes. Hermione clung to him for a moment as the nausea from too much magical travel passed.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Going downhill slowly," said Harry, "At least that's what Madame Pomfrey said. Whatever they poisoned him with has something to do with his being a werewolf."

The two of them hurried into the house. Inside the kitchen, they found Arthur making tea. He told them Tonks and Molly were upstairs with Remus and that Dumbledore and Snape were down in the cellar. Madame Pomfrey had gone back to Hogwarts to get some potions she needed. Hermione handed him Crookshanks' carrier and dashed downstairs.

Hermione was halfway down the stairs and heard them talking before she saw them.

"Of the Fourth Years, Amanda Howe-Smythe is the most capable and should be able to make the potion with Minerva's supervision. If she is not qualified, then Melisande Edwards would be a reasonable choice," said Severus.

"Are you certain about the Fifth Years?" asked Dumbledore.

Hermione saw Severus taking ingredients out of the cabinet and putting them on the lab table. Dumbledore looked up and spotted Hermione. He looked surprised.

"Severus, it looks as if we have company," said the Headmaster.

"Hello, Professors," greeted Hermione when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Harry called and said you needed a woman to brew a part of the potion for Remus. What happened?"

Severus was pleased and not pleased to hear her voice. Hermione could be the solution they needed or a complication they did not need at all. He exchanged a look with Dumbledore who decided to answer Hermione's question.

"Remus has been shot with a poisoned dart. He was in Knockturn Alley to meet an informant who apparently set him up for an ambush," answered Dumbledore. "As Professor Snape will explain, the poison is made especially for werewolves."

Severus paused in his work. "The dart was dipped with a potion designed to infuse silver into the red blood cells. As you should already know, if any of the DADA instructors did any part of their jobs during your years at Hogwarts," he said sarcastically, "Werewolves are notoriously hard to poison. A silver transfiguration and infusion potion is one of the few ways to accomplish it. The antidote chelates the silver out of the system."

"Harry said you needed a woman to make half the potion, so I came right away. Just give me the directions and I'll do it," said Hermione.

Severus cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. Dumbledore coughed.

Hermione looked at them both suspiciously.

"All right, what's going on?"

Severus looked sharply at Dumbledore who squared his shoulders and stepped towards Hermione.

"It is not as simple as having a woman brew half of the potion, Hermione. Right now, Professor McGonagall is preparing to identify and supervise a qualified Fourth Year in the brewing back at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"Why in the world would you have a Fourth Year do this, especially if I'm standing right here and ready to do it?" demanded Hermione.

"Because half of the potion has to be _maiden brewed_," said Severus, rolling his eyes.

Hermione looked back and forth between the two men.

"What exactly do you mean by _maiden brewed_?"

Severus looked meaningfully at Dumbledore who understood that the explanation was better heard from a one hundred-fifty year old man than one who was thirty-nine.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"The term _maiden_ is in the ancient alchemical sense, as in a woman untouched by, erm, sexually penetrative activities of any sort by either sex, and having an intact maidenhead." He continued with studied nonchalance. "That is why Professor McGonagall is going to supervise a Fourth Year. As far as I am aware, all of the Fourth Year females have been able to touch a unicorn in Professor Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class."

Hermione's reaction was to blush, stammer, and mutter something under her breath the two men couldn't quite make out except for the part about _damn male chauvinist pig ancient alchemists_. She stopped, put her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes and looked at the two of them.

"I'm qualified. Give me the directions."

She then held out her hand.

Dumbledore looked at Hermione closely, the usual twinkle noticeably absent from his eyes.

"Are you absolutely certain, Hermione?"

"Fetch a unicorn and I'll hug it," Hermione snapped, "Or are you willing to take my word for it?"

Up until now, Severus stood back, letting Dumbledore take the lead. He stepped forward, swallowed, and asked one more time, just to make certain.

"He means a vir…"

Hermione glared at Severus and pointed one very angry finger at him.

"One snide remark or sarcastic look out of you, Severus Snape, and you'll be brewing your half with a case of boils on your arse."

Severus observed that this was one thoroughly incensed virgin but wisely kept silent. He backed up and held his splayed hands out in front of him in the classic 'I surrender; get me out of this' position.

"Actually, Hermione, I will be brewing the male half of the potion," said Dumbledore.

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest and continued to glare.

"You're not looking for a Fourth Year male who hugged a unicorn this year? So the male isn't required to be in the same pristine condition as the female?" asked Hermione with sarcasm dripping from every vowel and consonant.

'Surely she doesn't think that I would meet that qualification?' thought Severus, still staying silent for the sake of his own arse.

"Ahem, no," said Dumbledore, "The expectation for the male is different and quite unfairly so, I agree," he said quickly with his tone becoming artificially cheerful. "As an alchemist, I am fully qualified to prepare my half of the potion. Meanwhile, Professor Snape will be elsewhere with a very good alibi so that the Dark Lord cannot conclude that he helped Remus Lupin in any way, shape, or form."

"I shall be spending the day at Malfoy Manor, now that it is settled who will be preparing the potion." Severus began putting away the potion ingredients he had taken out earlier. "I suggest Hermione prepare her portion here where there is the least possibility of contamination. Everything needed is available." He picked up a parchment and handed it to Hermione. "These are the instructions."

"I will go back to Hogwarts and prepare the male half in the laboratory there," said Dumbledore. "When you are done with your half, I can be signaled using this." Dumbledore pulled out two pieces of amethyst from a pocket in his robes. He touched his wand to both. "They are charmed so that when you say _I am finished_ and touch it, the other one will glow. I will see it and know it is time to bring my potion here."

"The precautions which must be taken to preserve the purity of the maiden brewed potion are simple, Hermione," said Severus in a business-like tone, "Only you can touch the ingredients, the cauldron, stirrer, or the finished product for your portion. No one else can participate in preparation or brewing. When you have completed your work, the potion must be poured into a glass goblet. The Headmaster will have a matching goblet at his workstation."

"A third larger goblet will be placed in Remus' room. The men will leave the townhouse and give you a clear path to Remus' room. You will walk up there with the goblet and await the Headmaster. When he arrives, both of you must pour your potions into the empty goblet simultaneously, not allowing your hands or goblets to touch. Only the potions may intermingle. Hermione should be the one to carry the third goblet to Remus and aid him in drinking it." Severus looked at the Headmaster and Hermione. "Do you have any questions?"

"How long will it take to prepare this and how much time does Remus have?" asked Hermione.

"The potion should take about two hours to prepare and fifteen minutes to cool to a drinkable temperature," answered Severus.

"Madame Pomfrey indicated that Remus has about three and one half hours before the effects of the poison reach a critical level," added Dumbledore.

Hermione read the instructions for the potion, nodding as she did.

"Very well, gentlemen," said Hermione, looking considerably calmer than she did five minutes before. "I'm ready to start."

Severus picked up his cloak, which had been tossed over a lab stool.

"I shall depart for Malfoy Manor immediately. It will be best if I do not return to Hogwarts until late evening." Severus started for the stairs and turned to look at Hermione. "You will do well with this and for what it is worth, nothing will be said to anyone outside of this room to apprise them of your status. You have every right to privacy. It is generous of you to have revealed what you did in order to help your friend."

"Of course," added Dumbledore. "I shall depart as well."

"Thank you, both," said Hermione, "And I'm sorry about threatening you with boils earlier," she added apologetically. "Well, maybe not entirely. I was somewhere in between angry and embarrassed about having to discuss such a private thing."

"I would have deserved a case of boils if I had mocked you for your purity," responded Severus, "and purity is nothing to be embarrassed about."

Severus disappeared up the stairs. Dumbledore followed after him.

Hermione followed them both with her eyes until they were both upstairs. She shrugged her shoulders, muttered "Men," and went to work.

-------------------

Severus arrived at Malfoy Manor in time for luncheon. He was grateful for the standing invitation that allowed him to have an unimpeachable alibi with no advanced preparation. As usual, Pudding greeted Severus, escorted him to the casual parlor, and announced him to the master and mistress of the house.

Lucius stood when Severus walked into the room. He took a few steps forward, this time truly using the snake headed cane he had sported for years as an affectation. Severus observed that his color was better, but Lucius was still alarmingly thin. He tended not to eat when he was in pain, a condition to which Severus could relate.

Narcissa was lounging on a chaise, perfectly coiffed and gowned, looking every bit the Pureblood lady of leisure she was. A book rested on her lap, apparently getting very little attention. Only someone who knew her well would notice the lines around her eyes that tended to appear when she was stressed.

"It is an unexpected pleasure to have you join us, Severus," said Narcissa.

"When an opportunity presents itself to escape the confines of Hogwarts and the supervision of the little cretins, I must seize it. Naturally, the thought of coming here and finding congenial company and good conversation was irresistible," answered Severus, silky smooth.

Lucius laughed, "Very well, Severus. We will not ask what is really going on."

The two men shook hands, followed by Severus bending over Narcissa's hand to pay the traditional respects to the mistress of the house. At that point, Pudding announced the availability of luncheon. Severus offered Narcissa his arm and Lucius followed behind them to the family dining room.

After seating Narcissa at her usual place at Lucius right hand, Severus walked around the table and took his accustomed place to Lucius' left. An excellent asparagus soup formed the first course.

"You are looking much better, Lucius," observed Severus, "Your color is coming back."

"I feel better," he answered, "I do not require the pain relieving potion you prepared for me except at night. I sleep much more comfortably for it." Lucius looked at Severus with complete sincerity. "I do not know if I have properly thanked you for all you did to get me through this, my friend."

"You would do the same for me," Severus waved off the thanks, "Though should it be needed, I hope you will not brew potions for me. You were abysmal at Potions, as I recall. And the whole point of taking a healing potion is to achieve _healing_."

Lucius gave him an amused smile. "You have my word on that."

Pudding cleared the empty soup bowls and brought out the next course of chicken baked with rosemary and lemon with mixed fresh vegetables and rice.

"So what do you hear from our son?" asked Narcissa.

And the conversation continued throughout the meal.

---------------------

At the end of luncheon, Lucius' weariness was apparent.

"If the two of you will excuse me, I believe I am in need of rest." Lucius shook his head. "I never thought the necessity of an afternoon nap would come upon me until I was at least one hundred twenty-five years old."

Narcissa stood and reached up affectionately to brush her husband's white blonde hair back from his forehead.

"That will change, my love. Give it a few more weeks and your body a chance to build up stamina. Come summer, I have no doubt you and Severus will be chasing about the woods shooting hexes at each other."

Lucius smiled and kissed his wife on the cheek.

"In that case, I will take my leave for an hour or two." He turned to Severus. "Please avail yourself of the library. I presume we will talk later?"

"Indeed, Lucius," answered Severus, "We have much to discuss."

Lucius departed for his afternoon nap, leaving Narcissa and Severus to take after luncheon tea in the parlor.

"He is much improved, Severus," assured Narcissa. "The pain potions were very necessary, but they diminished his appetite. Now that he does not require them all the time, he is eating again. His stamina is not much to speak of, but the healer says he can start taking walks again as long as the weather holds out. Perhaps you can persuade him out of the house this afternoon while the two of you talk."

"An excellent suggestion," replied Severus, "Of course, he has been through hell with this, but he seems more withdrawn than usual. Some fresh air will help."

"Fresh air at many levels, Severus," said Narcissa meaningfully. "This is an excellent time to discuss the most serious and important of topics with him." Narcissa looked out the window and mused, "We are all in need of fresh air in our lives."

She rose. "I will go check on him. He does not like me to fuss, but I want to make sure he is sleeping and not just lying there in pain. The man is almost as stubborn as you are."

"I learned it from him, Narcissa," said Snape as he stood, paying courtesy to Narcissa as she withdrew from the parlor.

'This would be the time,' thought Severus, 'this is the time to discuss loyalties and my true mission as a Death Eater. Lucius is ready to make a commitment.'

Severus stood and walked to the tall window, facing out to the gardens at the rear of the house. The trees were bare now and only the thorny skeletons of the roses remained. There was a wind coming from the west, blowing leaves across the garden paths.

He wondered how things were going for Remus. It was almost two hours since he had left headquarters. The two potions should be completed and cooling. Within the next twenty minutes or so, Albus and Hermione should be coming together to join the two potions, creating the one that could eliminate the silver from his bloodstream.

He had no doubt the two of them would do an excellent job with the preparation. Severus had been relieved when Hermione revealed to them that she was qualified to prepare a maiden brewed potion. He had complete confidence in her ability to create her half of the potion to the exacting standards needed.

At the point he believed Minerva would have to supervise a Fourth Year student in brewing the maiden half, he had mentally cut the odds of Remus' survival by fifty percent. A Fourth Year would not be sufficiently skilled and Minerva, even with her best efforts, was hardly a Potions Master. When Hermione walked into the cellar, Severus had mentally revised his plans to have Hermione supervise the Fourth Year girl who would do the actual work. Hermione had the technical knowledge and would ensure proper preparation.

'Hermione Granger is a virgin.'

That thought kept coming into his head and he kept quashing it down.

'No one has Claimed her as his.'

More territory where he had no business speculating.

'That young man Draco referred to is an idiot. They are all idiots if they cannot see her value.'

The thoughts kept breaking through the self-discipline that allowed him to live celibate for years at a time.

"I hope they continue to be idiots."

'Merlin, help me,' thought a panicked Severus, 'I said that aloud.'

He pulled himself away from the window and sat in a wing-backed chair in front of the fireplace. He took a book from the table next to him.

'What the hell is Narcissa reading these days?' Severus looked at the title; _Magic in the Twilight World_.

A young witch in a scarlet gown cut indecently low was bent over backwards and a muscular bare-chested vampire in a cape and very tight trousers was about to sink his fangs into her exposed neck.

First, if she were bent over backwards like that her breasts would have popped out of bodice of the gown.

Second, she was in danger of a spinal cord injury from bending backwards at such an angle.

Third, why in Merlin's name would a vampire run about bare-chested while wearing a cape?

Fourth, no man could wear trousers that tight without doing himself an injury. Unless the vampire were a castrati, in which case there would not be much purpose to the bodice ripping this book seemed to be about.

Shaking his head with disgust, Severus put the book back on the table.

Seeing the cover of the book did little to take his mind off the inappropriate subject that kept creeping into his thoughts.

'Hermione Granger is a virgin.'

'Stop it,' he growled at himself in his own mind. This kind of thinking could lead nowhere. Why was he obsessing on this? It was not as if he was on the list of men she might consider to relieve her of the condition.

'She touched me when she helped me get into the townhouse.'

That was true. She had touched him then and the following day after he described the effects of Crucio. Young women just did not do that sort of thing. Years of experience told him that young women did not willingly touch Severus Snape. As a matter of fact, women young and old tended to be afraid or intimidated by him.

'She is not repulsed by touching me.'

'So what?' he sternly lectured himself, 'Touching me twice in compassion is a long way from touching me in passion or allowing me to touch her. Do you really think she views you as anything other than a mentor? You are being disgusting, Snape. You are letting yourself think about a decent young woman in lascivious terms just because she was kind to you.'

'She teased with you. She threatened to hex you when she thought you might mock her for being a virgin. She is not afraid of you.'

'A little banter and one threat of a boil covered arse does not equate with finding a potential lover.' Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. This was getting ridiculous.

'Hermione Granger is a virgin.'

Severus stood and walked over to the side table. He poured himself a cup of tea, wishing it were later in the day so he could reasonably request a glass of Old Ogden's. He had to make himself stop this. Looking around, he spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet on the settee where Lucius had been sitting. He strode over, seized it, and began reading with a vengeance, determined to stop the disturbing thoughts.

------------------

Hermione nodded to Molly and touched the amethyst with the words "I am finished", sending the signal to the Headmaster that her portion of the potion was ready. Molly started up the stairs to tell the men to clear out of the house. It was important that no men impede her on the way to Remus' room and risk contamination of the potion. One accident would have fatal ramifications.

Hermione gazed at the clear glass goblet of gold colored fluid. The Headmaster's potion should be a golden brown. When the two combined, the color would change to topaz. She touched the side of the half filled glass. It was sufficiently cooled. Hermione heard the sounds of steps in the hall before the cellar door. The door opened and Molly called down,

"The way is clear, Hermione. They're all in the back yard waiting for Albus to arrive."

"Then I'm coming up, Molly. Is the third goblet up in Remus' room?"

"I have it right here. I'll go upstairs and put it on the table."

Hermione picked up the goblet with both hands. One wrapped around the bowl and the other supported the base. She made her way carefully up the stairs. Molly had left the cellar door open for her. She worked her way down the hallway and passed by the doors to the dining room and parlor. She walked slowly up the stairs and saw Molly standing at the top of the stairs. Molly backed up down the hallway to give Hermione a clear path to Remus' bedroom.

Hermione walked into the room. It was darkened with just enough light let in through the curtains for Hermione to see her way to the table. She stood beside it, leaving a clear path for the Headmaster.

She looked over at the bed. Remus was lying there, pale and obviously weak. Molly had propped him up with pillows. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Dora?"

"No, Remus. It's Hermione. I've got my half of the potion ready and the Headmaster should be here soon."

"Thank you, Hermione."

"You're welcome," answered Hermione affectionately.

Sound could be heard from downstairs, the footsteps of someone coming up the stairs.

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, tall and mystical looking in his burgundy robes with his long beard and hair. He held a goblet in one hand and waved the other, causing the candles in the room to light. He saw Hermione standing on the other side of the table with the larger third goblet between them.

"I believe we are ready, Hermione," said the Headmaster.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

The Headmaster stepped forward and stood opposite of Hermione. Both lifted their goblets and held them up to each other without touching. The Headmaster began to recite words in Latin. Using a translating charm Hermione had whispered before he arrived, she heard the words in English.

"_Man and maid, in balance of all things natural _

_As light is to dark, one does not exist without both_

_Silver to gold, as we request_

_From destruction to creation, from illness to health_

_We ask the blessing of God and Goddess for our friend_

_So mote it be."_

"_So mote it be_," intoned Hermione.

Simultaneously, Hermione and Dumbledore lowered the goblets and touched the rims to opposite sides of the lip of the third. Hermione nodded and they both tipped the goblets and slowly began to pour the contents into the third. In a few seconds, the liquids combined, swirled, and gave off a glow that started as silver and turned to gold. Both set their emptied goblets on the table.

Dumbledore stepped back to the doorway to give Hermione a path to Remus. She lifted the third goblet and carried it to Remus. She placed her hand behind his head and lifted it off of the pillow, setting the goblet to his lips. Remus looked up at her and she smiled down at him as he began to drink. When the goblet was empty, Hermione laid his head back down on the pillow. She set the goblet on the beside table and perched herself on the edge of the bed. She took Remus' hand.

"How do you feel?"

"Weak, but a lot more optimistic than I did a few minutes ago." Remus returned her smile. He looked up at Dumbledore who was standing behind Hermione. "Thank you Albus. You and Hermione have done me a great service."

"You are welcome, son," said Dumbledore, beneficently looking down at Remus. "I would be remiss if I did not mention that Severus determined the nature of the poison and found the antidote."

"I will thank him when I see him."

"He's gone to the Malfoys' to get himself an alibi for Voldemort," added Hermione.

"Good idea," said Remus.

Hermione stood. "I'll go downstairs and let everyone know that it's safe to come back in the house."

Dumbledore nodded. "You will also need to tell them that the action of the potion draws the silver out of the blood and eliminates through the natural process of, well, elimination. Everyone should make a point of not being in Remus' way if he is heading towards the bathroom. I daresay extensive use of deodorizing charms will be necessary."

Remus groaned. "I think things are getting started."

"My cue to go downstairs," said Hermione. She gave Remus hand a squeeze and headed downstairs. She met up with Tonks, Arthur, Molly, Minerva, and Harry who were in the backyard. Arthur was holding Crookshanks, who was enjoying a good chin scratching.

"How did it go, Hermione?" asked Tonks, "I offered to make the potion, but Professor Snape wouldn't let me. And I got a NEWT in Potions."

"It looks good and Remus is asking for you. As for not letting you make the potion, it's an age thing. A woman under twenty is required," said Hermione thinking fast. It was a partial truth since there weren't a lot of virgins over twenty. "The Headmaster suggested warning everyone that Remus is going to be in the bathroom a lot for a while the silver is drawn out of his system. It's going to get rather odiferous."

Tonks gave Hermione a hug and headed back into the house.

Minerva stepped beside Hermione and put her arm around her waist. The taller woman looked down through her spectacles at Hermione with great affection.

"I cannot tell you what a relief it was when Albus returned to Hogwarts and told me you were going to brew the woman's portion of the potion. I was most concerned when it looked like it was going to fall to me to supervise it."

Hermione shot Minerva a look of gratitude for her discretion.

"I'm glad I could do it," she said, "Sometimes things work out for the best."

"They do, indeed." Minerva looked back at Molly, Arthur, and Harry. "Perhaps it is safe to go back in the house, though we may want to keep our wands at the ready for deodorizing charms."

Arthur smiled and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I think there's someone here who isn't going to feel reassured until he sees Remus for himself, stink or not."

"Arthur Weasley," lectured Molly, "We're in polite company I'll have you know."

"Not that polite," said Harry, "Arthur's right." He stood to Hermione's other side and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Mione."

Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. "You're more than welcome." Harry released her and headed into the townhouse.

"Can you stay for a while?" asked Minerva.

Hermione shook her head. "I've got studying and a paper to finish today. I'll stay for a few minutes just to make sure the potion is working, but then I have to leave. I really hadn't planned on coming back until the end of the month.

"Understandable," said Arthur, "It's chilly out here and the only one of us with a fur coat is Crookshanks here. How about we go inside?"

The others went upstairs to see Remus while Hermione put tea things together. The Headmaster walked into the kitchen.

"How is he doing, Professor?" asked Hermione.

"I believe the potion is working exactly as anticipated. Remus digestive tract seems to be in perfect working order, which seemed good reason to allow the others to visit with him."

Hermione laughed. "What a way to get a good internal cleansing."

"I do believe it is time you called me Albus," said the Headmaster, eyes twinkling behind the half moon spectacles.

Hermione looked up at the tall wizard, smiling. 'I guess this means I'm accepted as an adult now,' she thought.

"Thank you, sir," she said, "I am honored."

"Pish and tosh, Hermoine," chuckled Albus, "I'm just older than you. As Minerva will tell you, you are probably more mature."

Arthur rejoined them in the kitchen.

"You weren't kidding about the odor, were you?"

The three laughed.

"I have to get going," said Hermione, "I've got hours of homework to do. Now that I know Remus is going to be all right, I should collect Crookshanks and head back."

Arthur produced the cat carrier.

"I'll give you a hand with that," said Arthur, looking at Dumbledore. The two men exchanged a look Hermione did not see as she picked up the weekender bag and backpack.

"Will we see you soon, Hermione?" asked Albus.

"I'll be back for a four-day weekend at the end of the month. Perhaps I'll get to see you then, sir."

"Albus, Hermione," he said gently.

"That will take some getting used to, Albus," said Hermione smiling, "Please say goodbye to everyone for me."

"I shall," answered Albus.

Arthur opened the back door for Hermione. They found Crookshanks rolling about in the last of the catnip patch. He scooped up the very relaxed cat and put him in the carrier.

"How are you doing?" asked Arthur.

"I'm fine, just very busy. Between term papers, studying, and the cross-disciplinary project, there's a lot to do."

"And finding time to spend with Adam?" asked Arthur.

"That will be a lot less of an issue now," said Hermione looking around to make sure she had everything.

"Really? Why would that be?" asked Arthur.

"We pretty much broke up last night," answered Hermione, "Please don't be concerned about it. It wasn't a serious relationship and I won't be nursing a broken heart. We just had some fun together."

"I'm sorry to hear that you broke up. It's good for you to have fun and do more than just study all the time. Life shouldn't be all serious at your age," Arthur observed.

"It will be fine Arthur, I promise." Hermione gave him a kiss on the check and picked up the cat carrier. "I'll be back in a few weeks." She disappeared.

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Author's Notes

For anyone who has concerns about the test on the laboratory rat in the last chapter, be assured that I am a card carrying member of the Humane Society of the United States and of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I have the mugs, notepads, umbrellas, t-shirts, calendars, key chains, and address labels to prove it! My dog, Dino the Wonder Dachshund, is a rescued doxy. He was six years old and given up by his original family when I adopted him through Coast-to-Coast Dachshund Rescue. I love animals and generally follow the catch and release approach when I find a bug in my house.

However, in JKR's books, animal parts are used in potions. Live animals are transfigured into inanimate objects. Remember Ron transfiguring Scabbers into a teacup in Transfiguration class? I think that in the wizarding world, experimentation on laboratory animals would be the accepted procedure. There will be more rat experiments to come. However, no actual rats were experimented on in the writing of this story.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Droxy, Green-eyed-angel, Squirrel Monkeys Rock, Lady Rhian, Me613, MollysSister, DareaK, Latinachikita, LettyBIRD, AuntBecky, ACSnape, Nemesis, Muggle-To-The-Max, BadBugz, Siren34, Indie Fairy, Strange Little Feeling, Sevvy Lover, Severus-Fan, Notwritten, Eliora, Duj, Run Wild, SlytherinTwinCC, Bakaonigirii, Mekareami, Excessivelyperky, Nativewoman29, Mugglemomof3, Not so Chicken Little, PhoenixFlight, Aldara, Belas, Tranquility, and Spamchik


	37. Chapter 37

In the wee hours of this morning, June 2, 2006, an old soul crossed over to the Other Side. Those of you who know me are aware that my elderly parents live with me. My father's health has been poor the last few years. His physical body finally gave out this morning about 1:00. My mother and I were with him right to the end. His departure from this physical realm was peaceful.

His spirit lives on and I look to the day when we are all reunited in our true home.

Rejoice with me for a life well-lived by a man who is well-loved.

This story is for you, Dad.

---------------------------

Severus

November 22, 1998

Severus sat at the dining room table, enjoying a fine cup of Earl Grey. Dobby had done an acceptable job with the meal. Of course, one could not go far wrong with roast beef, unless it was overdone and dry. And the company was reasonably good, given that Potter and Weasley were on Auror duty this evening. Besides, the group present could not have had this conversation with the two of them sitting at the table.

Remus was at the head of the table. He looked considerably healthier than he had two weeks before when he nearly died from silver poisoning. Just two days past the new moon, it was a healthy time of the month for him. Arthur sat to Remus' right, enjoying the last of his cheesecake. Albus, in midnight blue robes, was having an animated discussion with Bill Weasley about the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match earlier in the day. Ravenclaw's keeper had received a concussion from an out of control bludger, knocking him off his broom and giving him a broken arm.

Minerva was unable to attend tonight's meeting. She was dealing with the detentions of an assortment of Gryffindor miscreants who had obtained some new Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, flooding three unused classrooms on the fourth floor with a substance having the texture of marshmallow crème and just as difficult to remove. Severus quirked a smile at the thought of seven Gryffindors on their hands and knees with buckets of water and rags, cleaning up the glop.

Dobby came and cleared off the table, leaving a pot of tea, cups, and a plate of chocolate biscuits for nibbling. After he left, Albus started the meeting.

"I believe Severus has important information regarding the Dark Lord," Albus began, "and then there is an update on the situation with Lucius Malfoy."

Severus nodded and took a sip of his tea.

"This may seem minor, but there is more evidence that the Dark Lord is experiencing some form of health problem. On Wednesday, I received a summons along with about fifteen other Death Eaters. There was no particular reason for the meeting other than Riddle exhorting his followers along his version of the true path of righteousness. About an hour into the exhortation, he stopped and signaled Pettigrew to come over. The rat produced a drinking flask, which the Dark Lord appeared to empty. His only explanation for the drink was that leading the Death Eaters is thirsty work. I have never before observed the Dark Lord to stop one of his sermons to drink so much as a glass of water."

"Interesting," said Bill, "But, it isn't much to go on as far as strategy is concerned."

"Nor should it be, at this stage," added Remus. "We don't want the Dark Lord to have any idea we suspect he has a health problem."

"I shall continue to be alert for anything that might give us a clue as to the nature of the ailment," said Severus.

Arthur took a biscuit and nibbled on it. "Albus, did you say there was news about Lucius Malfoy?" he asked.

Albus nodded to Severus.

"After the Solvo Ira potion debacle at the Highgate Hippogriffs and the Chudley Cannons match, Malfoy was punished by the Dark Lord. He took several rounds of Crucio and a severe beating, resulting in injuries that nearly killed him. Even with a healer brought in to reside at the Manor, he is only now able to walk again without requiring a cane. It is likely to be at least the beginning of the New Year before Malfoy is recovered."

Bill Weasley whistled at the implications. "Is this the last straw for him with the Dark Lord, Severus?"

"Yes," said Severus, "Malfoy is ready to change sides."

"How can you possibly trust him?" demanded Arthur, turning to Bill. "I didn't think I had to remind you of what he did to your sister by slipping that diary of Tom Riddle's into her cauldron when she was just a First Year." Not giving his son time to answer, he looked at Severus. "How do you know he won't betray you and us at the first opportunity?"

"I went into his mind and looked," answered Severus, calmly, "Quite literally. I have been teaching Lucius Occlumency, preparing him to hide any of his dealings with us from the Dark Lord. In the process, I have been all over his memories. I can assure you, Lucius Malfoy is completely disillusioned with the Dark Lord."

"He has seen the evidence of the Dark Lord's true intentions," continued Severus, "Which are completely different from what he pledges to the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy has paid for his oath to the Dark Lord by seeing his family threatened with death if he did not obey, by being beaten nearly to death himself, and seeing his own reputation and that of his family slowly eroded as the Dark Lord forced him to engage in acts that have landed him in Azkaban. To describe Lucius Malfoy as disenchanted is to state the truth in a minimalist way."

"What does he want in return for this change of heart?" snorted Arthur, unconvinced.

"Sanctuary for Draco and Narcissa, if it is needed. He asks for nothing for himself. Lucius will pay the price of his disloyalty to the Dark Lord if it is required." Severus leaned back in his chair and toyed with the sugar spoon from the tea service. Pain seeped into his voice as he considered the price Lucius might be forced to pay for secretly changing sides.

"I think this is a risk we need to take, Arthur," said Remus. "I trust Severus' judgment. The reality is that the Dark Lord has changed tactics and we need more intelligence than Severus alone can provide. If Albus talks to Malfoy and determines that his willingness to change sides is genuine, then we will have twice the number of spies in the inner circle than we have right now."

Albus stroked his long beard thoughtfully. "I will see Lucius Malfoy. I will evaluate the truth of what he says by my own skills as a Legilimens. If Severus' opinion is confirmed, I will assure him of our willingness to offer sanctuary to his wife and son and provide him with portkeys for their use as tokens of our veracity."

Albus raised his hand to stop Arthur's protest. "The portkeys will bring them to the gates of Hogwarts and no further. They must walk the rest of the way. If the Death Eaters wished to do so, they could gather at the gates of Hogwart even as we speak just by apparating there. The portkeys are a symbol, a reassurance if you will. In reality, we would give sanctuary to the spouse or children of any Death Eater." Albus looked around the table. "What say you all?"

"Yes," said Severus.

"Yes," nodded Remus.

"Agreed," added Bill.

"I will trust your judgment on this after your meeting with Malfoy, Albus. I give conditional agreement," said Arthur.

Albus nodded. "Thank you for your trust in this, Arthur. If I see any reason to negate our decision, I will not hesitate to do so."

At this point in the discussion, it was decided to switch to a stronger beverage. Remus brought out the brandy and snifters, passing glasses around the table.

"It is good to be able to have a drink of something stronger than tea again," remarked Remus.

"You already had enough digestive tract distress from the potion," remarked Albus, "without adding additional stress to your system."

"Merlin knows we just about had to fumigate the house," added Arthur, laughter circling the table.

"I'm grateful to be alive and I apologize for the flatulence," snickered Remus, quite unapologetically. "If it wasn't for your work, Severus and Albus, I'd be aromatic by now in a totally different way."

"Please, Remus," groaned Bill. "Those are images we don't need."

"Besides, you are forgetting Hermione's contribution," added Arthur.

"Speaking of which, it is much to my good fortune she is still a virgin," remarked Remus, swirling his brandy in his snifter.

The statement was greeted with dead silence around the table.

Remus raised his eyes and looked at the others in confusion. "Well, she has to be or she couldn't have prepared a maiden brewed potion."

Severus and Albus exchanged a look. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Remus," lectured Albus, "We gave Hermione our word that this would not be a topic for public consumption."

"What public consumption?" asked Bill, "Everyone at this table knows the potion had to be maiden brewed. We all know what that means."

"I believe Hermione would be embarrassed to have the status of her virtue discussed over our after-dinner drinks," said Severus, his tone implying that the topic was closed.

That statement also received a silent reception. Not because of the discussion of Hermione's virginity, but that Severus referred to Hermione by her first name and defended her.

"Hermione broke up with that boy she was seeing at the college," Arthur remarked by way of changing the subject.

Severus was careful to look uninterested.

"I have a feeling he wanted more from her than she was willing to give," said Arthur.

"Not unusual in young men of that age," commented Bill, overlooking the point that he was not all that much older than the young man in question.

"Hermione has a lot of fine qualities," said Remus, "most of them of the kind young men don't appreciate. It wouldn't surprise me if she ended up with someone older."

Severus did not like the sound of that. Was Remus indicating an interest in Hermione?

"If I wasn't already taken," Remus smiled, "by a certain Auror, I'd be giving Hermione a second look. She's young, smart, and pretty in an old-fashioned way. It won't take long for some astute young man to recognize what a prize she is."

"As long as we are on the subject of Hermione Granger," said Severus, growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I received a communication from Draco Malfoy regarding her. As you know, they spend time together at the college and have developed a friendship of sorts. He says there are periods of time when she sleeps poorly and does not eat properly. Impossible as this may be to believe, he states she fell asleep during class on one occasion. He expressed his belief that Granger was not doing as well regarding her grief as she wants people to believe."

"I've noticed how tired she is when she arrives at the Burrow when she has time away from Avalon. Molly feeds her up and she seems to sleep well. Hermione says the food at the college is terrible," said Arthur. "We all know she tends to throw herself into her studies and neglect herself."

"Draco also made reference to Hermione apparating or portkeying away from the college at 3 or 4 in the morning and returning a few hours later. He did not know what she was doing, but was concerned about it," said Severus.

Remus straightened up as the thought came to him.

"Could she be going to the cemetery?" he asked. Remus looked around the table. "Has she asked any of you to go with her to the cemetery?" Heads shook 'no'.

"Back a few months ago, maybe August or September?" Remus wracked his brain for the particulars. "Hermione was staying at the Burrow and she was supposed to come here to work with you on something," Remus looked at Severus. "That's right. She volunteered to help you set up the lab. She told Molly she was coming here and Molly flooed to let me know she was on her way. She didn't show up for a few hours. I confronted her when she arrived and she admitted she'd gone to the cemetery. It was as if she didn't want anyone to know what she was doing and wanted to go alone."

"It is dangerous for her to visit the cemetery alone. Certainly, she must realize that," said Severus, puzzled. "I do not believe she is an active target at this time, but it would not be outside of the realm of possibilities for a Death Eater to try and acquire her by warding the graves or turning a gravestone into a portkey."

"That's exactly what I told her," said Remus, "I exacted a promise from her not to go by herself again."

"It isn't like Hermione to lie," remarked Arthur, looking pensive.

"Grief can do strange things to people," observed Albus, "Including causing them to behave in ways that are out of character."

"Especially if the person is ridden with guilt because they failed to stop a murder," murmured Severus to himself, coming to a realization.

"What do you mean, Severus?" asked Arthur, catching what Severus had said.

Severus considered what he could say which would not violate the confidence of the things Hermione had said to him.

"About a month after the Grangers' murders, I encountered Hermione on top of Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night," he said thoughtfully. "It was apparent she was having a crisis in her grief. She told me some of the things that had been going through her mind."

Arthur looked alarmed.

"No, Arthur," he clarified, "I do not believe she was suicidal or anything of that sort. If I had any doubts, I would have spoken to Albus and Minerva about obtaining treatment for her. The gist of what she said comes down to a great deal of guilt, the feeling that her parents were murdered because of her, and that if she had been there she might have been able to save them. I was able to make the point that her presence would have resulted in three deaths instead of two. I believe I was able to get through to her on some of the issues she seemed most concerned about."

"Why didn't you say something about this to Molly and me?" asked Arthur.

"I felt what she said was in confidence," explained Severus. "Truly, if I had believed she was at risk of doing something foolish, I would have said something."

"Of course you would have, Severus," interrupted Albus. "None of you are in a position to know, but on many occasions Severus has informed myself, Madame Pomfrey, and the appropriate Head of House when a student appeared to be troubled."

"So, as far as any of you know, Hermione hasn't been back to the cemetery since August or September to visit her parent's graves?" asked Remus. "And, she's disappearing from Chicago for short periods of time in the early morning?"

"There is a six hour time differential between Chicago and London. If she is leaving there at 4 in the morning, it would be 10 am here," said Severus. "A few hours would be more than enough time to visit the graves. I wonder if they appear to be tended?"

"What do we do about this?" asked Arthur, obviously concerned. "If she feels guilty and is trying to hide it from all of us and somehow this is leading her to sneak in visits to her parents' graves, she's putting herself in danger. But, if we've got this wrong, she's going be very upset with us if I confront her about it."

Severus was never entirely sure why he said what he did, but as he talked about it with his colleagues in the Order, it did make sense.

"Perhaps, Arthur, you are not the one who should confront her about this," said Severus slowly, thinking as he spoke. He lifted his head and looked at Arthur who was looking back at him speculatively. "I may be in the best position to discuss this with her."

Remus looked surprised for a fleeting moment and then schooled his expression back to neutrality.

"She has already confided to me on one occasion," Severus continued. "Although we did not discuss it, the circumstances of my own parents' deaths have some similarities with hers. My own guilt that I was not there to defend my mother affected me for many, many years."

"You were twelve years old, Severus," said Albus softly.

"I did not say the feelings were rational, simply that they existed," answered Severus, meeting his eyes.

"How would you do this?" asked Albus, leaning towards Severus.

Severus considered for a moment and replied.

"Would you be willing to adjust the wards around this townhouse to allow Hermione to be portkeyed into the cellar and locked in?"

"What!" demanded Arthur, appalled.

"I will go to the cemetery and check the graves," said Severus, reassuringly. "I believe I will find the graves have been tended and she has placed wreaths there. I will turn the wreaths into specialized portkeys, which can only be triggered by Hermione's touch."

He turned to Arthur. "I presume I can rely on you to provide me with a bit of her hair from a hairbrush or something else I can use to set the trigger?"

Arthur nodded, reluctantly.

"If Hermione is tending her parents' graves in secret," explained Severus, "She will touch the wreaths and be transported here. If she is magically locked into the cellar, she will have to wait until I arrive. We will discuss what she is doing and why. Perhaps I can make her understand the risk she is taking. I may be able to help her work through whatever is troubling her. If this is not what she is doing, the portkeys will not be triggered and we will need to look further."

Remus nodded in agreement. "It sounds like a solid strategy. I agree that you may very well be the best person to discuss this with her. It is good of you to offer."

Severus inclined his head. He was not going to discuss his reasons for making the offer when he was uncertain of exactly what they were.

Arthur looked at Severus intently.

"Hermione isn't planning to come back until the end of the month," said Arthur. "This will be kept confidential, but if any of you sees anything of concern, please tell me. Molly and I consider Hermione to be part of our family."

"Minerva could not be here tonight," said Albus, "But I would like to disclose this plan to her. I believe she will approve and she may have other suggestions as well."

Seeing a consensus, Albus looked at the time. "I believe we are done with the business of the day. Are there any other issues to discuss?" He looked around the table. "Then I believe it is time to call it a day."

The Order of the Phoenix adjourned for the evening.


	38. Chapter 38

I would like to thank all of you who sent messages of comfort during this last week. My father's funeral is over, the out-of-town family has gone home, and my mother and I are tackling the legal necessities and sorting things through in the house. Over the next week or so as things settle down, I do plan to respond to everyone. Thank you all for your prayers and support.

Thank you to Julia, who betaed and Brit-picked this chapter.

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Hermione

November 27, 1998

Hermione pulled the basket onto her lap and began pulling the leaves off the stems. She had already de-stemmed a basket of veneno mentha viridis, a magical spearmint. Now she was stripping the stems from veneno gaultheria procumbens, magical wintergreen. The ashwinder burn potion called for the magical form of wintergreen. Severus wanted to determine if adding the spearmint would enhance the potion further.

It was one thing to prepare enough leaves by hand to brew the potion for a rat. Treatment for an ashwinder burn required a tiny amount it would ingest from the internal potion and then bathing the rat in coldwater with a stronger version of the potion mixed in. Preparing it in sufficient volume for a human being would be another thing entirely. Hermione sincerely hoped Severus didn't plan for her to prepare the essential oils by hand. She didn't care to think how many leaves it would take to produce the thirty-two ounces of essential oil needed to make enough of the external potion for multiple human trials.

They had completed one animal trial yesterday with the potion she prepared using only veneno mentha viridis. Severus wanted to determine the exact water temperature necessary to give the rat relief from burn pain. Intellectually, Hermione knew that animal testing was necessary but she was struggling with it emotionally.

She had to steel herself when they exposed the rat to the ashwinder. The poor white rat squealed in pain when it took the burn. It was almost as bad having to hold the writhing animal while Severus squirted the potion down its little throat with an eyedropper. The potion did seem to help quickly, as did putting it in the shallow cauldron of chilled water with the external potion added.

Hermione reduced the temperature in the cauldron one degree at a time, taking it from 84 degrees down to 77 degrees. At that point the animal was pain free, just cold. When she removed it from the bowl and started to dry it off, the rat bit her finger through the latex glove.

Not that she blamed the rat. If someone had just done the same thing to her she probably would have started biting, too.

Severus allowed her to do the healing charm on the rat. That did make her feel better about the whole thing. When she muttered something about Obliviating the animal, he'd smirked at her.

That led to a lecture from Professor Snape about not getting attached to laboratory animals. He pointed out, quite accurately, that the animal had been a subject in Transfiguration classes and had already been turned into a wide assortment of inanimate objects. Although there were only a few potion ingredients made from rat parts, there were plenty of other animals raised for the sole purpose of turning them into ingredients. To say nothing of the fact that Hermione was hardly a vegetarian and one of the ingredients in an Italian beef sandwich had big brown eyes and mooed.

By that time, Hermione was covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. Severus had her absolutely dead to rights on that one. She had a double standard. She could eat meat and didn't really want to give it up, but it was a whole different thing to eat a cow one had met face-to-face.

She confessed to the inconsistency and had no arguments for resolving it. It still didn't relieve her of the feeling that she owed that rat a better life. She'd spent most of the time during busy work thinking about how she could sneak the rat out of the lab and make it a pet. Problem was, Crookshanks was unlikely to view the rat as anything other than dinner on four feet and there was a limit to how many laboratory animals she could adopt and provide a decent home for.

Severus was right. Never give a laboratory animal a name.

Hermione stood and stretched, her rear end going numb from sitting on the lab stool so long. She stretched forwards, extending out her arms, and then did the same thing stretching back. She bent at the waist and bounced forward a couple of times and then did a couple of deep knee bends.

"Preparing for a Quidditch match, Hermione?" asked Severus coming down the stairs.

"I sincerely hope not," she answered. "Whatever team I played for would be doomed. Just getting the circulation back in my legs after sitting so long." Hermione went back to pulling leaves from stems, standing this time.

"I have been giving thought to moving the testing from ashwinder burns to actual Crucio," said Severus. "There is no way to do this without casting the Unforgiveable. Albus and Remus agree it must be done here."

Hermione paused in her work, thoughtful.

"When Barty Crouch, Jr. polyjuiced himself into Professor Moody, he demonstrated Crucio on a spider during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I'd always heard that Unforgiveables couldn't be cast inside Hogwarts without setting off one of the wards. How did he do that?"

"The Headmaster permitted the wards to be lowered in the classroom on that day, a decision I fully supported. Although none of us realized at the time that Moody was not Moody, I was pleased that one of the DADA instructors was finally teaching students what they might one day face in a duel. Death Eaters do not waste their time on a Bat-bogey hex."

"That certainly makes sense," said Hermione. "_Hogwarts, A History_ doesn't specify it, but implies that the Headmaster of the school is able to get the castle to do things others can't. Is that a part of it?"

"It is not made entirely clear in the book, but it is an open secret that each Headmaster goes through something of a bonding ritual with the castle upon taking up the post. The castle has certain sentient qualities imbued in it by the Four Founders. The Headmaster is capable of communicating with the castle to have it raise and lower wards built into the stone and mortar of the building. He can request the building make physical changes, such as rearranging rooms, moving a door, or changing walls," explained Severus. "The Headmaster is usually quite accommodating to such requests from teachers."

"I can see where that would come in handy," said Hermione. "I always wondered if the teachers had a special agreement with the moving stairs so they would always arrange themselves to give the teachers the shortest journey to wherever they wanted to go. It would certainly explain how you managed to swoop down on us in the corridor to Astronomy Tower when we could have sworn you were just in the dungeons."

"Shhhhh," hushed Severus, "Leave the staff a few secrets."

Hermione smiled at Severus. Her former teacher and current mentor could actually be amusing when he chose to be. What a difference six months had made in their relationship, which Hermione would now describe as a friendship.

"There are also plenty of secret passageways and corridors in the castle known only to teachers, regardless of claims made by the originators of the Marauder's Map," continued Severus, "Since students outnumber teachers by a considerable proportion, we must claim every advantage we can."

"I guess this means I will not be writing the _Secrets of Hogwarts Handbook_ anytime soon." Hermione sighed dramatically. "It could have been my ticket to fortune and fame."

"Speaking of fortune," said Severus, pausing for a moment. He appeared to be considering his words carefully. "We have not discussed the work you did in brewing the antidote for Remus when he was poisoned. It appears to have worked exactly as it should. It was fortunate you were available to brew the maiden's portion. When I thought we would have to resort to a Hogwarts student supervised by Minerva, it diminished Remus' chance of survival. In fact, when you arrived my initial response was to have you provide the supervision. Your knowledge of potions making exceeds Minerva's by a considerable degree."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione, unsure of where this was leading.

"For Remus' sake, the best of all possibilities was that you could do the work yourself, which you did." Severus paused again. He met Hermione's eyes, rather uncomfortably. "I am attempting to determine how to say this without embarrassing either of us and putting my arse at risk of a good hexing."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. 'Professor Snape just said the word _arse_? And what exactly is he trying to say?' she wondered.

"With your current, erm, status, there is a way to make money from it."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up higher. 'He is suggesting I do what?'

Severus straightened up.

"That did not come out exactly the way I meant it," said Severus, stumbling over his words. "There is a way for a virgin to make a profit…. No, that is not what I mean to say either."

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Let me try this again," he groaned.

He took a deep breath and blurted it out as quickly as he could.

"An untouched woman who can prepare a maiden brewed potion can make a considerable amount of money if she intends to preserve her status for a while."

He exhaled and looked relieved to have gotten the words out.

Hermione looked surprised. 'Professor Snape was concerned about my reaction to him bringing up the subject of my virginity?' she thought. 'Did he think I would hex him or something?'

"There are a number of healing potions that are virtually impossible to obtain because one cannot find a qualified female potions maker," Severus explained, once again capable of making eye contact with Hermione. "St. Mungo's and other hospitals will pay a high price to get these kinds of potions, probably enough to cover your college tuition for several years with one summer's work. You could be employed directly by St. Mungo's or perhaps as a contractor. Madame Pomfrey could probably work out the connections you would need to make."

Hermione's hands went up to her face and she started to shake.

She could not see his reaction, but Severus went silent fearing he had just offended Hermione beyond redemption. He hoped she was not crying. He really hated dealing with women when they cried.

She wasn't. Hermione started to laugh so hard, tears were running down her face and she couldn't catch her breath.

'It figures,' she thought, 'It just figures. Part of me is frustrated because I'm not in a relationship where I'm getting any sex. Now I can make all kinds of money if I don't ever have sex.'

Her hands slid down to her mouth and she looked up at Severus who was eyeing her with a look of complete confusion on his face. 'Oh, heavens, now Severus doesn't know what to make of my reaction.' Hermione pulled a tissue from her pocket and mopped at her face.

"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, "I have this image in my head where I'm running around in a t-shirt that reads _Hermione Granger, Professional Virgin_. I'm sort of the anti-hooker. Pay me and I won't do it with you, but you'll feel ever so much better."

Hermione doubled over again, laughing. "I can't believe I'm making these kind of jokes with you."

She put her head down on the table with her elbows on either side and covered her head with her hands, still laughing and snorting. She quieted a bit and raised her head to catch her breath.

She peeked at Severus who was leaning back in the chair with his hand over his mouth, doing his best to hide the laugh that was making his shoulders shake.

Hermione gave him a big grin and started laughing again.

Severus' hand went down and he joined in, his baritone blending with her soprano in a harmony of nearly uncontrolled mirth.

It took a minute for both of them to stop laughing enough to get sufficient breath to speak. Hermione wasn't sure if it was because she was too exhausted to care from laughing so hard, but at this moment in time it did not bother her that Severus Snape knew she was a virgin, had made reference to it in conversation, had talked to her about a way she could make money for college by being one, and laughed with her when she made jokes about it.

'Whoever would have thought it was possible?' she thought, 'I embarrassed Professor Snape and got him laughing."

"I don't know about you, Severus, but I need a break," said Hermione, holding a hand to her aching stomach. "I'm going make some tea." Hermione got up and began to gather the tea things while they both recovered their respective composures.

She heard footsteps on the stairway and Hermione turned to see Remus walking down.

"Good evening," he said, looking curious. "I heard the two of you laughing and wanted to find out what was going on."

"Potions humor," answered Severus, covering nicely for their short diversion into mildly smutty talk.

"I see," Remus responded, "An inside joke?"

Hermione restrained herself from responding to the inside joke remark since the joke was about not letting anything _inside_. She didn't dare start laughing again, because _somebody_ would expect her to explain what was funny.

She brought out three mugs, poured the hot water, and set out the boxes of Earl Grey and English Breakfast teabags she'd brought. Remus took an English Breakfast teabag while Severus and Hermione took Earl Grey.

"How is the research coming?" asked Remus.

"We have determined the water temperature at which the rat achieves pain relief with the external treatment mixed into the water," replied Severus. "Considering that the body temperature of a rat is typically 100 degrees Fahrenheit and the water temperature was 77 degrees before complete pain relief was achieved, I believe we would need to take the temperature down to about 70 degrees for a human to achieve complete pain relief."

"We also found that the internal potion seems to have a vasodilation effect, causing the blood vessels to have a slight increase in diameter," added Hermione. "This would cause the rat's internal temperature and blood pressure to decrease."

"The next step will be to confirm this with a human test using an ashwinder burn. If it works on a human, we will know we have the formulation correct as it was used eight hundred years ago. We will then move onto developing a Cruciatus version." Severus made a face as he removed the teabag from the mug.

"Is there no one in the Order who understands the value of loose tea and a strainer?" he muttered.

Hermione was careful to conceal her alarm when Severus spoke of a human test. She was about to ask when Remus did it for her.

"Planning to experiment on yourself, Severus?"

"Unless Potter steps forward and volunteers, in which case I will gladly step aside."

Hermione resisted the urge to respond.

"Is it really necessary to give yourself an ashwinder burn to make this work?" asked Remus.

"Yes, for a number of reasons," replied Severus. First, I need to confirm that the internal and external potions do work on a human to relieve the burn pain."

"Second, although there is nothing lethal in any of the ingredients, I need to be certain it will not cause serious side effects."

"Third, we need to determine the temperature at which the external potion achieves pain relief."

"And fourth, I am curious if ingesting this magical menthol will result in an internal feeling of coolness and internal body temperature change."

"Madame Pomfrey will be present when you do this? And you will have an antidote standing by?" asked Remus.

"It is standard protocol to have Madame Pomfrey at hand when I am testing a potion. As for antidotes, I can use a standard remedy for clearing toxins from the body. There are potions which can chelate or neutralize almost any magical substance from the body, as long as it is not a fast-acting lethal substance." Severus explained further, "For example, the silver infused into your blood stream was slow-acting. It would have taken about twelve hours to kill you. Although you were not found for almost six hours, there was still enough time to identify the poison and prepare the antidote."

"When are you planning to do this?"

"Tonight," answered Severus. "Madame Pomfrey will not be available until about 8:30 pm. The trial should not take more than one half hour to complete."

"You are volunteering for what is supposed to be one of the most painful burns one could possibly experience," remarked Remus, keeping his voice casual to prevent Severus from snapping at him.

"I would be pleased to allow you to volunteer," Severus replied dryly, "but as a werewolf your physiological responses are somewhat altered from standard and we could not be certain our data would generalize beyond the werewolf population."

"That may be so, but if there is some way I can assist I would like to," offered Remus.

Hermione sat back and watched the exchange between the two men. Things had changed a great deal between them in the five years since Remus had worked at Hogwarts as the DADA instructor. She suspected she would never know the whole story of what seemed to have resolved things between them.

At one time, Severus would not have spat on Remus if his fur were on fire. Only two weeks ago, Severus saved his life by determining the antidote needed for the poison. Tonight, Remus was recognizing Severus' willingness to accept the pain of an ashwinder burn in order to find a treatment for Crucio. A level of respect had developed between the two somewhere along the line.

Severus appeared to contemplate the request. "Perhaps you could aid with the ashwinders. I would prefer Hermione and Poppy not get anywhere near them."

"Certainly," responded Remus casually.

"I would be willing to take the burn," said Hermione.

Both men turned their heads simultaneously and said, "NO."

'Male chauvinists,' she thought.

"Are you sure there is no other way to do this other than getting burned?" asked Hermione. "No way of simulating the effect or doing another kind of animal test?"

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he looked amused. "You had a difficult enough time dealing with a test on a rat. I doubt you would handle a primate test at all well."

Severus finished his tea and set the mug down. "There are times when it is necessary to test things on oneself. There is scarcely a Potions Master in history who has not done so. The protocol requires the presence of medical help and antidotes. If things go badly, which there is no reason to anticipate given the results of the rat test, Madame Pomfrey is quite capable of treating an ashwinder burn."

"I know," she answered simply, "I'd just prefer you didn't have to go through it." Hermione looked at her watch. "Madame Pomfrey should be here soon. I'll go ahead and set up."

Remus watched as Hermione pulled a pewter cauldron off the shelf. Severus stood and removed his frock coat, draping it over a rickety chair in the corner. He wore one of his standard tailored shirts, buttoned up over his throat with sleeves extending past his wrists. Severus unbuttoned the right cuff and began rolling up the sleeve to above his elbow. Of course, it was the arm without the Dark Mark.

Hermione brought the cauldron over to where Severus stood and placed it on the table in front of him. She did a little fancy wand waving and the cauldron elongated and narrowed, becoming shallower. Severus tested the size by placing his hand and forearm into it. Hermione made it a little longer to give his hand and arm more room. Severus withdrew his arm. Hermione cast a cleansing and sterilizing charm onto what now looked like a log basket made of pewter. She began pouring distilled water into it. Severus took two blue vials out of the cabinet and set them both on the table.

Remus got up and went over to the small ashwinder cage Severus had borrowed from Hagrid. The cage was made from an old cauldron, enchanted to prevent it from melting or distorting in the high heat preferred by the ashwinders. The inside was full of stones and red hot charcoal, simulating an ashwinder pit. There were two eggs in there now that looked ready to hatch. Once they did, the ashwinders would live only for an hour. They lived just long enough to mate, consume fire, produce eggs, and the cycle would begin again.

"I will go upstairs and wait for Poppy," said Remus. He returned about fifteen minutes later, accompanied by the Mediwitch.

"I see I have the privilege of providing backup and repair work if one of your wild experiments goes wrong, Severus," said Madame Pomfrey, primly.

"Fortunately, they rarely go wrong," commented Severus. "Good evening Poppy. Thank you for coming." Severus gave Madame Pomfrey a detailed explanation of what they were doing and what to expect during the experiment.

Remus checked the interior of the ashwinder cage. One of the eggs had hatched and the fiery ashwinder was winding around the stones.

They were ready to begin.

After putting on latex gloves, Hermione poured the vial of the external remedy into the water. She checked the temperature of the water and then charmed it to 80 degrees.

Remus levitated the ashwinder cage up to the table. Severus stood beside it. Hermione had her wand ready in case the ashwinder attempted to travel up Severus' arm. Gritting his teeth, Severus lowered his hand and forearm into the cage. The ashwinder darted and Severus gave a quick grunt of pain as his inside forearm took the burn, just slightly above the wrist. He quickly pulled his hand out and Remus levitated the cage back to the corner on the floor.

Severus cradled his right arm with his left hand. Hermione reached over and uncorked the vial with the internal remedy and held it to his lips. Severus opened his mouth and swallowed the potion. Madame Pomfrey stood beside him, taking readings.

"It should take three minutes for the internal potion to work," said Hermione.

"Your temperature is 98.2, which is normal for you," said Madame Pomfrey. "Blood pressure is 126 over 80, a little higher than usual."

"On a scale of one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain imaginable, where are you now?" asked Hermione.

Remus noticed a dictoquill taking notes on a parchment on the other table.

Severus barely grunted the words out between clenched teeth. "About nine."

Madame Pomfrey looked at the burn. "This is a classic ashwinder burn. It is about three inches long, two inches wide, deep red and blistering around the edges. There is a half inch charred spot at the center. I estimate the deepest part of the burn is ½ inch."

"Two minutes to go," said Hermione. "Are you feeling anything, yet?"

"A little cooler," groaned Severus, his eyes closed.

Madame Pomfrey took another set of readings. "Temperature is 98.1, blood pressure is 122 over 80."

Remus could see drops of sweat on Severus' forehead. He was concentrating on not crying out from the burn, which had to be excruciating. Hermione must have noticed, because she took a flannel from a cabinet and poured some of the distilled water onto it.

"Severus," she said softly, "I'm going to wipe the sweat off your face before it gets in your eyes."

Severus opened his eyes and looked at her. Hermione took the flannel and wiped his forehead. He closed his eyes and she gently wiped the rest of his face.

"How is the pain?" asked Hermione.

"Down to an eight," answered Severus. "I am beginning to feel a chill."

More readings from Madame Pomfrey. "Blood pressure is 116 over 77. Temperature is 97.9 degrees."

"We're getting the vasodilation effect," said Hermione. "Thirty seconds to go."

Remus began a mental countdown. When he reached five seconds, he said it aloud.

"Five, four, three, two, one, zero. We are at three minutes."

Severus plunged his arm into the cooled water.

"The pain just went down to about a six," he said, sounding relieved.

"I will reduce the temperature of the water by one degree every thirty seconds." Hermione looked at her watch and held her wand over the water.

Madame Pomfrey took another set of readings. "Blood pressure is 108 over 75 and temperature is 97.6 degrees."

"Temperature at 79 degrees," said Hermione

"_I am feeling chilled_," said Severus.

"Temperature at 78 degrees."

"Blood pressure is 106 over 72 and body temperature is 97.4 degrees."

"Temperature at 77 degrees."

"_The pain is down to a five_."

"Temperature at 76 degrees."

"Blood pressure is 106 over 73 and body temperature is 97.3 degrees."

"Temperature at 75 degrees."

"_The pain is down to a four_."

"Temperature at 74 degrees."

"_I am cold_."

"Blood pressure appears to be stabilizing at 106 over 75 and body temperature is 97.2 degrees."

"Temperature at 73 degrees."

"_I am starting to shiver_."

"Temperature at 72 degrees."

"_The pain is down to a one_."

"Temperature at 71 degrees."

"_The pain is down to zero_." Severus' teeth were chattering. He was smiling around it.

"Let us keep your arm in there for another thirty seconds at 71 degrees," said Madame Pomfrey. "Blood pressure is 107 over 76 and body temperature is 97.2 degrees."

Hermione was looking at her watch. She gave a countdown, "Five, four, three, two, one." She looked up at Severus who pulled his arm out of the water. Hermione reached over for the towel.

Severus tested his arm, moving it up and down. The water dripped off into the transfigured cauldron.

"There is still no pain and I am still cold," he said.

"Let us give it some time," said Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione placed the towel on the table. Severus rested his arm on the towel.

"Accio Severus' robe," said Hermione.His robe shot out of the corner and into her hands. She stood behind him and placed it over his shoulders.

"Blood pressure is 108 over 76 and body temperature is 97.3 degrees," said Madame Pomfrey. "Still no pain?"

"None," said Severus, "but I am still chilly."

Fifteen minutes later, the burn was still there but there was no pain. Severus blood pressure was back up to 119 over 82 and his body temperature was 98.4. He reported feeling cool, but the shivers and chills were gone.

"I believe we can say this experiment is a success," pronounced Madame Pomfrey. "I will go ahead and heal the burn now." Severus nodded his agreement and a few wand waves and a burn ointment later, his arm looked clear and the skin was healthy.

"Remarkable," said Hermione, looking at Severus' arm. "We live in a world where magic can heal." There was no mark on his arm to show where the burn had been. She lifted her head and smiled at Severus.

Remus leaned back against the cabinet where he had been watching the procedure. It surprised him how smoothly it had gone and how successful the treatment was. But, the truly amazing moment was when Hermione wiped Severus' face with the wet cloth. In that moment in time when Severus opened his eyes and met hers, it was as if there was no one else in the room.

Remus smiled.


	39. Chapter 39

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia for giving this chapter a very thorough review and all of her recommendations, especially about how a proper cup of tea should be brewed. Along with her suggested changes to make the story more authentically British, she has helped make this a better story all the way around.

Dealing with legal stuff and returning to work has consumed more of my time than I anticipated and I haven't had an opportunity to respond to reviews or notes. Thanks to all of you for your patience. My mother and I are doing fine, we're just trying to figure out where Dad went with some of the papers we need. It would really help if "Accio car title" would get results.

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Severus

November 28, 1998

Hermione arrived at headquarters at noon, Ron Weasley in tow. Severus was in the cellar laboratory, reviewing the notes from yesterday's experiment. He was pleased to see her, less pleased to see Weasley.

"Afternoon, Professor," said Weasley.

"Yes, it is Mr. Weasley," answered Severus, not looking up.

"Hermione, are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help? I've got an hour before I have to leave to go on duty," said Weasley.

"I have some black widow spiders in need of euthanizing and dissecting for ingredients since you have time to spare, Mr. Weasley," said Severus, still not looking up.

"Thank you Ron, but there really isn't anything that needs to be done. I took care of the clean-up last night and I'll be preparing the rest of the ingredients this afternoon," said Hermione, amused. She gave Ron a hug. "I appreciate you going with me to the cemetery."

Severus paused in his writing for a moment. He dipped his quill in the ink and returned to writing. Good thing he had not yet made it out to the cemetery. If Hermione was going to make some visits accompanied, he would have to alter his plans for the wards around the graves. He only wanted her to be portkeyed to the cellar and locked in if she was alone at the cemetery.

"You're welcome," said Ron, softly. "Whenever you want to go, just let me know and I'll take you."

"Thanks," she answered, "I appreciate that."

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast then. Harry's coming to the Burrow so we'll get some time together before he has to go on duty and you have to leave," said Ron. "Afternoon, Professor."

"It still is, Mr. Weasley," answered Severus, still writing.

Hermione gave him another hug and Ron headed up the stairs. She walked over to the lab table and pulled out a lab stool opposite of where Severus was sitting.

"That wasn't very nice teasing Ron when you know how terrified he is of spiders," said Hermione, smiling.

Severus raised his head and looked at her.

"It is a well-known fact that I am not nice. And I was not teasing."

"Ron would probably give you a written testimonial to the not nice part," she answered. "How's the arm today?"

"The arm is doing quite well, thank you," answered Severus.

"Would you like tea?" asked Hermione.

"I would, thank you,"

Hermione reached into the backpack that took the place of the worn book bag he remembered from Hogwarts. She withdrew a teapot, which she quickly enlarged and placed on the lab table. She reached in again and took out a box of loose tea and a strainer. Two combs with a snood attached fell out of the backpack, unnoticed. Hermione turned and began filling a small cauldron with water. Severus reached down, picked up the snood, and slipped it into his pocket.

She came back with the cauldron, which she had transfigured to add a pouring lip and a handle, and placed it on the burner. Two mugs joined the teapot on the table. In a few minutes, she was pouring the boiling water into the teapot, swirling it around to warm the pot and emptying it into the sink. She refilled it with the hot water and put in two measures of tea, just the way Severus liked it. Hermione allowed it to steep for four minutes. She placed the small strainer over the first mug and poured, capturing the loose leaves in the strainer. She moved the strainer to the second mug and poured. Hermione set the teapot and strainer down and handed Severus the first mug.

He held the mug under his nose and inhaled.

"Lapsang souchang and orange pekoe," he said. "At last, a civilized cup of tea, prepared in the proper manner."

Hermione looked at the list of ingredients on the box. "Right again. How do you do that? I can see differentiating between sage and oregano, but telling two kinds of black tea apart just by scent is taking it to a whole new level."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Are you certain there's no magic involved in this?"

"Raw talent refined with years of practice," remarked Severus with a certain pride in his voice. "I'll have you know there is no foolish wand waving involved. Certainly you have noticed your sense of smell becoming more discerning the longer you work with potions?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, "I can usually pick out the primary ingredient or two, but once I get to the secondary ingredients, I can't pick them out just by smell. Sometimes I can tell by texture in the potion or the color. I guess it is just something that comes with practice. Plus, I'm a little short on the raw talent end of things," she teased.

"Noticeably so," answered Severus, looking at Hermione's nose. "Shall we go over the results of last night's experiment?"

Hermione took her notebook and pen out of the backpack.

"What are the most significant pieces of data from the experiment?" asked Severus.

"In terms of data, your blood pressure started at 126 over 80. In the three minutes after you took the internal remedy, but before you put your arm in the water, it dropped to 116 over 77. When you put your arm in the water, within thirty seconds it dropped to 108 over 75. As the water temperature was lowered down to 74 degrees, your blood pressure dropped to a low of 106 over 75. It appeared to stabilize there, even though the lowest water temperature was 71 degrees."

"And what is the significance of this?"

"We expected a vasodilation effect," answered Hermione. "Your blood vessels expanded in diameter, resulting in a drop in blood pressure. This achieves an internal cooling probably enhanced by the magical nature of the veneno mentha viridis, which matches the drop in body temperature and your description that you were feeling cold. Conversely, when you removed your arm from the water, your blood pressure gradually increased over fifteen minutes to 119 over 82. You reported that you felt cool, but not cold."

"The systolic blood pressure was more effected than the diastolic," observed Severus, "What is the significance of this?"

Hermione looked puzzled. "I don't know."

"I would like you to research it and get back to me with your opinion. Now, what about body temperature?"

"Your body temperature started at 98.2, which Madame Pomfrey reported to be normal for you. In the first three minutes, your temperature dropped to 97.9 degrees. When you put your arm in the water, your temperature dropped to 97.6 degrees and then reached a low point at 97.2 degrees when the water temperature reached 74 degrees. When you removed your arm from the water, your body temperature increased to 98.4 over fifteen minutes."

"What conclusions can you draw from the data?"

"From the data, I conclude that the internal potion probably caused vasodilation, resulting in the drop in blood pressure. It also caused a drop in body temperature. The external potion enhanced the effect of the internal potion. Given that your blood pressure and body temperature continued to drop until the water temperature reached 74 degrees, either that temperature is the stabilizing point for these two factors or it stabilizes when the potion has been ingested for six minutes, which is how long it took for us to reach 74 degrees."

"And other conclusions?"

"The water was 71 degrees before you received maximum benefit from the internal and external potions, meaning you were pain-free." Hermione shifted and put her pen down. "Those are the only conclusions that can be reached. However, one can speculate about the implications of the results."

"And what would those speculations be?"

"The internal and external potions work on ashwinder burns most effectively when used in combination with cold water. Given that we know heat, cold, and pain messages travel through the same neural pathways, the magical form of gaultheria procumbens menthol probably fits into the neural receptors, causing the perception of cold along with an actual cold experienced through magic induced vasodilation. The cold perception replaced the burn pain because they are incompatible messages in the neural pathways."

"Which supports the theory that?"

"It may be possible to treat Crucio pain using the same method."

"Congratulations, Hermione." Severus leaned back and allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up.

Hermione looked up at Severus and gave him a glowing smile. All things considered, he observed that she tended to smile a lot. She smiled at her friends, smiled when things amused her, smiled when she was pleased, and even smiled at Severus with increasing frequency. A few times when he showed approval for something she'd done or said, she'd given him that glowing smile, the one that crept into her eyes and made her face light up. She looked lovely when she smiled that way.

Severus straightened up. This was serious and no time to be admiring a nineteen year old's features.

"Congratulations to both of us, Severus. You found the ashwinder burn treatment that probably saved years of research to find the right substance which would fit into the neural receptors and get the effect we wanted."

"Perhaps," answered Severus, "But now we need to move onto the Cruciatus treatment. The ashwinder burn potions will form a base for our experiment, so we will need to determine how effective the potions are in their current formulation. We will set up for a rat experiment. Do we have enough of the potions left for a rat trial?"

"Yes, if we use the same dosage we used yesterday."

"Then if you will set up the experiment?" asked Severus. Hermione nodded assent and went to the shelves to get the equipment and the rat cage. Severus was pleased that Hermione did not blanch at the notion of experimenting on the rat again. "While you set up, I will go upstairs and tell Remus I will be casting Crucio so he can adjust the wards accordingly."

In a few minutes, the small cauldron contained distilled water and the external potion. Hermione filled the eyedropper to the proper dosage with the internal potion. She laid a towel next to the bowl. She put on latex gloves and took the rat out of the cage, cuddling the squirmy pink-eyed animal a bit before she put it in the open shallow box. It sniffed and explored in the box. Hermione set the Dictoquill and parchment on the other table.

Severus returned from upstairs, Remus behind him.

"I hope you don't mind my watching," asked Remus. "I'm curious to see how this goes."

Severus nodded his approval. "An extra observer is welcome." He double-checked the arrangements. "Everything is properly prepared. This time, rather than handling the rat you will use levitation to maneuver it. Minimal touching will be necessary when you administer the potion. It makes the pain worse to be touched when Crucio is in full force. Are you ready?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes, sir," she answered. She had her wand ready.

Severus took out his wand and pointed it at the hapless rat.

"Crucio."

The rat tipped over on its side and began to squeal and writhe in pain. Severus took the first readings as Hermione levitated it up.

"Blood pressure is 199 systolic and body temperature is 100 degrees fahrenheit."

Hermione levitated the rat, keeping the eyedropper close. When it opened its mouth, she squirted in the drops of potion. She checked her watch and began a three-minute count.

"Two minutes," she said. The rat continued to writhe and squeal in mid-air, the tail whipping back and forth.

"Blood pressure is 194 systolic and body temperature is 99.5 degrees," said Severus.

"One minute."

"Blood pressure is 191 systolic and body temperature is 99.1 degrees."

"Five, four, three, two, one, zero." Hermione levitated the writhing, squeaking rat into the water. The poor thing splashed and wriggled wildly in the water. She had to position it carefully to keep the head above water.

"Water temperature is 80 degrees," said Severus, "I will reduce it by one degree every thirty seconds."

"Water temperature is 79 degrees. Blood pressure is 185 systolic and body temperature is 98.7 degrees," said Severus.

"The rat is still squeaking and tremoring from Crucio," said Hermione.

"Water temperature is 78 degrees. Blood pressure is 182 systolic and body temperature is 98.6 degrees.

"The rat is not tremoring as strongly."

"Water temperature is 77 degrees. Blood pressure is 179 systolic and body temperature is 98.5 degrees."

"The rat is quieting, but still tremoring."

"Water temperature is 76 degrees. Blood pressure is 178 systolic and body temperature is 98.4 degrees.

"The rat is not squeaking, but is experiencing some mild tremors."

"Water temperature is 75 degrees. Blood pressure is 178 systolic and body temperature is 98.3 degrees."

"The rat is quiet and appears to be resting with some residual tremors."

"Water temperature is 74 degrees. Blood pressure is 178 systolic and body temperature is 98.3 degrees. We will maintain this water temperature for a few minutes and see if there are any further changes."

"One minute," said Hermione. "The rat is still experiencing residual tremors, but is quiet. It is attempting to swim as evidenced by moving its legs in the water."

"Blood pressure and body temperature are stable."

"Two minutes," said Hermione. "The rat is still trying to swim, does not appear to be in pain, but there may be some slight tremoring. I can't tell with it trying to move."

"Go ahead and take it out of the water," said Severus.

Hermione levitated the rat above the water, letting it drip into the cauldron.

"The rat is out of the water after two minutes and thirty seconds past dropping the water temperature to 74 degrees," she said. "I can't say for certain, but it looks like it is shivering."

"Blood pressure is 177 systolic and body temperature is 98.4 degrees."

"I am going to attempt to touch the rat and see how it responds. Remus, could you take over the levitation so I can put down my wand?" asked Hermione.

Remus drew out his wand and levitated the rat. Hermione reached out her hand to the rat, which was wriggling in mid-air like it was trying to get footing. She grasped it with one gloved hand and placed her other hand underneath it to support it. The rat wiggled, but did not squeal or act as if it were in pain.

"Shall I release the levitation?" asked Remus.

"Go ahead," said Hermione. She held the rat in one hand and picked up a towel in the other to dry it off. "It doesn't seem to be any worse for the experience. I'll put it in the box so we can see how it walks." She set the rat down in the box. It was on its feet, scrambling around the box sniffing and looking for an escape route. Remus and Severus looked down into the box.

"I can't see any sign of it being in pain," said Remus.

"I believe there is some tremoring, though rats are so twitchy it is hard to tell," said Severus.

"You didn't inflict a very strong Crucio, Severus. I think it should have taken twenty minutes or so for the rat to recover. It has been ten minutes and the rat looks fine," said Remus. "It looks like you've found a treatment that works. If you can decrease the recovery time by half in a human, that's quite an accomplishment."

"We cannot be certain of that at this point," said Severus.

"Please don't tell me you're planning to be a human test subject again," said Hermione looking rather pale.

"Not yet," answered Severus in a businesslike tone. "There is a good deal of work to be done before we will be ready for human trials. For example, the rat is a rather small animal with very short legs. Muscle cramping in the extremities is a significant part of Crucio pain in humans and we have been treating it with muscle relaxants. I would like to see if a muscle relaxant can successfully be added to the internal potion. There are a number of variations we should experiment with prior to testing on a human."

"Do you have enough of the potion to do a human trial?" asked Remus.

"Not at this point," said Severus. "We need a quantity of the essential oils from veneno gaultheria procumbens and veneno mentha viridis. I believe a combination of the two essential oils will be more effective than a single oil of either. A trip to Diagon Alley to pick up a few more items is needed and then we will have sufficient materials to mix human sized quantities. "

"We have an Order meeting tonight," said Remus, "Why not discuss it with the members who are at the greatest risk of experiencing Crucio? You might find that any of the members would volunteer to be a test subject if they have been attacked and subjected to Crucio anyway. We'd just have to find the means to get them here for treatment."

"Would it be safe to try it, Severus?" asked Hermione. "There's nothing in the potions that poses a risk unless the person is allergic to one of the ingredients. We know that it works for a human on an ashwinder burn, we have an animal test to show effectiveness against Crucio." Hermione took a dry towel and put it in the box with the rat. The rat immediately burrowed into it. "I think the rat is still feeling the cold."

"The treatment itself appears to be harmless enough to the point where it would be unlikely to cause more harm than good," speculated Severus. "If the opportunity were to present itself in the form of an unfortunate victim, we could use the treatment to lessen the pain. If it works on a human as it did with the rat, it is a more effective and faster acting treatment than muscle relaxants and analgesics. It needs to be understood that the potion is in development stages. We may find that adding muscle relaxants to it will help with residual tremoring."

"Then, let's discuss it with Albus when he gets here. I would certainly be willing to go through the treatment if I'd been Crucioed," said Remus. "Merlin knows, I'd rather be cold than in that kind of pain."

Hermione looked quite pleased with the conversation. She picked up her wand and took blood pressure and body temperature readings off the rat.

"Blood pressure is 185 systolic and body temperature is 99 degrees," she said. "It is following the same pattern we found yesterday with treating the ashwinder burns. By the way, could we retire this particular rat from further experimentation? It's been burned by an ashwinder and Crucioed. Shouldn't that be enough for anyone?"

"Hmm," said Severus. "Perhaps Weasley could use a new familiar. He had years of practice with Scabbers."

Remus chuckled. "Then again, perhaps you could give it to Pettigrew next time you see him, Severus. He might need a girlfriend."

Severus gave a rather lopsided smirk as he resisted the impulse to laugh.

"Ah, yes. It would be most amusing to tell Pettigrew I have arranged for him to have a blind date."

"I don't like the direction this conversation is going," said Hermione suspiciously. "Pettigrew would probably just feed her to that giant snake." She picked up the rat and the towel and cuddled it. "I'm going to arrange for this rat to get adopted and let her live out the rest of her days as someone's pet. If I was reasonably certain Crookshanks wouldn't eat her, I'd keep it myself. You can tease me all you like about it," she sniffed.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I thought we agreed you would not give names to the laboratory animals or let yourself get attached to them."

"I was already attached to this one before we had that discussion. And I didn't give her a name."

Remus smiled, watching the banter between the two.

"Have you two had lunch, yet?" he asked. "I was just going to heat up some leftover soup and make a sandwich. Would you care to join me?"

"That sounds good, Remus," said Hermione.

Severus inclined his head in an affirmative.

Lunch was consumed and the afternoon saw the preparation of more Crusciatus treatment potion while Severus made a trip to Diagon Alley to get more ingredients. It was evening before Dumbledore arrived, joining Severus, Remus, and Hermione at the dining room table for an update on their research.

"I am most pleased at the progress you have made," said Dumbledore, "To have found a treatment which has the potential to eliminate the pain from Crucio in half the time is a remarkable accomplishment."

"There is more experimentation which must be done before we can make such a claim," said Severus. "Remus suggested we ask the Order members who are most at risk of experiencing Crucio to volunteer to be test subjects if they are victimized."

"I would certainly be willing to volunteer," said Dumbledore as he reviewed the notes from the experiments, "I believe the others would be willing to do so. The difficulty would be in getting the victim to a place where treatment can be provided in a reasonable amount of time and in safety."

"We could have them portkey here to headquarters," suggested Remus. "We're only talking about a small number of people who already know the Secret-Kept location. The portkey could be charmed to respond only to the person it is made for."

"There is no more risk of exposing the Order's headquarters through a portkey than there is from the knowledge our members already have from apparating here," speculated Dumbledore. "We shall discuss this tonight."

--------------

Tonight arrived rather late and Severus was tired. He had not slept well the night before. Not because of the ashwinder burn test, but because of the nightmare. It had been a while since the nightmare had progressed so far he had woken in a cold sweat. Usually, he could make himself wake up first. Severus had tried to go back to sleep, but could not relax once his mind started working. As a result, he had been up at 4 am marking the Sixth Year's essays on the uses of aconite after having gone to bed at almost midnight.

That damned dream. The last thing he needed was to relive the last years of his parents' lack of marital bliss in his dreams. The recurring nightmare always started the same strange way. He was an adult, but he was also a boy back in his bed in the upstairs back bedroom in the cottage. Hearing the sound of his father's voice shouting at his mother, the boy Severus would sneak down the stairs where he would become an adult again. His parents were in the parlor at the front of the house and he could see his father grasping his mother by the throat with his right hand while pushing her against the wall.

Severus' father was tall with pale skin and black hair, the genetic signature Snape nose prominent on his sharp face. The resemblance his father held to the adult Severus in the dream was even stronger than it had been in real life. His mother was much smaller than his father had been, easily six inches shorter. She was plump with dark brown hair and brown eyes. In the dream, she had both of her hands to his father's wrist, trying to pull the hand away from her throat. It never worked. Severus could see his mother gasping for air as his father closed his large hand around her throat.

Severus was always running, trying to reach her and save her, but the faster he ran the longer the distance became between him and his parents. Then his point of view would change. He would become the boy Severus, then the adult Severus, switching back and forth. The worst part of the dream was when he became his father. It was his right hand at his mother's throat, watching as his mother gasped and clawed at his hand.

That was the point where Severus generally woke in a cold sweat.

Typically, Severus had that particular nightmare about six or seven times a year. In between, he had nightmares with other themes reflecting Death Eater experiences and the violence he had indulged in as a teenaged member. Sometimes the dreams were less definite about reflecting actual events, those were generally about fear. Something or someone was chasing him, hunting him, trying to kill him. The worst of those were the lethifold dreams. He envisioned himself running in darkness through a rainforest, surrounded by those shadowy black satin sheets of malevolent intent. That dream usually ended when the lethifold wrapped itself around him, cutting off his screams as it drew itself across his face.

The dream world was generally not a friend to Severus Snape.

There were nights when he roamed the halls of Hogwarts, trying to exhaust himself sufficiently to sleep again. He did not dare take Dreamless Sleep, given the addicting qualities of the potion. There were times when he took mild relaxants to help himself fall asleep, but they did not keep him asleep. Between assigned patrols, private research, obsessive amounts of reading, Death Eater activities, and the expectations of the Order, Severus tended to operate on short rations of sleep. When the nightmares impeded the quality of that sleep, it took its toll.

Severus was grateful that tonight's meeting would be small. Potter and Weasley were on duty and few others had been invited. Albus, Remus, Minerva, and Arthur would be present. Hermione would be sent back to the Burrow as soon as the discussion of the Cruciatus treatment was done. Unless there was other critical business, which he doubted, Severus intended to go back to Hogwarts right after Hermione left. They had quite a bit of work to do tomorrow.

Dobby was left to doing the cooking and serving tonight. The beef stew was excellent, followed by carrot cake made from a recipe Hermione had obtained from an American serving elf of her acquaintance. Severus believed it might be the same recipe for a carrot cake served at a recent dinner at the Malfoys'. He wondered if Draco sent the recipe to Pudding.

The situation with the Dark Lord would not be discussed until after Hermione's departure, not that there was anything new to tell. The Death Eaters had not been so quiet as they had been recently since Voldemort reincarnated himself into his body.

Albus opened up the discussion to the Cruciatus treatment. Severus sat back and allowed Hermione to explain what they had been doing and the theory behind it. Weary, he found himself listening more to the sound of her voice than the words she was saying. Soft, almost lilting. She was answering questions asked by Minerva and Albus. Gentle, warm, comfortable….

Severus started. He looked around and hoped no one had noticed that he had almost dozed off. Hopefully not, since they seemed to be looking intently at Hermione.

"As things stand now, we have the basic treatment and are looking at enhancements," said Hermione. "We will probably start with muscle relaxants since they ease the spasms and the post-Cruciatus tremors. The internal potion seems to leave the subject feeling cool, perhaps even cold, so the sedative affect often found in muscle relaxants may be a fortunate side benefit."

"Do you have enough of the treatment prepared to make it available now if one of us should happen to be victimized?" asked Arthur.

"Not yet, but we will after tomorrow," answered Severus, mentally reprimanding himself for almost nodding off. "I obtained some of the supplies we need in volume from Diagon Alley this afternoon. I will bring the rest of what is needed tomorrow. A few hours of work should take care of it. I suggest that a supply of the treatment be kept here and also at Hogwarts. That gives us two options for a place to treat a victim."

"Agreed," said Albus. "I will prepare portkeys for the volunteers. All of us here are available and I imagine Harry, Ron, Bill, Nymphadora, Kingsley, and a few others will offer. I do not believe I will even bring up the topic with Mad-Eye."

That brought a round of chuckles.

"I do ask that if there is a victim in need of treatment, please summon me from the college. If it is at all possible to leave, I will," said Hermione.

"I support that notion," added Severus. "Hermione and I need to be able to study the effectiveness of the potions and the treatment methodology. If at all possible, we should both be present along with Madame Pomfrey."

"Agreed," said Albus. "I believe I can contrive a special portkey for each of you which would bring you to the location where the victim is. I will have it for you tomorrow."

"One other thing of which you should be aware," mentioned Severus, "I will be preparing the potion forms of Crucio for purposes of experimentation. I want to determine if the treatment will work for both the Cruciatus curse and Cruciatus potions. If it does, it will provide more information about why it works."

"I presume you will brew them here?" asked Remus.

"It is the safest place to prepare them," answered Severus. "They are Dark potions and I would not want them at Hogwarts."

"I certainly agree, Severus," remarked Minerva.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss regarding the treatment?" asked Albus.

Severus held up his hand. "Just so you are forewarned. The treatment requires immersion in a cold-water bath enhanced with the external potion. That means a certain amount of disrobing on the part of the victim in order to be safely managed and treated in the water. No hexing of those providing the treatment will be tolerated."

Another round of quiet laughter.

"If there is nothing else then, I believe Hermione may be excused," said Albus.

"Unless there is further need for my presence, I find I am fatigued and would like to get back to Hogwarts," said Severus.

Good evenings were said and Severus and Hermione left the house for the apparation point in the back yard. Nods, good nights, yawns, and an agreement to meet at noon tomorrow and the two disappeared to their respective destinations.

Albus remained for a short while, addressing some financial issues of the Order. Taking advantage of an early night, he too departed.

At this point, Arthur, Minerva, and Remus adjourned to the parlor where Remus poured snifters of brandy.

"I'm glad both of you could stay. I wasn't sure we'd be able to get Albus out of here so we could talk," said Remus.

"I must say, Severus looked worn out," said Minerva. "Did you notice how he started to fall asleep when we were talking after dinner?"

"When have any of us ever seen Severus do something like that?" remarked Arthur. "There's a man who not only burns the candle at both ends, he'd burn it in the middle if he could find a way. But, back to the main topic and the reason you asked Minerva and I to stay. What do you think is going on between Hermione and Severus?"

"There's something there," said Remus. "I don't think anything has happened, yet. I think there's a lot of potential."

"What makes you think this, Remus?" asked Minerva.

"The only place the two of them are together is here, which has given me a chance to see them together. Do you know she makes him laugh?"

Minerva's eyebrows went up. "Hermione makes Severus laugh?"

"I swear on Merlin's beard," said Remus. "Yesterday, they were laughing so hard I could hear them from up here. I had to go downstairs to find out what that was about. Severus was in a full blown side aching belly laugh."

"That's not all," he added, "Have you seen how Hermione looks after him? Fixing food he likes, bringing him tea? Little things, but often enough that I could see it happening. And Severus is allowing her to do it? He calls her by her first name and allows her to call him by his. When was the last time he allowed that from someone who was less than five years out of Hogwarts?"

Remus took a sip of his brandy and looked at Arthur. "Then there is the matter of Severus volunteering to deal with Hermione regarding the cemetery. He knows she's troubled about her parents, he understands her situation because of some of the similarities to his own, and he will have to disclose some of that when he catches her at the cemetery."

"He has never spoken of his parents to anyone except possibly Albus and myself," said Minerva thoughtfully. "I will confess, I thought it unusual when Severus offered this informal apprenticeship arrangement they have. Teaching her Wolfsbane, sharing the laboratory here at headquarters, having her do literature searches for him at the college. This is hardly typical of Severus, but I thought he was just making an allowance for an exceptional student."

"That could be the case, Minerva," said Arthur. "With all of his responsibilities, Severus is overworked. He may be giving the extra time now, figuring it will save him work in the long run if he can delegate some potions making to Hermione. It doesn't mean he views her in romantic way."

"It is a lot of little things leading up to what I think is a logical conclusion," said Remus. "Severus has taken to teasing Hermione while she cooks. I think he's flirting with her and is so out of touch with his own feelings, he doesn't realize that's what he's doing."

"You remember that Severus received an ashwinder burn yesterday to test the potions?" continued Remus. "I was down in the cellar with Poppy, observing the experiment. Before the treatment started to work, Severus was in excruciating pain and was trying not to show it. He had sweat pouring down his face. Hermione took a wet flannel and wiped his face. When he looked at her, there was a look on his face like I've never seen before. It was like they were alone in the world. He allowed her to touch him and didn't snipe at her for it. He barely allows Poppy to touch him even when he's half dead after a Death Eater disciplinary session. I believe Severus really cares about Hermione. He's halfway to being in love with her and I don't think he knows it."

"Goodness," said Minerva, looking thoughtful.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Arthur.

"As confident as I can be where Severus is concerned," said Remus sincerely.

Arthur shook his head. "But what about Hermione in all of this? We don't know what her feelings are. Severus might be attracted to her and allow her to look after him, but that doesn't mean Hermione views him in the same kind of light. She's the kind of person who looks after her friends. She does those kinds of things for Molly and I, she does it for Minerva, and she does it for you," he said, looking at Remus.

"Call it instinct, then," said Remus. "There's a different quality to it. She goes out of her way to look after him. It's thoughtful and careful, but she's taken some risks with it. With much of what she's done, if any of us did it, Severus would be offended and you know how he behaves when he's offended."

Remus looked for the right words to express his thoughts. "It is like she has thought it through, considered how far she can go before he typically snaps at someone and she has carefully gone one step farther. I honestly think the attraction is mutual."

Arthur leaned forward, hands cupped around the brandy snifter.

"For arguments sake," said Arthur, "let's say there is a mutual attraction between Hermione and Severus. That still doesn't mean it's a good idea. She's half his age, he's had a whole range of experiences with Dark magic and violence she cannot even begin to comprehend, he's never had a meaningful relationship as near as I'm aware, he's a part-time Death Eater and a spy, and Hermione's a Muggleborn. And I'll grant you that it is none of our business, but because of her work on the poison antidote, we know she's innocent. How could any woman of her age, background, and inexperience have a clue about what it would mean to have a relationship with a man like Severus?"

"Arthur," said Minerva, leaning over and patting his hand, "I daresay you were born to be a father. Hermione is very fortunate to have you and Molly to look after her."

Minerva leaned back and swirled the brandy in the snifter. "Perhaps my perspective in this is a bit different. Listening to the two of you, I think I can sum up each of your arguments. Arthur, you are worried Hermione will end up hurt if they get involved. Remus, you believe Hermione could be the best thing that ever happened to Severus. Am I correct in this?"

Both nodded assent.

"You are both too young to have known Severus' father," she remarked, "But, I did. Julian Snape was a few years ahead of me in school. Of course, he was in Slytherin and I was in Gryffindor, so we had little interaction. But I knew of him, most of the girls did. Julian had a reputation for slapping around his girlfriends even when he was a teenager."

"As I recall," said Minerva, "He had a preference for picking out girls we would now describe as having _low self-esteem_; girls who were overweight, spotty, or not terribly popular for one reason or another. His preferences ran to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The women of his own house and certainly from Gryffindor would not have put up with his abuse for one minute."

"Julian was brilliant. After leaving Hogwarts, he went on to take an apprenticeship in Charms. Ultimately, he ended up specializing in language translation charms. He developed several very complex charms and was responsible for a number of patents for original work. I believe every once in a while, Severus still receives a licensing check, which immediately finds itself donated to a charitable cause of one sort or another."

Minerva paused to sip her brandy. "But, I digress. Even after he left school, Julian used to seek girlfriends from Hogwarts. He preferred his women young, sixteen or seventeen. His abusive behavior continued, but it was never severe enough to have any family call him on it publicly."

"This part is second-hand information I have heard from different sources. When Julian reached twenty-one, there was consensus among the teachers that he needed to be banned from recruiting female companionship at Hogwarts. Albus was deputy headmaster at the time. He told Julian he was over age to be attending Hogwarts social events and banned him."

Minerva held out her empty brandy snifter. Remus refilled it.

"Several years later, I heard Julian was courting Grace Collins. I was a new teacher at the time and Grace was a Sixth Year Ravenclaw. She was typical of the kind of girls Julian targeted. She was rather plump and painfully shy, though intelligent and good at Transfiguration. Julian courted her away from Hogwarts through family connections. One week after Grace finished her education, she married Julian and they settled in London, near the Ministry of Magic."

"I know little of their lives between the time of their marriage and when Severus was born. I believe Grace had a number of miscarriages. After Severus came along, Julian moved them to a home in the country, I believe it was somewhere near the Welsh border. They lived a rather isolated life. Grace taught Severus while Julian worked for the Ministry translating documents and correspondence. They were not a social couple and I do not think Severus had much if any companionship among children his own age."

"I was not the least surprised when the offspring of Julian Snape and Grace Collins turned out to be brilliant, anxious to prove himself, and completely socially inept. The Sorting Hat put Severus straight into Slytherin, which I believe to this day was not in his best interests. I have often thought that if Severus had been sorted into Ravenclaw, he would have had a better chance at making friends. Instead, he had to work his way through the internal politics of Slytherin."

Minerva looked at Remus and Arthur, who were clearly hanging on her every word. "I realize you know much of Severus' history after this point, but perhaps not from the perspective of a teacher who watched Severus live through it."

"As I said earlier, Severus had no social skills. I believe it was a direct result of living the isolated life his father chose for his family. Like some abusive men, Julian Snape viewed his wife and son as possessions rather than people. He allowed them no friends, no associations. As came out in the hearings after the murder, Julian treated the two like property and enforced his will with an iron hand. After the murder, the examination of Grace's body revealed signs of magically healed broken bones and cigar burns from years of physical abuse. I will not betray Severus' confidence, but I can tell you that not all of the scars he carries are from Voldemort's punishments."

"It seems Grace was waiting for Severus to be safely away from his father before she made her attempt to break away from Julian. It was in the autumn of his First Year when his mother took a lover. Apparently, the lover persuaded her to leave with him in the spring."

"It was while she was making preparations to leave her husband that Julian found out. The Wizengamot concluded that he went into a rage, beat and strangled Grace. Realizing he had killed his wife, he slit his wrists. It is most fortunate Severus was not at home at the time. I believe Julian would have killed him, too. After all, when your wife and son are your property, they are yours to dispose of as you see fit," she said grimly.

"Severus was devastated by the loss of his mother and the circumstances of his parents' deaths. On top of that, he was in Slytherin where there was little emotional support to be had. For all that Lucius Malfoy is a slimy, manipulative, arrogant, amoral snake-in-the-grass; one of the few good deeds he ever did was taking Severus under his wing at that stage in his life. It gave Severus protection from other Slytherins and some emotional support. Unfortunately, when Lucius joined the Death Eaters, Severus was his number one priority for recruitment."

"Which brings us back to the issue of Hermione and Severus," sighed Minerva. "Remus, you know how awkward Severus was around girls. He had a few flirtations and one relationship that went sour and made him even more reticent."

"Minerva," interrupted Remus, "If you are trying to protect my delicate sensibilities by not mentioning Lily by name, I already know. In my circle of friends, I was the agony aunt. Lily told me about her fling with Severus during the time she broke up with James."

"Ah," said Minerva, "that does make it easier that you know. How odd is it, I wonder, that Severus seems to have a thing for Gryffindor women? Except in Lily's case, she only wanted Severus to get back at James."

"That's how I see it," said Remus, "Lily chose Severus because he was a slap in the face to James. Afterwards, she admitted to me that she was using Severus."

Remus looked down, embarrassed. "She called him a pity shag she could use to get even. It worked. When James realized she was having her fling, he was blindly jealous. All he did was crook his finger at Lily and she was right back with James. She dropped Severus like a bad habit."

"Lily could be manipulative in her own way, Remus," said Minerva pensively. "There are times I wonder if she might have been sorted into Slytherin had she been even a half-blood. I do not doubt that she loved James and they would have had a good and happy marriage. She was also ambitious and determined to marry well to counteract her Muggleborn status."

"You do realize the two of you are not reassuring me that Severus would be a good choice for Hermione," said Arthur. "You've given me more reasons to worry than I had before."

"If Severus were like his father, I would agree with you," said Minerva. "Severus is most definitely not his father. Severus has a conscience and a powerful sense of right and wrong. That is Grace's influence. He may have set it aside when he allied himself with Voldemort under Lucius' influence, but once he had to live the life of a Death Eater, it came back with a vengeance. No one alive could judge Severus Snape more harshly than Severus Snape judges himself."

"As for his relationships with women and how he treats them, I would describe Severus as a late developer, utterly awkward, with no self-confidence. If he were inclined to be abusive, he would never have lasted one term as a teacher. Heaven knows, Julian would not have gone two weeks without trying to seduce a student or striking someone."

"Severus verbally skewers everyone, male and female alike. He has never raised his wand to a student, even though he is brutal on House points and comes up with some of the most disgusting detentions in the history of Hogwarts."

Remus looked at Minerva questioningly, "Do you think that the reason Severus isolates himself so much, especially from women, is out of a fear that he might be like his father?"

"Precisely so, Remus," nodded Minerva. "You must remember that Severus' knowledge of his father is from a twelve year old's perspective. All he knows is that he looks like his father, is intelligent like his father, and has a temper like his father. He cannot see that he handles himself very differently from his father. Combine it with leading the double life he has had to sustain all these years, the fact that anyone he loves could be used against him by Voldemort, a guilty conscience, and lack of confidence in his ability to make a relationship work and you have a man who is going to need for love to sneak up on him while he is not looking and cosh him over the head."

"From what Remus has observed, this may be happening to him right now. When Severus realizes it, I believe it will scare the hell out of him that anyone was able to find a way through his defenses. He may run away from the relationship or try to sabotage it."

Minerva continued, "If Hermione does not return his feelings, she will likely be very confused by Severus rejection of her friendship. If she does return his feelings, I think it will depend on how strongly she wants a relationship with him as to how this will turn out."

"Hermione is another late developer who has little confidence in herself when it comes to relationships with men that fall outside of friendship or family feelings. She has more in common with Severus than you may realize, Arthur. Both are brilliant, scholarly, and socially awkward. Hermione's lack of social skills and social judgment kept her from having friends until she connected with Ronald and Harry."

"For whatever it is worth, I think if Hermione Granger can get past the walls Severus has built up around himself, she will find no one who will love her more deeply, faithfully, and completely than Severus. He would probably do himself an injury rather than knowingly hurt her. He will very likely make mistakes, as will Hermione. They both have a good deal to learn about making a relationship work, but if the love is there and the friendship that seems to be developing, this could be very good for both of them."

Remus looked at Arthur. "Minerva has managed to express my thoughts far more eloquently than I ever could. I think a relationship between Severus and Hermione could end up making both of them happy. But they are in a difficult circumstance."

"Even if Severus were clear in his thinking about her," explained Remus, "He cannot court her in the traditional way. They cannot be seen together, cannot be together anywhere except here. All I'm suggesting we do is give them space and a chance for them to work things out. With Harry and me living here, Ron practically living here, and Order members coming and going at all hours, they are in the middle of the goldfish bowl. Thankfully, they have the lab and no one will think it is odd for them to spend hours together there."

Arthur scratched his head. "So, all we are going to do is leave them alone and let them work this out?"

"And keep our suspicions to ourselves," urged Remus, "If Ron or Harry found out, we'd have trouble."

"Even worse, if Albus finds out, he will decide what is best for the outcome of this war and manipulate Severus and Hermione to get his way," said Minerva.

Arthur and Remus stared at Minerva, shocked.

"Oh stop it, you two. I've been friends with Albus for fifty years and know him far better than both of you. I love him dearly, but he is a meddler and not always in the best interests of the people involved," lectured Minerva. "Part of the agreement needs to be that if Albus suspects something, we try to allay his suspicions."

"And if Severus does anything to break Hermione's heart?" asked Arthur.

"We hex him," answered Minerva and Remus simultaneously, followed by laughter.

-----------------

One of the reviewers brought up the issue of Celsius versus Fahrenheit and which would be authentically used in England. The brilliant Julia, who has been Brit-picking this story, reports that both are used:

"_SOME people in England use the metric system – it is imposed by law and taught in schools but many people simply don't understand it and continue to use Imperial Measurements. _

_Temperate is now SHOWN in Celsius on weather maps but often given verbally in Fahrenheit as well. _

_From the BBC weather website:_

**"_Celsius v Fahrenheit_**_  
Responsibility for the general replacement of the imperial measures (such as Fahrenheit) with metric (Celsius) rests with successive Governments, who decided that the country should shift to the metric system._

_Imperial measurements, however, are not excluded from our broadcasts because there are still a great many people who are only familiar with the imperial system. As a public service broadcaster, the BBC must cater for both systems to try and ensure, as far as possible, no section of our audience is alienated. The general rule for weather is that we show Celsius values on our graphics, but also give equivalent Fahrenheit figures verbally when they are unusual for the time of year or significant in some other way."_

When I composed the chapters where Severus and Hermione conduct experiments or implement the cold immersion Crucio treatment, I initially tried to use Celsius. However, I am most definitely not a numbers person and kept getting confused and lost in the conversions – even though it may seem simple to others. I am most definitely mathematically challenged. Quite honestly, I ultimately rationalized the whole thing and decided to go with Fahrenheit because Hermione's going to college in the United States where Celsius isn't in common use.

Thanks again to Julia for the British perspective.


	40. Chapter 40

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for her comments, suggestions, and support. Congratulations on beginning a wonderful new chapter in your life!

Warning: The vibrator and alcohol make guest appearances in this chapter.

---------------------------

Hermione

December 11 1998

Hermione bent over, her hands pressed against the counter, elbows braced to keep her from falling forward. The sensuality of the movements of his hands was irresistible. It felt so good, she wanted to moan.

"You have a gift for this," she murmured.

"I have been told that before," he answered, his voice silky.

"I'm getting really wet, here."

"You are positively dripping."

"You aren't going to stop are you?"

"Not until I get all of the hair conditioner out," said Warren, using the sprayer attachment to rinse the potion from Hermione's hair. His hand massaged her scalp as he worked. "I think I've got it here. Hand me the towel, Draco."

Draco, smirking at the double entendre in the conversation, picked up the towel and handed it to Warren. Hermione started to straighten up, holding her dripping head over the sink. Warren wrapped the towel around the thick mass and squeezed a bit to get out the excess moisture.

Hermione straightened up and used the edge of the towel to mop her face and dab at her t-shirt. Warren might give a fabulous scalp massage, but he'd got water all over her in the process. She sincerely hoped it didn't look like she was participating in a wet t-shirt contest. Warren Stevens might be uninterested in women in a sexual way, but she didn't care to have Draco or Warren seeing her nipples through a wet shirt and bra. Spotting the second bath towel on the table, Hermione grabbed it and draped it across her shoulders like a shawl, covering the nipples in question.

Draco chuckled, realizing full well what Hermione was doing. She didn't look bad in the wet t-shirt, wearing a couple lacy bits of fabric underneath it and a pair of very nicely shaped breasts with nice taut nipples. Could make a bloke rather excited if a certain pretty brunette didn't already have a claim to him.

"Okay, Hermione," said Warren. "Have a seat and let's take a look."

Hermione sat in a chair by the table in the common kitchenette shared by the students living on the sixth floor of the dorm. The room was small, but had the deepest sink on the floor, making it easier to participate in the every week hair washing ritual as the multidisciplinary project team tested the most recent formulation of shampoo and hair conditioner on Hermione's frizzy mop.

The best part of it for Hermione was the pure delight of having someone else wash her hair and comb it out. Warren took the towel and gently squeezed Hermione's head, soaking up more of the water. Lifting the towel away, he tossed it at Draco who caught it neatly, his Seeker's skills wasted on an airborne wet towel.

"It might be frizzy, Hermione, but I think it's gorgeous," said Warren. "Look at Draco here." Warren gave Draco a wink, which made him rather uncomfortable. He'd really rather not have Warren flirting with him. "He's got beautiful color, but it's absolutely bone straight. Attractive, but not unusual except that his hair color is natural, which God help me, I do so envy."

He picked up a wide tooth comb and sectioned off a hank of hair. He began at the ends, combing gently and working his way up.

"Then, you look at my hair," he continued. "My hair costs a fortune to keep the color right. My natural color is a mousy brown, but it looks much better as long as I have blonde highlights. I add nice soft waves to it, which look good because my face is long and narrow. Plus, I'm tall and thin and have broad shoulders. Layers and waves look good on me, because it softens all the angles."

Not signaling a change of subject, Warren continued. "This hair conditioner is really doing a good job with the tangles. The comb is going through your hair like pure silk. Though I've never combed pure silk so the analogy might not be right." He continued combing and Hermione leaned her head back, enjoying the feeling.

"So, here we have Hermione with beautiful golden brown color with all the highlights built right in. And we have thick hair of medium width strands. The only problem is that it falls right between wavy and curly, which results in frizzy. Because of the curl, the cuticle isn't smooth so it isn't shiny. So if we do something to smooth the cuticle that would make it wavier and less curly, we have shiny wavy hair." Warren shifted Hermione's head this way and that, looking to make sure he'd combed out all the tangles.

"Okay, Hermione, we're all done here," he announced. "Let's see what happens when we do a drying charm. That's your job, Draco."

On cue, Draco took out his wand, waved it in a figure 8 with two flicks and said, "Arefacio Caesaries."

A bit of mist rose off Hermione's hair as the water evaporated. Her hair shortened as the strands of hair dried and the curl took up the length.

"How does it look?" asked Hermione hopefully.

Draco smiled at her and Warren grabbed her shoulders.

"Hand the girl a mirror, Draco."

Draco picked up the mirror and held it in front of Hermione.

"Your hair is shinier," stated Warren authoritatively. "We didn't get it down to waves, but we definitely made progress with this one."

"It is shinier," said Hermione, taking the mirror from Draco and moving it about to see different angles of her hair. "This is great. We're all set to submit our project for mid-year review. And my hair looks much better. I like this. The next time I wash it, I'll let it dry naturally and see what it does."

"What can we do to get the cuticle smoother and loosen the curl?" mused Warren.

"We've played around with the ingredients," said Draco, "I think we need to do something with a charm. I wonder if charming one of the ingredients to make it stronger would work. Why don't we split up the ingredients and do some investigating to see if there's something in the literature about the effect of charms on the ingredients?"

"Good idea, Draco," said Warren. "Could you two work out the assignments? I need to get going if I'm going to meet Brian in time for dinner. We're going to go see _Shakespeare in Love_. Joseph Fiennes is so hot, just like his brother. Gods, Ralph is such a sexy name, especially the way you Brits say it.

"Hermione and I will e-mail everybody their assignments," said Draco, ignoring the hot comment, "Go ahead and take off."

Warren scooped up his backpack and put the mirror inside. "I'll probably be tied up the rest of the weekend, if I ask really nicely," he said. "I'll see you in class on Monday, Hermione. See you around, Draco."

Hermione cast a quick drying charm over herself and the towels.

Draco looked at Hermione. She looked tired again, but they were getting ready for final exams and realistically, everyone was tired. Still, Hermione was the most organized person he knew. She had finished her term papers right after the Thanksgiving holiday. His were due this week and there was one he hadn't started yet. Thanks to the Internet, he was planning to buy one from a term paper website and make a few revisions and pass it off as his own. Non-wizarding history just wasn't worth the work.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" Draco asked.

"Pizza, studying, and an early bedtime."

Hermione looked at him and tilted her head. In someone else he would have thought they were being coy. In Hermione it usually meant curiosity. She straightened and put her hand on his arm.

"So where are you and Anita going? And don't worry about me. Adam and I had fun, but that's it. My heart is not broken."

"Steve Breckon from physics asked you out and you turned him down."

Hermione laughed. "Steve didn't ask me out on a date. He offered to fulfill my needs since he heard I'd broken up with my boyfriend." She shook her head. "He's an idiot."

"I can't believe he did that," said Draco, irritated. "What a pig."

"Don't be concerned about it, I'm fine. Why don't you walk me down to my room and we can work out our hair care research assignments before you leave. You still haven't told me where you're going tonight?"

"Anita and I are going to a Christmas music concert. He folks got tickets for some charity thing," said Draco.

"That sounds really nice. Are your parents big on celebrating the holidays?" asked Hermione.

"My mother decorates, or I should say she supervises the house elves while they decorate. We have a Yule party every year the Saturday before Christmas. It's a big society deal."

"It's a good thing term is done before then, isn't it?"

They stood in front of Hermione's room. She smiled, realizing Draco wanted to go have fun with Anita and her family, but felt guilty about leaving Hermione with nothing to do on a Saturday night.

"Go ahead, Draco. I'll split up the ingredients and get a head start on the rest of you." She gave him a reassuring look.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely." Hermione opened the door to her room. "Good night, Draco." She stepped inside and shut the door. He waited outside for a moment, put his hands in his pockets and walked down to his own room.

Hermione kicked off her shoes. She was greeted by Crookshanks, who came trotting out of his litterbox and wrapped himself around her ankles. Hermione scooped him up and scratched his chin till he purred. Butterscotch, another student's ginger cat, came out from under the day bed and rubbed herself against Hermione's leg.

"Well, have you been entertaining, Crooks?" Hermione flopped down onto the daybed with Crooks and Butterscotch on either side, each getting a good ear scratching. Hermione stopped and reached for her wand, pointed it at Crookshanks' toy basket and levitated a toy mouse out of it. She let it fall to the floor and then made it scoot around on the carpet. Butterscotch shot off the daybed and began batting at the mouse. Crookshanks got up and climbed onto Hermione's lap. Very contentedly, Hermione played and cuddled with the two cats until they appeared to have had enough of that and shot out the cat door into the hallway.

Hermione looked at the clock. It was almost six and she was getting hungry. It was dark outside and the lights from the building across the street were shining in the window. She didn't really feel like studying. She'd been studying all week.

She could watch a video. She had a small collection she was building. She had every movie Keanu Reeves or Harrison Ford ever made.

She should order the pizza.

Or, she could go shopping.

This was Chicago after all. Hogsmeade's shops would be closed by now, except for dining establishments and taverns.

In Chicago, the palace of shopping known as Water Tower Place would be open until midnight.

She could take a cab.

She could finish her Christmas shopping.

Hermione got up, refilled Crookshank's water dish and food bowl, magically cleaned the kitty litter, refilled the rat's water dispenser and added more food pellets. She still hadn't named the rat, but she did carefully ward the rat cage to keep the cats away from it.

A stop in the bathroom, grabbing a coat, and taking essentials out of the backpack and putting them in a small purse, Hermione was out of the door.

The shopping began at a bookstore where Hermione looked at the best seller's rack. She purchased a copy of The_ Greatest Generation_ by Tom Brokaw for Minerva and _Talking to Heaven_ by James Van Praagh for herself.

Having a book in hand to read, Hermione stopped at the food court and bought a baked potato stuffed with cheese, broccoli, and bacon for dinner. She sat, sipping the iced chai tea she'd developed a taste for and ate her meal as she read. Hermione thought back to a year ago when she had to go through her first Christmas without her parents. At least she was past the first anniversary and didn't think compulsively about how her parents had been alive a year ago. Finishing her food, she packed up the books and headed off for more shopping.

The next stop was a leather goods store where Hermione bought high quality gloves for all of her adopted brothers, Harry, Molly, and Arthur. One of the nice things about being a witch was that she could resize the gloves to fit each of them. Having a theme for her gifts might be boring, but it worked. Hermione Granger prided herself in being the Ultimate Practical Girl.

Next on her list was Ginny. Hermione knew exactly what she wanted to get for her and headed straight to Victoria's Secret.

It was fine lingerie for Ginny, a hedonist in the making. Hermione walked into the store, bras, knickers (panties, Hermione corrected herself), slips, teddies, and all kinds of dainties. Hermione looked at bits of satin and lace, sexy things of a kind Ginny had never owned as a cash-strapped Weasley.

Hermione selected a black teddy and grinned wickedly as she thought about Harry's reaction to seeing Ginny in it. Next, Hermione picked out a satin set with a red bra and tap panties. She'd have to get Ginny another gift which she could give her in public. There was no way she could give these to Ginny in front of her family. Perhaps she'd better get another pair of gloves.

Actually, the lingerie was more of a Christmas gift for Harry given the way Ginny was likely to use them. Hermione smiled in delight at the thought of her gift as a catalyst for a romantic interlude.

Hermione worked her way towards the back of the store. She stopped and caught her breath when she saw the manikin.

'This is beautiful,' thought Hermione.

She reached up and touched the fabric of the negligee. The manikin wore an exquisite concoction of beige lace and satiny fabric. The top was made of the lace, plunging to a deep V in front with wide straps. Hermione touched the lace, pulling on it. It had spandex or some stretchy material in it. It was made to mold to the breasts and let the skin show through the tiny open bits in the lace. The lace gathered under the breasts where the satin fabric flowed to the ankles. It had a satiny finish, but was thin. Wear this and stand in front of a fireplace and you'd be able to see the form underneath quite plainly.

This was a nightgown made for seduction. Or to be seduced in.

Hermione looked at the price tag. Ouch.

But this would be for someone really special. For my first time. The one I've been waiting for.

He'd have hard-on as soon as he saw me in it. He wouldn't be able to wait to get me out of it.

It's beautiful.

Hermione walked to the rack behind it. She found the nightgown in her size.

I must be meant to have it or they would have sold out all of the ones in my size.

Who am I to deny fate?

Hermione took the nightgown off the rack and carried it to the sales counter.

Five minutes later, her purchases were in a bag labeled _Victoria's Secret_ and Hermione was on her way to the next shop.

At 10:30 pm, Hermione was back at the dorm, arms loaded with bags. She had a distinctly feminine feeling of utter shopping triumph. She'd taken advantage of sales and had almost all of her shopping done.

She was still waiting for Adam to finish preparing one of the gifts. In spite of the split, Hermione went out of her way to make certain they stayed on speaking terms. She did not want Anita to feel uncomfortable. Besides, Adam wasn't a bad sort and she did like his new girlfriend.

Hermione decided to give one gift early. She took the exercise wheel out of the package and set it in the rat cage. The rat sniffed it, walked through it, sniffed it once more, and apparently had no clue how to use it. Oh, well.

She took her other purchases out and set them on the small table she used to hold the overflow from her desk when she had a project in progress. She held the tissue wrapped negligee and carefully unwrapped it.

"I have to see how this looks."

Hermione closed the drapes and took off her clothes, dropping them into a laundry bag. She removed the tags from the nightgown and pulled it over her head. She adjusted the lacy bodice and stood in front of the long mirror on the bathroom door.

The beige lace negligee made her look taller, shapelier. She magically adjusted the lighting so that she was backlit. Yes. She had been right; her form could be seen right through the nightgown. She adjusted the light back to normal. The lace molded itself to the shape of her breasts. Did it make them seem too small?

She considered herself in the mirror, turning to the side. No. Her breasts looked nice, her nipples hidden behind the fabric, her pale skin showing through the lace. The deep V looked enticing.

Hermione could imagine lips and a tongue tracing their way down the cleft between her breasts. She ran her hands down the fabric, imagining they were his hands. Her eyes closed as she reveled in the feeling of hands running down the smooth fabric of the nightgown. His hands, long fingers, graceful and gentle. His hands went to her breasts, stroking, playing with the nipples, teasing them to hardness.

She wanted more. To have more, she needed to open her eyes, get to the bed, bring the vibrator. She pulled the nightgown over her head and put it on a hanger. It felt good to be nude, her skin felt sensitized, aroused. She moved slowly, sensuously, enjoying the cool air on her skin, pulling the down the blankets on the daybed, arranging the pillows, feeling the softness of the sheets against her skin.

He was beside her in the bed. His hands traveled down her sides, making her breath hitch. A mouth moving down the side of her neck, leaving kisses behind, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. She could feel his hair as it brushed against her skin, the roughness of five o'clock shadow as he rubbed his face against her bare breast.

Hermione gasped as his tongue found her nipple, tracing the areola, mouthing and suckling. She rolled onto her back, feeling him move with her. He was over her now, she could feel his skin against hers. His chest against her bare breasts, his hips between her thighs, fingers moving down between them and across the pubic mound, through her labia finding the nub, giving it a quick teasing swipe.

Hermione moaned with pleasure as his head traveled down the length of her body, trailing his hair across her as he moved. His tongue in her navel, his hands at the small of her back. He was kneeling between her legs as he pushed her knees up and spread her legs wide. His face dropped to the center of her pleasure, his nose rubbing against her. Her hands were in his hair as his tongue moved to the place she most wanted it to be.

His mouth sucking on her clitoris, a moment later his tongue slipping inside her, the pleasure building, mounting, spiraling, so close, so close, more, just a little more, just a little harder, please, please, please.

Her hips lifted off the bed, her body spasming in the throws of the finest orgasm she'd yet experienced. Hermione switched off the vibrator as she allowed her hand to fall to her side.

'Oh, Severus. I want you so badly it hurts.'

'Please.'

'He doesn't see me that way. How can I get him to see me the way I see him?' Hermione rolled onto her side and sighed.

It had started innocently enough, if having sexual fantasies about a man's hands is a relatively innocent pastime. A little at a time, the mystery lover began taking on more and more of Severus' physical attributes (at least the ones of which Hermione was reasonably certain).

Since getting the vibrator, Hermione's fantasies were paying off with an actual climax, which was enough to encourage more frequent fantasies. So the mystery wizard got taller, his frame thinner, his hair longer, and that wonderfully sensuous voice started whispering dirty little nothings in her ear. During one truly exceptional fantasy, during those last moments of intense need just before climax, the very distinctive face of Severus Snape appeared on Hermione's fantasy lover.

She'd felt guilty about it until after a few more sessions, she was finding it more difficult to achieve the magical moment without thinking of Severus. Not even thinking about Keanu Reeves (dark hair, long fingers, strong nose) could give her as strong an orgasm as one good Severus fantasy.

When she was dating Adam, she'd tried putting his face and form into her fantasies which left her feeling about as aroused as a trout in a display case at a grocery store.

'He knows I'm a virgin. I wonder if that's a turn-off?'

'I would think most men would consider it a turn-on, that first and only thing.'

'But, he was a Death Eater. Heaven only knows what kind of sexual experiences he's had. A beginner might not hold the least interest for him.'

'I can't even begin to approach him. If he isn't interested, I'd ruin everything. He has to make the first move. I want to keep him as a friend, if that's all I can get.'

'Not that I would know how to make the first move.'

"Aaargh!"

Hermione lay on her stomach and punched her pillow.

'Why am I even thinking about this? If he got the slightest idea I was interested in him that way he'd skewer me into the little pieces, probably humiliate me in front of my friends, and boot me out of the cellar lab with lectures about inappropriate behavior.'

'Hopeless. I am so hopeless.'

'I finally get somewhere where men don't think of me as Harry Potter's best friend and queen of the planet Geektron because most of us at Avalon are geeks and I can't dredge up the least bit of interest in any of them because I'm lusting after my former teacher.'

'There are names for women like me.'

"Loser."

'On top of it, he's encouraging me to stay a virgin so I can make specialized healing potions.'

'Do convents take witches? At least I could get bonus points for virginity and be a Bride of Christ. It might be the only way I get to be a bride of anything. I think Harry and Ron have always wanted me to take the veil.'

'I might as well just dry up now. I'm depressing myself on a night when I got the most gorgeous negligee and the best orgasm I've ever had. Oh, yes. The best orgasm I get to have is with a piece of rubber without an actual man attached to it.'

Hermione looked at the clock. It was 11:40 pm.

'I wonder if Anita and Draco are back?' Hermione put her hands over her head. 'If they are, they are probably working their way through the _Kama Sutra_. Both of them said if I ever needed anything, I should ask. I need a drink and a butterbeer isn't going to do it. If any two people would know where we could get something to drink, they would. I'm going to do it.'

Hermione got up and threw on a pair of pajamas. They were a Christmas gift from Harry two years ago, pale yellow flannel with bright yellow ducks on them. She walked over to the telephone and dialed Anita's extension. Four rings and a sleepy sounding Anita answered.

Cough. "Hello?"

"Anita, its Hermione."

Another cough. "Hermione? What time is it? Are you okay?"

"It's 11:45 pm and I want a nice stiff drink," said Hermione.

'Well, I want a nice stiff something and I'm more likely to get it in a drink,' she thought.

"Wake up Draco and ask him if he's got anything hidden in his room. Tell him no excuses will be accepted. He spent seven years in Slytherin, so I'm sure he learned how to sneak alcohol into a warded building."

"Can you give us fifteen minutes to get decent and we'll come up with something?"

"Deal." Hermione hung up. She proceeded to pace around the room. Stopping at the desk, she opened the bottom drawer and checked the journals. No glows. No new messages. She opened the black journal and reread some of Severus' last messages.

_November 13, 1998_

_Hermione,_

_Lupin looks set to make a complete recovery from the poisoning. The Headmaster reports your portion of the potion was prepared correctly. I suspect, more correctly than his. Fifty points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger._

_Severus_

_------------_

_December 7, 1998_

_Hermione,_

_When will you return to England for the winter break and how long will you be able to stay? I am planning another lesson on Wolfsbane and the next full moon will be January 1st. Lupin will truly be able to howl in celebration of the New Year. _

_I have obtained the ingredients for the potion forms of Crucio. When you return, you may observe my preparation of them. You may only observe. These are Dark potions and you will one day stand for licensing and be required to swear you have not participated in the making of the potion forms of the Unforgiveables. _

_Our research will proceed accordingly._

_Severus_

'Not exactly love letters. At least he gave House points for virginity and doesn't want me to have to lie in front of the licensing commission.'

'Ron and Harry would approve. Molly and Arthur would approve. My dear departed grandmother would approve.'

'Maybe I could write him back and ask if he'd fancy a shag in between counter clockwise stirs of Wolfsbane?'

Hermione heard a knock on her bathroom door. She closed the journal and shut it in the drawer.

She opened the door and Anita was standing there in her bathrobe with Draco right behind her. Draco, bless his heart, had a bottle in hand. Figures Draco would have a gorgeous gray velvet dressing gown.

"Come in, please. I'd like to be a gracious hostess," said Hermione waving them towards the chairs. Hermione went to sit on the now unmade daybed and realized the vibrator was on top of the blanket. She quickly shoved the blanket over it. "Allow me to get some glasses. What are we drinking?"

"Hermione, are you all right?" asked Draco suspiciously. "This isn't exactly like you."

"No, it's not, is it? Hermione Granger, as a general rule, is too uptight to do such things as drink in the dormitory. Or to drink at all," she stated quite emphatically. "There's a long list of things Hermione Granger doesn't do. You have no idea."

Anita and Draco exchanged glances.

"Are you sure you haven't been drinking already?" asked Anita carefully.

"No. Not a drop in me. Hermione Granger, good girl, wouldn't do such a thing. Would she, Draco?" demanded Hermione.

Draco stood up in a sudden desire to be very busy. "I've got an ice bucket in my room. We need something to mix this with." Draco held up the bottle. "Would lemon-lime soda do?"

Hermione leaned forward and frowned. "That bottle says _Tea with Ginseng_ on it."

"It was a going-off-to-college present from Blaise Zabini," said Draco. "It's charmed so the wards read the bottle and its contents as tea with ginseng, but you can put anything you want in it. This just happens to have fifty-year-old firewhisky in it left over from my leaving school party. If you like firewhisky straight, this is pretty good stuff."

"Well, then why bother with a mixer?" asked Hermione.

Anita shot Draco a look.

"It's really strong if you aren't used to drinking it straight. I'll just go and get the ice and soda," said Draco, going out of his way to be amiable. "Be right back."

"Hermione," said Anita, now that Draco was out of the room, "What's wrong? You're obviously upset about something."

"Oh, look," said Hermione brightly, "Draco left the bottle." She jumped up and went to closet. Rummaging around, she found a small package of plastic cups and took out three. "Would you like some?"

"Why don't we wait for Draco to get back with the soda and ice? I know you Brits like your drinks warm, but I really prefer mine cold," suggested Anita, hoping to delay what sounded like the beginning of a drinking binge. "Have you ever had firewhisky before?"

"Not the fifty-year-old kind," answered Hermione, opening the bottle and taking a sniff. "I tried some of the five-year-old version, but it tasted awful."

The door opened and Draco returned carrying a bucket of ice and cans of soda. He spotted Hermione sniffing his fifty-year-old firewhisky and decided to intercept it.

"Allow a master to make the preparations," he said in his most charming voice as he stepped beside Hermione and gave her a quick one-armed hug around the waist, snatching the bottle of firewhisky with the other.

Anita nodded to Draco, fully approving of the interception.

Taking the three plastic cups, Draco filled about one fifth of the cup with firewhisky, added lemon-lime soda, and two ice cubes. A little wand waving and the ice cubes stirred the drinks. Draco handed them around.

Hermione took a sip and nodded. "This is pretty good. I've only had the cheap stuff before and I thought it tasted like road tar mixed with rubbing alcohol."

"You know, I've heard someone else describe it that way, but I can't remember who," said Draco.

"Would you two like some popcorn?" offered Hermione.

"Sure," said Anita.

Hermione went back to the closet and pulled out a box of microwave popcorn. She took out two bags and tore off the plastic wrap. Hermione aimed her wand at the first one and whispered a few words. A steady golden glow enveloped the bag, which started to expand as the popcorn popped.

"How did you do that?" said Anita.

"I'll tell you how to do the next one," said Hermione. "I had to experiment with this a few times to get it right. The first time I tried it, I set fire to the bags. I exploded a few, too."

The next several minutes were occupied with popping all of Hermione's microwave popcorn, including the box she had in reserve. It really did take focus and excellent wand control to pop the corn without setting fire to the bags. One bag exploded, pelting the three of them with popcorn and scaring Crookshanks out of his napping place on the windowseat. The room was filled with the smell of buttered and burned popcorn along with the sound of laughter as more drinks were consumed. This time Anita mixed the drinks, adding an extra splash of the firewhisky to each one.

Hermione cast a silencing charm so the sound of laughter wouldn't disturb others down the hall. They decided to get more comfortable and lounge on the cushions on Hermione's daybed, necessitating Hermione carefully pushing her vibrator behind the bed where it hit the floor with a rubbery thump.

The bed was enlarged to make it deeper so the three could fit comfortably with their legs up on the bed. At this point, Hermione began mixing the drinks, with the portion of liquor exceeding the portion of soda. Draco was leaning back against the pillows with his arm around Anita who was resting against his chest. Hermione was draped across the pillows at the other end of the bed.

"Cute pajamas, Hermione," said Draco, "Whoever knew you were into ducks?

"I'm not," sighed Hermione. "When your two best friends are guys who still think of you as being somewhere around twelve years old, you end up with flannel pajamas with ducks on them for Christmas. I'm surprised they didn't have the feet built in."

"And a trap door in the back," giggled Anita.

"Which one?" asked Draco, snickering.

"Harry."

"I knew it," said Draco triumphantly. "I knew he had no taste. Everyone knows you like pajamas with cats on them."

The three descended into inebriated giggles.

"Ron gave me matching ducky slippers."

Which led to belly laughs.

"Crookshanks is very fond of sleeping with them. He tends to drag them around. They've been relegated to the cat toy basket." Hermione took her wand and pointed it at the basket, levitating it to her. She reached in and pulled out one fuzzy duck slipper that appeared to have had an eye chewed off. "See what I mean?"

"Anybody ready for a refill?" asked Draco.

A chorus of "Me!" was followed by the sound of drinks being poured.

"This is really really good, Draco. You are the Drinks Master," praised Hermione, slugging it back.

"Maybe we ought to slow down," suggested Anita.

"Is the bottle almost empty?" asked Hermione sadly.

Draco eyed the _Tea with Ginseng_ bottle. "We've got about two drinks each left in it. I have another bottle back in my room."

Anita smiled at him. "I just love a man who enjoys a good health drink."

"You two are so damn lucky," muttered Hermione.

Draco handed the refilled drinks around and climbed back onto the bed where Anita curled around him.

"I am lucky and I'd like to think I'm smart enough to know it," he said, stroking Anita's hair. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Please tell me you understand that things just weren't working out with me and Adam?" pleaded Hermione.

"I know that," said Anita. "You're both nice people just not made for each other. I hoped things would work out between you, but you're a lot more grown up than he is."

"Is that what's bothering you, Hermione?" asked Draco.

Hermione went to rest her chin on her hand and missed. She giggled.

"I think I'm drunk."

"I think we're all drunk."

"I have bad timing," Hermione mused. "The guys I can have, I don't want. The one I want, I can't have. Really bad timing."

"Who is he? Maybe we can help you get him," said Draco in all inebriated seriousness.

Hermione started to giggle. She could just imagine Draco Malfoy playing matchmaker between her and Professor Snape. Hermione was laughing so hard; she almost fell out of the bed.

"If you're laughing that hard, it has to be someone I know," said Draco. "Okay, let me run down the list. I know it isn't Potter or Weasley. Is it someone from Gryffindor? No, it can't be. If it was someone from Gryffindor, you could have had a shot at him while you were still at Hogwarts. So it's got to be someone from outside of Gryffindor."

"Oh Draco, there's no point in playing twenty questions. I'm not going to tell you or give you hints. He's not interested in me and that's all there is to it." Hermione got up and emptied the bottle of firewhisky into her glass. She dropped in an ice cube and took a sip. "This is really good, even straight."

"Smooth is how they describe it," said Draco.

"Smooth. A really good word," Hermione mumbled, thinking about Severus' voice. "I don't think I really knew him at all until after my parents died. I only knew the image, not the person. He talked to me one night and understood what I was going through."

She took another drink. "I've got to spend time with him since then. He's brilliant and interesting. He's the most fascinating man I've ever meant. I can spend hours with him and never get bored, never have to pretend I'm interested in what he's saying. He's perfect. Well, no, he's not perfect. But he could be perfect for me." Hermione emptied her glass and set it down on the table.

"All he sees is the student, a girl." She yawned. "I think it's all he wants to see."

Hermione pulled the pillow up, wrapping her arms around it and laying her head down. "If he knew, he'd laugh at me. Say it was inappropriate," Hermione murmured sleepily. "I wish he could see it, give me a chance. Could love him if he'd give me a chance…" Soft sounds of breathing followed.

Draco and Anita waited, watching Hermione doze at the other end of the bed. They waited a few minutes and climbed off of the bed. Anita pulled the blankets over her and nodded to Draco. He opened the door to their shared bathroom and extinguished the lights. Anita walked ahead of him and he shut Hermione's door behind him. Anita opened the door into her room and switched on the lights to dim.

"So that's why she's been unhappy lately," said Anita, "She's got a bad case of unrequited love with someone back home."

"It does explain a lot," said Draco, taking off his dressing gown. Underneath, he wore loose sleeping pants and a tank top. "She really liked Adam and I think she tried to make it work with him, but her heart wasn't in it. Merlin's beard, I'm sounding like an agony aunt."

"Okay," laughed Anita, "What's an agony aunt?"

"Someone you tell your troubles to, like one of those advice columns in the newspaper," answered Draco. "Who is it that Hermione would think is so impossible?"

"She said she didn't really know him until after her parents died and that she's spent a lot of time with him since. Could it be one of the Weasleys? She's been living with them when she's not here."

"That makes sense," said Draco, excited. "It's got to be one of the Weasleys. We know it isn't her friend Ron, so it would have to be one of the four older brothers. It couldn't be George or Fred, the twins who own a joke shop on Diagon Alley. They are clever bastards, but I can't picture Hermione pining after one of them. That leaves Charlie or Bill."

Draco looked at Anita, surprise on his face. "Merlin's balls, it's got to be Professor Weasley. It couldn't be Charlie. He works with dragons and just wouldn't be smart enough for Hermione."

"_Professor_ Weasley?"

"The oldest brother, Bill. He's the one I had the duel with when I tore up my knee, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Draco sat down on the bed. "No wonder she said he'd say it was inappropriate. He's a teacher, even if he we only had him as a teacher for six months. Plus, she's the age of his youngest brother."

Draco frowned. "He really is brilliant. He was a curse breaker for Gringotts in Egypt before he came to Hogwarts. I think he has a Charms Mastery. Imagine breaking through four thousand year old curses." Draco shook his head, "Poor Hermione."

"Why do you say that?"

"Hermione's pretty enough when she fixes herself up, and I'll grant you she's been trying since she got out of Hogwarts, but Bill Weasley's got exotic tastes. And he's good looking, great personality and all that. I think he beat out Gilderoy Lockhart's record for having the most Hogwarts students with crushes. Last I heard he was dating the part Veela who competed a few years ago in the Tri-Wizarding Tournament for Beauxbatons. Hermione is anything but exotic. She's brilliant, has an encyclopedia for a brain, and is kind-hearted to a fault, but she's not competition for a Veela."

"You really think there isn't a chance for her with him?"

"Not unless he's going to look past the surface and go for character and intelligence, which he doesn't seem to have done so far." Draco shook his head. "It's a shame because Hermione has a lot to offer. Besides, Professor Weasley might look at her and see sister material rather than someone he wants to shag."

Anita straightened the blankets on the bed and fixed the pillows. She climbed in and scooted over to make room for Draco.

"I can see that. Hermione kind of inspires everybody to see her as a sister or a friend, but not exactly a hot babe."

"Fortunately for me, I have a hot babe right here."

"A hot babe who will feel much hotter in the morning. I hope one of us has hangover potion."

"I'll bet Hermione will. If she doesn't drink it all herself, we can probably count on her to share. We're all going to need it in the morning."

Anita brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes.

"I'm a very lucky girl."

"Yes, you are."

Laughing and snuggling ensued.

-------------------------

Author's note:

Arefacio Caesaries: Make hair dry (I think)

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The controversy over Fahrenheit, Celsius, and Kelvin temperature scales has continued. Julia, Brit Picker extraordinaire, has come up with the definitive piece of evidence that the British wizarding world is very unlikely to have gone metric:

_"Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle"_

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A few readers have expressed frustration at the amount of time it is taking for Severus and Hermione to get together. Others are pleased that their romance is evolving in a realistic way. To anyone who has an opinion one way or the other, think of this as the longest foreplay in the history of fanfiction.

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I haven't even begun to tackle responses to reviews. I'm still writing thank-you notes to the people who brought over casseroles and snickerdoodles before the funeral. I very much appreciate everyone who has taken the time to review or send an e-mail. At some point when things get into more of a routine where we're not sorting through clothes, filling out forms, and managing a myriad of details, I will try to get back to everybody. Thank you.


	41. Chapter 41

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia for finding time to make recommendations on this chapter in spite of everything else going on in her life. Julia is doing something right now that is wonderful, remarkable, and exciting. She has worked towards this for a long time and it is a rare accomplishment and one for which she deserves all our admiration. It isn't my place to tell you what it is, but it is a reflection of the kind of generous and caring person she is. She deserves a standing ovation from all of us and our prayers to speed her on her new journey!

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Erm, a bit of warning here. Hermione is not the only one indulging in fantasies. Skip the last section if you are uncomfortable reading about such things.

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Severus

December 20, 1998

Severus looked around the cellar lab for the number four silver cauldron. He had used it a few weeks ago to rehydrate some dried erumpet tendons and could have sworn that he had put it back in its place on the cauldron rack. He would have to assign Hermione to go through everything and put things back where they belonged. No one else was supposed to be working on projects here, but he would not be surprised if others in the Order rummaged around down here in his absence.

They had best not be using it as a cooking pot and if Mundungus Fletcher had been in here scavenging, it would be his tendons in the cauldron next.

The potion forms of Crucio were difficult and dangerous enough to make under the best of conditions. Severus did not wish to use substitute equipment for making something that could inflict a good deal of pain. He needed the silver cauldron to simmer the teleos toadstool essence and the powdered asp tongue for one of the Crucio potions they were going to prepare later in the week. He hated to Accio a cauldron just to find it. That was a perfect way to get hit in the head by something large, round, and metallic. If Hermione could not find it, he would have to borrow one from Hogwarts. And then go hunt for Mundungus Fletcher.

Hermione should be arriving soon. Arthur had called in during the morning for a meeting with Remus. He had mentioned that Hermione had arrived home yesterday, looking completely worn out. She had attributed her exhaustion to late night studying for final examinations. Arthur seemed unconvinced that it was the only reason Hermione was tired.

At the beginning of December, Severus had been out to the cemetery and found Hermione's parents' graves. Arthur's directions were easy enough to follow and the cemetery was pleasant enough, as such things go. Located far out in the country next to a church, no one was likely to see anybody apparating in or out.

The graves had been in the condition he expected, well cared for with a silk flower wreath on each grave. Using hair he had collected from the snood that fell from Hermione's backpack, he worked on the two wreaths to turn them into specialized portkeys. They would be triggered only by Hermione's touch, and then only if the subtle wards Severus placed around the graves indicated that she was alone. It required a good deal more foolish wand waving than Severus typically liked to indulge in, but very necessary. He only wanted to lock Hermione in the cellar, not Hermione and Weasley or Potter. Besides, Potter might be able to blast his way out.

He was not entirely certain what he would do if the portkey were triggered. Hermione would be transported here to the cellar laboratory and would be unable to leave until he personally released the automatic wards. He anticipated she would be furious. Hermione would not hesitate to express her anger as she had done in November when she threatened to hex him if he ridiculed her for being a virgin.

Getting her here and knowing what to do with her once she arrived were two very different things. If she was visiting the cemetery alone out of some sense of guilt over the murder of her parents, she was placing herself in unnecessary danger. At the same time, Severus could understand how guilt could cause an individual to do things that made no sense. The list of things he did to express his anger and guilt was as long as his arm.

Perhaps that is what he could do. He could talk to Hermione about the choices he made and where they led him all those years ago. That might be the most effective way to make her understand why she had to stop doing something that could ultimately prove to be self-destructive.

Not that Hermione would go in the directions he did. She did not teeter on the edge between Dark and Light in the way he had most of his life. For reasons he did not fully understand, it mattered to him that she end up well and whole at the end of all of this.

Severus sat at the lab table and opened the old tattered book, _Difficilis Mortigena_, Difficult Death. The cover was made of leather from a source he preferred not to consider. To say this was a Dark text was an understatement. He did not intend for Hermione to touch it, though he would permit her to read what was written in it about the Cruciatus potions. Reviewing the directions, he heard the light footfalls on the stairway that signaled Hermione's arrival.

"Good morning, Professor. How are you?" she asked.

"I am reasonably well. And yourself, Hermione?" Arthur was right; Hermione did look tired with dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm fine. I'm glad final exams are done with. I never feel like I've prepared enough. Thank Merlin, I'm done with calculus." Hermione took off her winter jacket and dropped her backpack onto the rickety chair in the corner. "It's nice to have two weeks off. It will give me time to get a head start on my textbooks for next term."

"Have you no plans to do things that are _fun_?" inquired Severus.

"I am having tea with Minerva at Hogwarts on Tuesday, Christmas at the Burrow on Friday, working with you and seeing other friends, too. It feels like a very good holiday to me."

"And Messers Weasley and Potter?"

"The joy of being at the bottom of the Auror totem pole," said Hermione, "they'll be on duty Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day."

"My sympathies on your loss for the holidays," he said dryly.

"And what do Potions Masters do over school holidays?" asked Hermione.

"Research, read, and sleep, not necessarily in that order." He hoped Hermione would not ask what he did on Christmas Day. His plan to enjoy 50-year-old firewhisky and read in front of the fireplace might sound…. lonely. He did not care to have anyone's pity.

"Sounds heavenly," mused Hermione. "Peace and quiet and a chance to get some work done without dozens of interruptions."

Now that was a surprising response. Severus could not imagine a woman of Hermione's age wanting to spend a holiday working.

"I don't know about you, but I find I need time when I can be alone. I enjoy being around my friends and attending classes, but if I don't get _alone time_, I start to get stressed out," Hemione admitted. "It's as if being around too many people for too long saps the energy right out of me." She pulled up a lab stool and sat across from Severus at the table.

Severus considered what she had just said. Hermione could have been describing him.

"I find myself needing time away from others in much the same way as you describe," he replied. "It is probably one of the reasons I chose to live in the dungeons near my laboratory rather than in the tower in the teacher's quarters. A full day of classes and dealing with the dunderheads tends to use up my tolerance for being around people and then Albus wonders why I might be irritable during staff meetings or unsociable in the evening."

"Some people re-energize by being alone," said Hermione. "Extroverts like the Headmaster and any of the Weasleys don't understand that for introverts, the world inside our heads is as real or more real than the external world. That's why I would always escape to the library when I was at Hogwarts. Classes all day, sharing a dorm room with other girls, having dinner with several hundred other people in the Great Hall got to be a bit much. The library was a refuge not just because I wanted to study, it was also a chance to be alone. When my head's in a book, I can lose myself in it. That's almost as good as being alone."

Hermione looked at him curiously, resting her chin on her hand. "On a scale of one to ten, where one is a sequestered contemplative hermit monk with a vow of silence and ten is Gilderoy Lockhart, I would probably rate myself somewhere between two and half and three. Where would do you think you would fit?"

Severus was surprised by the depth of her question. Could Hermione really be that interested in his personality? And what would be a correct answer to her question? His need for solitude tended to vary depending on how difficult life was at any given time.

"In my case, I believe my need to behave like a hermit depends on how much stress I am under. Most of the time, I would describe myself as a two to two and a half. Under stress, I probably revert to about a one and a half," he answered thoughtfully, "A very irritable one and a half with no vow of silence."

"It's that time alone thing," reiterated Hermione. "I think I've encountered you once or twice in one of those irritable moods," she teased. "I might feel irritable, but I don't think I express it. I think I'm more inclined to withdraw and become very quiet."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Does expressing irritability relieve some of the tension or is that a way to get people to leave you alone?" Hermione shook her head. "I apologize, that was quite personal and I had no right to ask."

"It was personal and you had no right to ask, but I believe the true answer would be that it serves both purposes," smirked Severus. "I find it satisfying to take out my irritation on certain others or occasionally on everyone within verbal striking range. It also results in people keeping their distance. Two happy results from one technique."

"I don't think I could pull it off nearly as well as you do," she smiled.

"No, you could not. You are too nice and would need considerable practice before anyone would believe you."

Severus stood and flipped the textaround so Hermione could read it.

"Do not touch this book. You may read what is written on this page, but do not touch any of the pages. The book is spelled to make a record of the magical signature of anyone who touches it and can reveal it a manner similar to that of the use of Priori Incantato on a wand. I can make the argument of having a need to know the contents, but you cannot."

"What book is this, sir?" asked Hermione, switching into apprentice mode.

"You have probably heard of it, _Difficilis Mortigena._ It is a Dark text by any definition and private ownership of a copy of it is illegal. I do not own this copy and have borrowed it from a source I will not name."

"I have read about it," said Hermione in wonder, "It's the definitive book of magical poisons, written in the sixteenth century by Lucrezia Borgia."

"The translation charm will allow you to read this page."

"It's the directions for creating a topical potion for _excruciating pain_." Hermione looked up at Severus, her eyes wide. "She recommends it highly for use in the torture of political prisoners."

Hermione shook her head. "I knew at an intellectual level such things existed, but actually to have the directions in front of me along with an endorsement for the potion's effectiveness is somewhere in between amazing and terrifying. Borgia actually _used _these things."

"She not only used these things," lectured Severus, expanding on the topic, "She invented some of the potions she writes about and refined several of them to make them more effective or less detectible."

"The Borgias were an old Spanish wizarding family even then," he continued. "They are one of the reasons the secrecy laws were created and the wizarding world separated from the Muggle world. They abused their magical abilities and knowledge to make themselves powerful in the Muggle political arena. In the best-known generation, the father became Pope Alexander VI and made his son Cesare a cardinal. Both father and son functioned as a despots. Lucrezia was married to an assortment of Muggle nobles who were used and cast off when they became inconvenient. She probably experimented on her husbands when they wanted to be rid of them. The Borgias came very close to flaunting their abilities in a highly public way that ultimately endangered the whole wizarding population."

"This brings us back to the potion, which would now be called a liquid Crucio," directed Severus, "What are the most significant ingredients here?" Severus began setting up the lab table for brewing.

"I would say half of these ingredients are more or less carriers or enhancers. The most important ingredients are:

Acromantula venom

Teleos toadstool essence

Miniature Swedish short snout dragon firebladder extract

Centaur hoof shavings

Mercuric Chloride

Green vitriol

Fulminating silver

Mordon scales"

"How are these ingredients classified?"

"Fuliminating silver is a class one ingredient, mercuric chloride, green vitriol, toadstool essence, and firebladder extract are class two restricted, and the venom and mordon scales are class three restricted, and the centaur hoof shavings are class four restricted." recited Hermione from memory.

"The centaur hoof shavings are illegal for even a Potions Master to own, which is one of the reasons you are not going to participate in the preparation of this potion. Centaurs generally do not, of their own free will, give up shavings from their hooves to humans."

Severus shook his head and continued. "These shavings were given to me last year by Professor Firenze who said I would need them."

"How strange," wondered Hermione, "I don't usually place much faith in divination. He must have foreseen the need."

"I must assume so," said Severus. "The only potions which utilize acromantula venom and mordon scales are Dark potions. The firebladder extract and toadstool essence are unusual ingredients. They are used in a few veterinary potions made for magical creatures, but I cannot recall seeing them in a potion intended for a human before."

Using a long tweezer, Severus removed some mordon scales from a glass jar and placed them in a marble mortar for grinding. He picked up the pestle and began carefully pulverizing them into a fine powder. Severus' hands went through the motions efficiently and smoothly, the habit well ingrained.

"This version is a topical potion which should have the consistency of an ointment when it is completed," he lectured. "The text shows it was applied to the skin and the Crucio sensation started locally and then spread through the body, which indicates that it is absorbed through the skin and travels through the bloodstream and into the central nervous system."

Hermione scanned through the page to a reference she had seen earlier. "Borgia describes it as being highly effective in torture because the victim knew the pain started in a small spot on the surface of the skin and then spread throughout the body. It sounds like she appreciated the psychological effect."

Severus poured the powdered scales into a small marble bowl. Taking more from the jar, the process began again. He continued to talk as he worked.

"The potion calls for manticore urine as the base liquid. When I have the other ingredients prepared for brewing, it will be necessary to use a bubblehead charm and to wear protective clothing and charmed gloves. Why would this be?" he asked.

"When heated to boiling, manticore urine gives off a gas which can sear the lining of the lungs if inhaled," answered Hermione, "thus necessitating the bubblehead charm. Concentrated acromantula venom is highly caustic and it is standard precaution to wear protective gear when handling it."

And so the work and questioning continued. Severus processed ingredients, one at a time. He demonstrated their handling and preparation, asking Hermione questions about their uses, giving detailed explanations about safety considerations, and physiological effects.

When it was time to brew the potion, both donned protective gear and established the bubblehead charms for protection. The door to the basement was warded and Hermione's handwritten sign warned everyone to stay out, caustic potion in progress.

Once again, Severus found adult Hermione far preferable to the juvenile version.

The juvenile would have given answers with mind-numbing excessive detail.

The juvenile would have asked question after question after question.

The juvenile would have somehow gotten her hair in the potion.

The adult knew how to give an answer concisely.

The adult knew how to observe silently and ask insightful questions.

The adult had pretty hair, neatly pulled back into the very practical snood.

The adult Hermione looked very nice indeed. Of course she was wearing the protective overrobe and a bubblehead charm right now, just as he was. The pair of them presented a rather bizarre image. But underneath, Hermione was wearing dark green trousers and a soft green long sleeved top. The fine knit fabric top clung to her form. Not yet twenty, Hermione's breasts would be firm.

'Stop it,' Severus thought, ordering himself to cease thinking about Hermione Granger's breasts and get his mind back to the dangerous potion he was making.

She had taken to wearing smart trousers since leaving Hogwarts. She wore her tops tucked in and belted her slacks, showing a neat waist and nicely proportioned hips.

'Stop it, Snape,' demanded Severus inside his own head. The fact that he could rest one hand at her waist while the other stroked her hip was irrelevant.

When she had worn her uniform skirts at Hogwarts, she had tended to wear them below the knee, but what he had seen was shapely.

'Pay attention to what you are doing,' he shouted in his mind. How smooth was the skin along her calf? Would the skin at the back of her knee taste of a little bit of salt? Would she shudder if he sucked at it and licked it?

Would she get wet?

Severus felt an alarming tightening at his groin.

He had to stop. This line of thought was completely inappropriate.

Thank Merlin, he was on the opposite side of the table from her. Thank the Lady of the Lake, he was hidden from the waist down.

'What the hell is wrong with me? I am having sexual thoughts about Hermione while she is standing right here and I am working on a dangerous potion. It is a year since I have been with a woman. Perhaps that is what is wrong with me. I am in need of a trip to Knockturn Alley, or at least a recreational visit to my bath.'

'Focus, Snape. Get your mind out of the gutter and your attention back to the work in front of you.' Severus took a deep calming breath and brought his attention back to the task at hand.

"Step back from the table, Hermione, but watch carefully as I add the firebladder extract." He added the last ingredient. The potion, at the bottom of a number twelve cauldron for safety, did a flambé imitation that would have put Crepes Suzette to shame and made Neville Longbottom proud.

Severus smirked at Hermione as she jumped back, startled by the intensity of the potion's reaction. A miniature mushroom cloud issued from the cauldron and dispersed slowly across the ceiling. Severus leaned over the cauldron and looked. The potion needed to be stirred. He took the stainless steel stirring rod (a personal improvement over Lucrezia's choice of a sword blade) and gave the potion nine vigorous stirs, reversing directions after each third stroke. The potion was thick, gummy, and green.

"Come and look," he instructed.

Hermione approached the cauldron as if it were full of acromantulas, which was a wise precaution to take given what was actually in the cauldron. She looked over the lip.

"It matches Borgia's description," observed Hermione.

"And should be just as excruciating," commented Severus. "It will take half an hour for the ointment to cool." He picked up his wand and began to murmur the spells required to clear the air of the noxious fumes and gases. The grayish green haze that had spread around the room began to fade.

"I recall the laboratories at Avalon have special magical shielding to provide containment for dangerous gases. According to Professor Ben Ari, when you are a more advanced student, you will have the opportunity to learn more about them. I would appreciate it if you would share your knowledge of how they are constructed. I can think of a few places I would like to install them."

"Neville Longbottom could have walked around in a bubble of it and kept all of us safer," laughed Hermione.

"I understand from Professor Sprout he is doing quite well at Green Hills Nursery," commented Severus.

"He's meeting up with a group of us for dinner on Wednesday. Last time I spoke to him, he said they had him working in the greenhouses with the magical plants. His boss complimented him on having a knack with mandrakes." Hermione reached for some of the cutting implements. "May I at least help with cleaning up?"

"Yes," answered Severus dryly. "It is unlikely a licensing board will ask if you ever helped with cleaning up after the making of an Unforgiveable potion."

The two worked quietly, clearing the lab table, cleaning the tools and cauldrons, and putting things away. In one half hour, they were ready to move the Cruciatus ointment into a jar.

"A potion with so many caustic ingredients requires special storage," instructed Severus. "The acromantula venom and firebladder extract will interact with almost any kind of container and eat through it, given time. To prevent this, we will use charmed glass." Severus reached into a cabinet and withdrew a cobalt glass jar. "Notice that even the lid is glass." Severus handed Hermione the jar. She held it up to the light.

"I'm surprised the glass is so thin. I would have thought it would be thick, chunky." Hermione lifted the lid off. "The lid isn't very secure."

"That is the reason for the charm," explained Severus, "The spells that make this a safe and secure container for highly caustic magical potions are built right into the glass, but require the glass be thin. The lid is designed to fit around the top of the jar so that it can be lifted off when the charm is released without the risk of drawing the contents out with it. The jar itself is tip-proof and spill-proof. When the lid is placed on the jar, it seals in the contents. The lid is only released with the password."

"Remarkable," commented Hermione. "Who makes these?"

"A family of Viennese glass makers called Essenbracht, a wizarding family who have passed the art down through the generations. They make exquisite magical glass pieces including stained glass. Their container business is a small sideline for them, but I suspect quite profitable given the cost of a single jar."

Severus took the jar and set it down beside the cauldron. He instructed Hermione to stand back while he pulled on his protective gloves. Using a charmed flat glass spatula, he scooped the ointment into the jar. When it was full, he placed the lid on top.

"Anything short of dropping and smashing this jar will keep it closed. For that reason, another charm is built in which will levitate the jar if dropped." Severus activated all of the charms and set the jar down. "The cauldron cannot be safely cleaned and reused, even with magic. There is a special disposal unit back at Hogwarts I will use to destroy it. To transport it back, I will reduce it and place it in a secured box. The whole thing will be destroyed." Severus reduced the cauldron, sealing it with an assortment of charms and placing it in a securing box.

"After we complete our experiments with the Cruciatus potions, I will see if I can use a pretext to get you to Hogwarts. I would like to show you how to destroy dangerous potions and ingredients. It is unlikely you will have the opportunity to learn this in college until you are in your Fourth Year."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione, "How does the disposal unit work?"

"It is much easier to demonstrate it than to explain it without having it in front of you." Severus looked around the lab, checking for anything that still needed to be done. "I believe we are finished." He picked up the blue jar and added a label with his spiked writing on it. He placed it inside a charmed cabinet and sealed it.

"I am due back at Hogwarts for dinner," mentioned Severus. "Tonight, I am responsible for the students who are remaining at Hogwarts for the holiday. I will be on duty all day on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Christmas Day. If you are available, we can work on the two remaining Cruciatus potions tomorrow and Thursday."

"Of course, Severus. I've learned a lot today watching you work on this one. Though, I can't let anyone know I've seen this level of potions making," said Hermione.

"It would be difficult to explain to your professors." Severus levitated the box with the cauldron in front of him. "Please go ahead of me, Hermione."

Hermione picked up her coat and backpack and started up the stairs. She opened the door and walked ahead of Severus. Seeing Remus in the kitchen, she warned him to stay back as Severus brought the box into the room. He set it on the table while he put on his cloak.

"The first of the Cruciatus potions is finished, Remus," said Severus. "It is secured in a charmed jar within the warded cabinet, so it is quite safe. Hermione and I will be back tomorrow and on the 24th to finish the other two potions."

"Sounds like today was productive," said Remus.

"It was," said Hermione with a smile, "Severus is showing me how to make illegal potions."

"Nobody is better qualified," teased Remus.

"Sadly," admitted Severus, "You are probably correct given my misspent youth. However, as interesting as it might be to travel down memory lane, I need to get this contaminated cauldron back to Hogwarts for disposal." Severus levitated the box.

"I'll be in and out all week," said Remus. "I believe Harry and Ron managed to get Wednesday off."

"Yes," said Hermione. "We're meeting up with some of our classmates in Diagon Alley for dinner."

"Sounds like a busy week," remarked Remus. "I am planning a get together here for New Years Eve if you two are free."

"That sounds like fun," said Hermione, "I'll plan on it."

Severus noticed that Hermione was looking at him hopefully.

"I may be able to attend if I do not have to supervise the students that evening," he answered, wondering if there was any significance to the way she was looking at him.

"I'll plan on both of you anyway. There'll be plenty of food," said Remus.

"I will see you tomorrow afternoon, Hermione," said Severus as he levitated the box out the door.

"Thank you for inviting Severus," said Hermione, "He isolates himself so much and I don't think he believes general invitations include him."

"I think you're right about that," observed Remus. "I also think you're a good influence on him. You bring him out of himself. He seems comfortable around you."

"Does he?" Hermione seemed hesitant. "It is hard to read him, but he talks more than he did when we first started working together."

"Give him time," suggested Remus. "What I find surprising is that he seems to trust you and he doesn't trust many people."

"I hope he does," said Hermione pensively. "I'd pretty much trust him with my life."

"We all have."

"I'd better get going. Molly gets annoyed if we're late for dinner."

"See you tomorrow, then."

-----------------

The day had gone very well. Severus had hoped to get the first of the Crucio potions completed without mishap. He wanted to stay on schedule and utilize Hermione's assistance with animal tests that would begin the after Christmas. Further refinements of the Crucio treatment needed to be tested.

The next two weeks would be busy in spite of the students being gone and no classes to teach. On the Tuesday after Christmas, Lucius and Albus would meet. Severus had made the arrangements to portkey Lucius and himself to a safe location in the middle of nowhere. Albus would join them and discussions could begin. Severus wanted the negotiations to end successfully, giving the Order another spy within the Death Eaters. The key would be whether Lucius could use his skills as an Occlumens sufficiently to convince Albus he could keep the Dark Lord out of his head.

As for tonight, there was every reason to believe his duties would be light. He and Professor Sinistra had taken dinner with the half dozen students who were staying over the holidays. Now that Potter had left school, there were no Gryffindors among them. There were three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, and one Slytherin. The Fifth Year Slytherin girl was a good friend with two of the Ravenclaws and a sleepover in Ravenclaw Tower had been approved. Severus had taken the first patrol, making sure all students were accounted for in their Houses and set the night wards. If anyone strayed, an alarm would sound in his rooms. Argus Filch was scheduled to take the next patrol and Sinistra after that.

Severus decided it would be the satisfying end to a successful day would be to take a nice long bath, one of his favorite recreations. It had been a while and he was feeling the need to relieve some personal tension. Given his very physical reaction to thinking about Hermione this afternoon, he felt it was wise to do something about it before he embarrassed himself.

Severus carried his glass of Ogden's Bronze Reserve into the bathroom and set it beside the deep tub. He lowered the light from the sconces to a flickering candlelight level. One layer at a time, Severus stripped out of his clothing and allowed the fantasy building in his mind to develop. She was already naked, waiting for him in the bathroom. In his mind, it was her hands slowly undressing him, serving him, silently caressing him.

Severus stepped into the bath, comfortably warm, and walked to the deepest part of the tub. Months before, he had transfigured the tub to include jets of water like the ones in the tub in the hotel in Chicago. The jets were positioned just right to hit him exactly where they would do the most good. He positioned himself so his back was against the tub, his arms stretched out and resting on the edge of the tub. Splaying his legs slightly, the water from the jets streamed against the back of his balls.

Oh, yes. In his mind, it was her hands reaching from behind him to caress him. Her small delicate hands were moving against his sacs as her breasts pressed against his back. He could hear her voice whispering softly behind him, describing what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her. He could feel her lips against his back, against his shoulders, moving up to his neck. She was begging him to turn around, begging to him to let her….

He was erect now. The spell he had created to control the jets of water was taking him to the next phase. He turned around, imagining her before him. She moved close to him, her lips against his chest tracing a line to his nipple. She nipped and licked and sucked as the water from the jets caressed his cock.

In his mind, it was her hand, that small feminine hand wrapping itself around his cock.

Severus moaned at the image of her in his fantasy as the magical jets of water pulsed around his length, swirling against his balls. It was her hand, that beautiful hand moving up and down against him, it was her voice.

"Severus, please let me… I know how big you are, but I can do it….I can take all of you in my mouth….please let me try….I want to taste you….only you."

His cock twitched as his right hand wrapped around it, his hand was her hand, moving….stroking…..caressing. The pleasure building, more intense. He was moaning now, or was she moaning?

'I will let you,' Severus thought. 'Only you, my sweet. Only you." Her hand moved faster and the jets of water pulsed harder, faster, stronger against his balls, his cock. It was her mouth, her tongue. She was licking and tongueing his tip. He was so close now, close, feeling, wanting, needing, do it now, take me in your mouth, let me feel your tongue, use your mouth, oh sucking, more, so sweet….

"Aaaaaaaaaagh."

One long exhale and several deep breaths later, Severus turned around and moved back across the tub. He ducked his head under the water and came back up, his hair flowing back away from his face.

"Oh, that was a good one."

He reached over and retrieved the firewhisky. He took a deep drink and sighed.

"It is not going to help keep things under control if I keep fantasizing about Hermione this way."

---------------

To my frustrated readers: The first kiss is coming. Won't tell you when. Won't tell you where. You already know who and pretty much know why.

Many thanks to all my reviewers. I did start replying Tuesday night. This is going to take weeks! The expressions of sympathy and the prayers mean and lot and help more than you realize. Thanks to: Laura, Shirlyn, MollysSister, SweetSweetIrony, Lettybird, Rinny08, Lady Rhian, Siren 34, Aldara, Darth Vengeance, Silenthavens, Evilmastermind666, Skyblueheaven, Jocemum, Green-Eyed-Angel, Mugglemomof3, Arime Setta, Soul Chaser, SMALL Whitelies, Zafaran, Severus-Fan, Nebrets, TheBeautifulPadmeAmidala, Bakaonigirii, Sevs A Hottie, Muggle-to-the-Max, Duj, Droxy, Phoenixflight, RunWild, Pineapplecookies, Jinxd n cursed, Badbugz, Silverbutterfly, SltherinTwinCC, Latinachikita, HPWylie, Princessfiona, Me613, Angel Tears 16, Ash, KarenDetroit, Notwritten, Annie, Aoiichan, Doodles-Divine, Hermione2.0, HumbugGirl, SG Fan, Flowerpagoda, Excessivelyperky, Yuny, Megan Consoer, Nativewoman29, Confusedpink, Darquehart, MiaRose, Tranquility

I did start to do a little writing again this week. For the last four weeks, Julia (bless her heart) would send me the chapters she'd done and I'd fix them to post, but that was it. I did do some work on the chapter in progress when Real Life interrupted. It felt _normal_. For the first time in weeks, things are starting to feel normal – a new normal, but normal all the same. It feels good.


	42. Chapter 42

This is the place where the author has to make a confession. I believe, gentle reader, you already know that this story is Hypnobarb's great experiment. After decades of writing social work reports, program evaluation, agency policies and procedures, and non-fiction pieces, I started writing this story just to see if I could. I had a few ideas for a story and wanted to try them out. I honestly didn't know if I would ever post it anywhere. So, I experimented with a lot of different things. Many of you have commented that my writing has improved the further we progress into the story.

Erm, I started experimenting again when I wrote this chapter last autumn and the ones that follow. As I wrote, I found what was going on in Severus and Hermione's heads fascinating. What they thought, their perspective on events going on around them, their direct points of view truly captured my imagination.

So, I did something that might cause literature instructors and real fiction authors to cringeand send me to the author's naughty chair with a stern lecture ringing in my ears.

I changed points of view. Depending on the chapter, if it is primarily about Severus, it is written from his point of view. The other chapters are from Hermione's point of view.

Julia and Amrun have been kind about the whole thing. There are some chapters later one that are much more effective because they are told from the world behind Severus or Hermione's eyes. There are some very important chapters that couldn't be done any other way. I hope you'll give it a couple of chapters before you decide. I accept honest feedback, though tactful is nice.

This is not Julia or Amrun's fault. If it is more authentic or grammatically correct, it is to their credit. Otherwise, all the mistakes are mine.

------------------

Hermione

December 24th, 1998

The Burrow is a different place when it is quiet. I can sit at my bedroom window overlooking the garden and watch the world go by. It has been a while since I've been able to do that. Things are slower in the winter.

It's cold, but there's no snow so Crookshanks is happily stalking the gnome who keeps poking his head out of his bolthole. I see a couple of sparrows pecking at birdseed beneath the feeder. The sun rose about fifty minutes ago and the frost on grass and the leafless plants looks like a thin layer of glitter in the sunlight. If I sit close enough, my breath leaves a thin layer of frost on the window.

I am more relaxed now than I have been in months. Perhaps trying to deal with so many changes in my life all at one time was more stressful than I realized. Term ended on the 18th after a solid week of examinations. How different college turned out to be compared to my expectations. I thought final exams would be like NEWTS and that term papers would be like a thesis.

In reality, final exams were no more difficult than end of term exams at Hogwarts. My term papers were no more difficult than the essays I used to write multiple times a week for Hogwarts. The quality of my education at Hogwarts left me better prepared for college than the majority of the other first year students.

I was surprised at how Warren and Anita struggled with term papers, which came so easily for me. I suppose writing two to three foot essays every other night gave me sufficient practice to get good at it. With the additional convenience of using word processing for writing, I can produce a term paper in half the time of most other students. Even Draco has commented about how the American students are unaccustomed to writing essays.

My attention returns to the here and now and I chuckle quietly to myself. Crookshanks has landed a bite on the gnome's rear end before it dives into the hole. Crooks is crouched at the entrance to the bolt hole, waiting for the gnome to make an appearance so he can pounce. He is so still and patient, one would think he was really the statue of a cat.

My classes in the Muggle sciences and maths were actually more difficult and more interesting than potions or history. I'm thankful Severus invited me to assist with his research projects and the Wolfsbane, or I'd have been bored silly the last few months.

I've been spending my extra time studying ahead in chemistry and getting into human physiology. Starting college as a second semester freshman put me out of sync with my classmates. By taking so many Muggle classes during my first semester, I am catching up with the sophomores. Next semester, Professor Boch is going to allow me to take Potions 201 as an independent study and take Potions 202 concurrently. He says they've never allowed that before, but according to my records from Hogwarts and a curriculum that Severus sent him, everything they've made or studied in 201, I did during Sixth or Seventh Year. I'll be in Potions classes with second semester sophomores. In addition to the two Potions classes, I'll be taking Quantum Physics, Chemistry 102, and Charms 102. I'll share physics and charms with Warren, Anita and Draco.

Warren was green with envy when he found out I'd be skipping ahead in the Potions classes.

It was so strange visiting Hogwarts as a former pupil. Being the holidays, there were hardly any students about. I saw only three and they were playing a card game in the Great Hall. The room was beautifully decorated with tall Christmas trees aglow with glittering magical ornaments shaped like birds and small animals moving through the branches. Tiny white candles with green, red, blue, and yellow flames floated just above the needles, carefully charmed to keep the trees from catching fire. Professor Flitwick is a genius with interior décor and could probably make a fortune if he ever decided to give up teaching Charms.

I met Minerva in her classroom where she was tending the animals used in Transfiguration classes. She greeted me with a warm hug and a smile and we walked up to her quarters. I have been in her sitting room before, but it is somehow different to be there as a guest rather than a student.

We had tea, ate cranberry scones and talked for hours. She told me about her students this year and some new transfigurations she added to the advanced classes. I told her it was marvelously creative to have the Sixth Years transform an entire wardrobe of second hand clothes into garments suitable for the Halloween dance. In the spring, she plans to have them permanently transfigure the clothing again into functional practical children's clothing and donate it to a widows' and orphans' charity.

I gave Minerva an assortment of things she had asked me to bring from the States that she planned to give as Christmas gifts. The bottomless stainless steel tea mugs from Starbucks were magically engraved with names as she requested. The Headmaster and Professor Flitwick are each getting one. She wanted to give one to Severus, but didn't think it was wise to give him something so obviously Muggle in design. Instead, I got a plain black ceramic mug and had it enchanted for him. I'm not sure to whom she planned to give the Cubs baseball cap and pennant.

"Oops!" I laugh at the action in the yard below my window. Crookshanks was distracted by a few sparrows beneath the bird feeder. When he turned to stalk them, a tiny hand reached out of the bolt hole and grabbed his tail, giving it a fierce tug before letting it go. Crooks jumped and swooped around, but not before the gnome retreated deep into his hole. My cat has resumed his waiting to pounce position. Now, he's out for vengeance.

Minerva and I talked a lot about Avalon College. She was pleased to hear that the magical education I received at Hogwarts exceeded what I received during my first semester at college. I did explain that with students coming from all over the world with different educational systems, the whole point of the freshman year was to get everyone caught up so they had all the basics in place before going onto advanced topics.

I strongly recommended that any students from Hogwarts who were interested in Avalon be certain to go to computer camp before starting regular classes. Without it, they would be lost. I warned Minerva that the food is terrible. She knows of two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and a Ravenclaw who are interested in the college for next year. All of them are Muggleborn or half-bloods who are likely to have difficulty in finding apprenticeships. Minerva says their interests are in the Charms, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy programs. No Potions aficionados, as yet.

I offered to correspond with any of them who had questions, which pleased Minerva. I don't mind. It would be nice to see more faces from home. It does concern me how Draco will deal with having other Hogwarts students around who will expect him to behave like Slytherin Draco. He and I will have to be very discreet about our friendship.

Minerva asked how I was coping with being in the United States. It is stressful, but I assured her most of the stress in my life was not brought on by the content and demands of my classes. It is being in such a different place, a different country.

Without Harry, Ron, and Ginny being there, my daily support network is gone. I don't think I knew how much I depended on them or relied on the fact that I could go down the hallway and find one of them until I couldn't. Without my parents, my most fundamental support system is missing.

It helps when I can come back to England and be with my friends. Harry or Ron make a point of going with me out to the cemetery. I do better if I can spend a bit of time there. The nightmares diminish after a visit and my appetite is better.

Of course, I didn't tell Minerva that, but assured her that I'm making friends and developing a new support system while maintaining what I have here.

The reality is I've always had a difficult time making friends. I've only ever really needed a few close friends and I haven't been in America long enough to find that. In time it won't be so lonely.

Anita has become a friend. We have fun together and she is an enormous help in comprehending American culture. Becoming friends with Draco has been the biggest surprise. If I were inclined to read tea leaves or look in Professor Trelawney's scrying bowls, I would never have predicted Draco Malfoy and I could become friends.

He is so different away from England. There are many things he and I cannot discuss because of who he is and who I am, but I think being at Hogwarts and meeting the demands and expectations of his social peers were a tremendous source of stress for him.

In America, he is more his own man. There is no one there to report back to Voldemort that he is dating a mixed blood girl, is friends with a Muggleborn, and enamored with Muggle technology. I guess people behave differently when they are happy and unencumbered by the expectations of others.

I am not supposed to trust Draco, but I do within limits. He could have taken advantage of my vulnerability, but he hasn't. Heaven only knows when I got drunk after Christmas shopping, he could have asked me any number of embarrassing or revealing questions, but he didn't.

I'm rather embarrassed that I hauled him and Anita out of bed and made them get drunk with me just because I was depressed. I treated him pretty much the way I would Harry or Ron, both of whom would cheerfully get drunk with me if I asked them to. To his credit, there's been no teasing, no probing from him to find out who it was back home that Hermione Granger was enamored with. If Draco ever found out, it would shock the hell out of him.

Hiding our friendship may not be as much of an issue if he goes forward with his plans to buy a Muggle apartment building and turn it into a wizarding apartment building for students. If we don't live in the dorms, there's less of a chance of the former Hogwarts students figuring out what is going on. Draco wants to buy a building with about twenty-five one and two bedroom apartments in it.

Draco plans to hire a serving elf to do the maintenance. One might be surprised how many American serving elves appear to be human, having perfected skills in casting glamours. It allows them to do outdoor maintenance work without being identified as elves. Occasionally, a report will show up in a tabloid magazine about a space alien sighting, which is actually an elf who got careless.

After months of eating barely edible food from the cafeteria, Draco wants to hire another elf to prepare meals to be served in a common dining room, which would be an optional purchase by subscription. I estimate it would end up saving me money over the long run, with eating so many dinners at restaurants since the cafeteria food is so awful. Depending on the rent and other fees, I think I could afford it for the next five years if I sell my maiden brewed potions to St. Mungo's.

I can hear the sound of Molly moving around in the kitchen. She is preparing breakfast and will expect Arthur to be downstairs shortly. Ginny and I are permitted to sleep late, being on holiday. Not that I manage to actually sleep late, but it is nice to be able to have a few idle moments for contemplation.

My second stop of the visit to Hogwarts was to see Madame Pomfrey. At Severus' suggestion, I contacted her after Remus' poisoning to discuss what would be required to obtain a contract with St. Mungo's. Madame Pomfrey was already aware of my status, given she had treated Remus and knew I'd brewed the female half of the potion.

She made contact with St. Mungo's and found out the kinds of potions they were most interested in. The one they want the most is a fertility potion that can only be maiden brewed. It has a one hundred percent success rate in bringing about conception even in the most difficult cases of infertility, with the added advantage of guaranteeing the conception of a boy or girl, depending on an activation charm administered by the brewer.

I was astonished when she told me how much they would pay for that potion to be brewed by a certified virgin. Then she told me what I had to do to be a certified virgin. A spell confirming my virginity would not do, I had to have a physical examination by a licensed mediwitch who would certify my intact status. This meant before we could pursue this any further, I had to have the physical examination.

I definitely did not like that part. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable. At least Madame Pomfrey could do it and I didn't have to go to a stranger at St. Mungo's. She said I will be required to have the examination every three months as long as I supply St. Mungo's with potions. Every time I have a batch of potions ready to deliver, Madame Pomfrey has to check me with a charm to ensure I haven't given it up since my last physical examination.

The fertility potion is the first thing they want. Apparently it has been years since they have been able to obtain it. After that, there is a list of healing potions they would like.

Severus was right. I can do the male and female fertility potions over spring break and pay all my expenses at Avalon for at least two years. One summer's work, not even full time, will cover my tuition and living costs for the next five years. With the money I've inherited from Mum and Dad, I'll have a nice nest egg for after I complete college, perhaps enough to pursue a Muggle doctorate in chemistry. I can see real advantages to becoming an expert in using Muggle science to develop potions.

Madame Pomfrey will get a bounty up front for recruiting me and a bonus for every quarter she certifies my virginity. There are healing potions, such as the silver chelating potion for werewolves I made with Albus which require a male to do some of the work. I might be able to recruit Severus for that. Splitting the payment fifty-fifty would earn each of us a tidy sum.

The down side to all of this is that it depends on my virginity. I can make money off my virginity. Madame Pomfrey can make money off my virginity. Severus can make money off my virginity. This whole arrangement will give him a financial disincentive for being interested in me in a way I would prefer. If I had someplace else I could do the brewing, I'd ask Warren. He would appreciate the money and wouldn't care about the rest.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

One of the advantages to having my own apartment would be the ability to do simple potions in my own kitchen. I certainly cannot do maiden brewed potions in the lab at the college. They would be contaminated by the presence of male students. Besides, that would be the equivalent of walking around with a t-shirt that reads _Hermione Granger, Professional Virgin_.

Anyway, Madame Pomfrey will make contact with St. Mungo's and function as the broker. I will ask Albus and Severus if I can use the lab at headquarters to do the work during spring break, as long as I supply the ingredients and bottles.

Of course, this means Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape will get quarterly updates on the status of my virginity. I should assemble a mailing list and keep it on a database. When I finally give it up, I'll need to put a notice in the Daily Prophet. Perhaps take out an ad on the side of the Knight Bus. I could be right up there next to the advertisements for Mrs. Scours' Magical Mess Remover.

My relationship with Severus is one of those unpredictables. For six years of my life, he was Professor Snape. He was the man who mocked me for my teeth, berated me for my academic curiosity, detested me for my friendship with Harry Potter, and deducted House points if a single strand of my hair hit the floor of the Potions classroom. He was the greasy git and the nemesis of Gryffindors everywhere.

Secretly, he was a Death Eater, spy, and protector of all of us. In Seventh Year, he was the man who talked to me on top of Astronomy Tower when I was so terribly lost. The more I know of him, the more I believe his real personality lies hidden somewhere beneath the partially real façade of angry, mean-spirited, nasty tyrant of the Potions classroom.

He is my secret mentor. I've learned more from him about potions in the last six months of working on Wolfsbane and the Cruciatus treatments than I've learned so far in my college Potions class. I learned depths of theory and technique only hinted at during my first seven years of Potions education.

More importantly, I learned Severus Snape is so much more than the roles he plays. I started to understand this that the night we talked on top of the Astronomy Tower, when he sat with me while I talked about my grief and guilt. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me his handkerchief.

I look down at the handkerchief in my hand. It is all white now. The embroidered SS is in the corner and I trace the letters with my index finger. How many times have I felt comforted, just because I was clutching his handkerchief?

These are small things to most points of view, but fall far outside of the common perception of the persona Professor Snape has always projected.

It became more apparent when he teased me about my cooking. He talks to me now, sharing bits and pieces about his life, his dry sarcastic wit, and very occasionally about how he feels and thinks. He fascinates me in ways I never imagined.

He treats me so differently now. He questions and probes my knowledge constantly, but without the condescension so typical of him before. He calls me by my name and allows me to call him by his. His barbs are still aimed at Harry and Ron, but not towards me. He teases, but it is in a far more gentle form. There isn't meanness in it like before.

When he learned I was a virgin, I expected him to be merciless. He has a gift for identifying a weak point and going after it. He could easily have implied I wasn't attractive enough to garner a man's interest. Instead, he has been respectful. We even laughed together when he suggested I could make a tidy sum by making maiden brewed potions this summer. Severus has a wonderful laugh.

He leads a dangerous life.

He is brilliant.

He is an enigma.

He is rapidly becoming the object of my affections.

The last two months of school, I found myself longing for the weekends and holidays when I would see him again. When they arrive, I dress carefully and make sure my hair is fixed before I see him. I wish I was pretty, but I make the best I can of being plain. I think of things I can talk to him about, rehearse conversations in my mind. Doubtlessly, he would call me a foolish girl if he knew.

I think of things I can do for him that would make his life easier. Complex things like preparing the Solvo Ira potion ingredients and researching Cruciatus are part of that. There are a myriad of smaller things I've done, like doing inventory sheets, setting up the lab, bringing the loose tea that he prefers, and my selection of a Christmas gift for him.

My desire to find an effective treatment for Cruciatus is based less on a motivation to help humanity and more on a desire to help one single man. I want to stop his cycle of pain at the many levels where it exists. I am a feminist, yet I want to look after this man in all of the large and small ways because I suspect no one else ever has.

Is there any possibility he could view me as anything other than a girl, a student, just another person? Maybe not, but even if that is the case I intend to do what I can for him. I will be grateful to him for what he has done for me and preserve the friendship. Until now, I wasn't certain I could care so much for anyone. Now, I find I can.

I can hear noise from downstairs. Arthur is up and Molly has probably had her second cup of coffee. Bill is expected this evening. Ginny will pout because Harry has to work. The twins will stop by with their girlfriends. Heaven help me, I hope they don't have Brian in tow with them again. They will not give up on fixing us up. Molly will be sad tonight, because Percy hasn't come to see his parents in over a year. He's chosen a side in this war and it isn't ours.

Charlie won't be home since he doesn't have enough seniority to get any time away from his dragons at Christmas. He will be visiting at New Year and I think Hannah Abbott has something to do with it. She started corresponding with him a few years ago at Hagrid's suggestion. She's fascinated by magical reptiles and is doing an apprenticeship at a business in Lancastershire that raises runespoors, ashwinders, mordons, and other assorted things from which I really prefer to keep my distance. I think Charlie and Hannah are sweet on each other and trying to carry on a long-distance romance.

Ron and Harry hope to get an hour off for a quick meal with all of us tomorrow. They're on-call for the next forty-eight hours.

My Christmas gifts are wrapped in Muggle wrapping paper with pictures of Father Christmas with his reindeer. I charmed it to make his eyes twinkle, since he reminds me of the Headmaster. I'll deliver one gift today in person and the rest will show up magically tomorrow morning.

It is time to get dressed. Severus and I are going to work on the last two of the three Crucio potions today so I need to dress in protective clothing even if I'm not handling any part of it. I can see why he wears black all the time. It hides the stains. I ruined my nice green slacks on Monday when the terriant berry juice spilled on them when I was making the muscle relaxant potion we are considering adding to the internal Crucio potion.

It would probably be a little obvious if I showed up all in black, but I think black slacks will work. I could wear my lavender top and black waistcoat with it. I have a new pair of dragon hide boots I need to break in. If I'm going to work with caustic ingredients, I need them.

Ginny and I did some shopping in Diagon Alley before we met up with our friends from Hogwarts on Wednesday. We ran into Lavender Brown first. She got an apprenticeship with Stavoli Clothiers, one of the suppliers to Madame Malkin's and other exclusive shops all over Europe. She's learning dressmaking and design. She brought sketches of some of her designs and says two of the dresses she designed are being considered for their 1999 autumn line.

Parvati couldn't come. She's working at Bewitched Day Spa learning massage, hair design, and skin care. Apparently the period just before Christmas is one of their busiest times.

Neville was able to join us. He only got an hour dinner break and had to get back to the nursery. A lot of last minute orders for flower arrangements and poinsettias came in and he had to go back to package things up for owl delivery.

Ron and Harry were there, looking quite smart in their Auror robes. Of course Ginny latched onto Harry right away. Ron and Lavender have been pretty steady ever since the Halloween dance last year. I noticed there were plenty of women giving the two men the eye, especially after we got to the restaurant.

We went to a new restaurant in Diagon Alley called Barnaby's. They specialize in beef and seafood. With Ron's meat and potatoes preferences, you can't go too far wrong if they make a decent steak and baked potato. All of us girls ordered the seafood and Harry, Ron, and Neville had the prime rib. It was excellent and we had cheesecake for dessert.

Since Harry and Ron weren't on duty, we had wine with our meal. They all thought it was pretty funny that even in the wizarding world, you cannot legally drink until you are twenty-one in the States, considering we'd been drinking butterbeer since we were Third Years.

Catching up was worthwhile in the news department. It seems Neville has a girlfriend. The owner of the nursery has a daughter in her Seventh Year at Beauxbatons. She went there because of their Herbology curriculum. She stands to inherit the family business and has a special interest in ornamental plants. Neville worked with Samantha in the flowering plants greenhouse during the summer and even went to France to be her date at their Halloween ball. Neville has so much more confidence now than he had a year ago. He's grown taller, too.

They asked me if I had met anyone at Avalon. I told them about Adam and how we'd dated for a while and broken up. I implied that I was just dating rather casually now and not seeing anyone in particular. I couldn't exactly tell them I really wasn't interested in dating anyone at Avalon because I'm carrying a torch for our old Potions professor. Nor could I tell them that I'm essentially taking a vow of chastity through this coming summer so I can be Hermione Granger, Virgin for Hire. Sigh.

Well, time to get dressed. I'm due at Headquarters at noon and then back here at 6:00 pm. It will be a busy day and I get to spend most of it with Severus. That makes it a good day, right from the start. I hope Severus likes his Christmas gift.

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Thanks to my reviewers: Severus-Fan, Not So Chicken Little, Peppermintimago, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Ami Mizuno1, IrishLass6, Rinny08, Me613, Joani-The-Unique-Being, Ashvuck, Duj, Pinkwands, Arime Setta, PhoenixFlight, -Muggle-To-The-Max-, Nocturnal007, Droxy, Soul Chaser, LettyBIRD, Green-Eyed-Angel, Aldara, Bakaonigirii, MuggleMomof3, Silenthavens, Jocemum, MollysSister, and Lady Rhian.

Thank you to Zarafan who is trying to help me understand how to make a letter look like a letter when uploaded to to the software at this site.

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Chapter 43 will be about Christmas Eve day from Severus' perspective.


	43. Chapter 43

I own nothing you recognize, I simply play in JKR's world for fun.

Thank you to Julia for your close and careful scrutiny.

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Severus

December 24th, 1998

I can smell sausage and eggs cooking as I come down the stairs from the bedroom I use at headquarters. Most likely, Potter and Weasley are getting ready to leave to go on duty. I understand they have to be at the Aurors office at the Ministry and available to go out on calls for the next forty-eight hours. The simple delights of being the newcomers in a paramilitary organization, all the worst hours and duties rather like being on detention. They probably have to empty the rubbish bins as well.

I did not get much sleep, but once dawn arrived I just tossed and turned anyway. There is no point in just laying about with so much to do. I can prepare the ingredients for the second and third Crucio potions and have everything ready to brew at noon when Hermione gets here. Then we can spend the rest of the afternoon finishing the work on the cold immersion treatment potion.

"Good morning, Professor," says Potter. He is at the cooker, filling a plate with eggs and sausage. I can smell toast.

"Good morning, Potter," I respond, helping myself to some tea from the pot on the table.

"Why don't you take this one, sir?" Potter holds out the plate full of food to me. Such courtesy from Potter is…. surprising. I am voraciously hungry, however, so I accept.

"Thank you." I dig into the sausage, which is hot, spicy, and satisfying. I believe additional sage has been added to a commercially prepared product. Potter is a reasonably good cook, if lacking in presentation. A perfect sausage should be cooked to the same color on all four sides, rather than blackened on two. I am hungry enough to refrain from offering that observation.

"You're welcome," he answers. He breaks more eggs into a bowl, whisks them thoroughly, and pours them into the pan. "There's plenty here and I wasn't up half the night like you were."

He turns and gives me a good looking over. "For a man who made a round trip across the channel on a broom in December, you look to be in reasonably good shape. I'm surprised you're not still picking icicles out of your hair."

"Then you must not have been paying attention when Professor Flitwick taught warming charms during Second Year," I retort, with no real venom. After all, Potter did just make my breakfast. "Mr. Zabini asked me to thank you for the loan of your Firebolt, which has been returned safely to the broom closet."

"He's more than welcome," responds Potter quite sincerely. He takes another plate and fills it, joining me at the table. "I take it he is safely stashed in Calais?"

"Quite so," I respond. "In a day or two, he will be moved on to another safehouse further inland. His family will be unable to trace him."

Potter is looking at me curiously. I suspect there is a question he is aching to ask.

Oh, for the days when I could subtract House points because of Potter.

"I thought the Dark Lord wouldn't let you leave the country without his permission," he asks.

I have absolutely no desire to discuss the strictures Tom Riddle places on his Death Eaters and myself in particular with Harry Potter. I believe I have been exceptionally tolerant of his company this morning. Though, since Potter has approached adulthood has not been quite the impulsive idiot he was while he attended Hogwarts.

Does he have a legitimate need to know?

He is becoming an Auror. As much as I hate to admit it, he seems to be taking that responsibility seriously.

Albus has entrusted him with responsibility within the Order. Potter has not bungled any of his assignments. Yet.

Perhaps it is not unreasonable that he should know.

"Most of the Death Eaters are free to travel. The Dark Mark will allow them to be summoned to the Dark Lord from anywhere in the world. As Potions Master to the Death Eaters, I am more restricted. The Dark Lord wishes to have me available on short notice. Therefore, I must notify him in advance if I am to travel. I took the risk of accompanying Mr. Zabini across the channel. If I had been summoned, I would have had to apparate away. Mr. Zabini had the necessary information to travel safely to Calais."

Potter looks thoughtful.

"You've been working on his defection for a long time, haven't you sir?"

"I was his Head of House," I reply, stopping to take the last bite of my toast. "I have played a role in his life since he was eleven years old."

Potter is thinking again.

"More toast, Professor?" He asks and I nod in return. Potter hands me a plate of whole wheat toast and I take two more slices. I hand him the jar of Molly's strawberry preserves.

I can hear Weasley clomping about on his ruddy big feet. He had another growth spurt this autumn and now I have to look up to him, which annoys me no end.

"Morning, Harry, Professor," greets Weasley, much too cheerful. He goes over to the cooker and fills his plate and takes the empty seat opposite me. I am refilling my own cup, so I might as well do theirs. I pour Weasley a cup of tea and refill Potter's.

"Well, Professor, looks like you got back all right from your overnight trip to France," says Weasley.

"Mr. Zabini is safely out of England and out of reach of his family," I reply as I get up from the table to get more sausage.

"Glad to hear it, sir," says Weasley; "It had to take everything he had in him for Zabini to stand up to his family that way."

"More accurately," I clarify, "he had to abandon everything in order to leave. His family was not going to accept his refusal to become a Death Eater. They were under orders from the Dark Lord to bring him in to be made an example to other recalcitrant Death Eater offspring."

"I'm glad he's out of it," says Harry. "It still took guts for him to refuse his family's orders. If you hadn't supported him in it, Professor, he probably wouldn't have had the nerve."

I nod agreement, but I am not about to get into an in-depth discussion of my role in Blaise Zabini's defection from his family. I am simply relieved to have got him safely out of the country and into a safehouse.

Yesterday's Daily Prophet is sitting on the vacant chair. I pick it up and begin to read, nursing my tea. Hopefully, I will be left out of the rest of the conversation.

"Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?" he answers.

"Thank you for making breakfast. The sage you added to the sausage improved it immensely."

"You're welcome. It's the least I can do after the trip you made."

I return my attention to the newspaper. Weasley and Potter continue to eat and discuss their assignments for the day. Apparently Potter has paperwork to complete on an arrest he made yesterday in a shoplifting case. Weasley will be observing Shacklebolt interviewing suspects in a smuggling ring. They are smuggling in counterfeit women's designer robes. I am quite certain this is not the glamour they anticipated on the day Potter and Weasley decided to become Aurors and chase Dark wizards. My attention is drawn back to their conversation when I hear Hermione's name.

"So you're taking her on Wednesday?" asks Weasley.

"Yes," answers Potter. "She asked if I was free and I don't mind. It seems to do a lot for her peace of mind if she can get out there now and then."

"I think she sneaks out there by herself sometimes. Have you noticed the graves look too good?" asks Weasley.

This catches my full attention. "Pardon," I interrupt, "Are you talking about the cemetery where Miss Granger's parents are buried?"

Potter looks surprised. "Yes, Professor. And I agree with Ron, I think Hermione is going out there by herself sometimes. We've both asked her not to. It just doesn't seem safe so we've made a special point of making sure we take her out there whenever she's back here."

Here is a difficult point. I cannot discuss this with them without bringing up the conversation I have already had with Remus and Arthur. Can I rely on them to keep this information from Hermione and how will they react if I tell them about the portkey plan? I decide not to take the risk without probing a bit to see what they understand.

I choose my words carefully.

"In the last six months, I have spent a good deal of time with Miss Granger as we have worked on a variety of projects. I find myself wondering how well she is adapting to the loss of her parents and living so far away from her friends."

I watch Potter and Weasley carefully. They look at each other with expressions of surprise and dismay.

Weasley answers, "We've wondered the same thing, Professor."

Potter is obviously thinking over what he is going to say.

"Hermione is more sensitive to things than she lets on, Professor. Sometimes she tries to bury her feelings and put on this brave front so no one will figure it out. And if you dare say anything about that being a Gryffindor thing to do…."

I hold up my hand to interrupt.

"I realize the three of us have not always been on the best of terms, Potter. But that may be irrelevant in this situation if we share a concern about Miss Granger's well-being."

That appears to have caught them off-guard. They exchange looks again.

"What we tell you is confidential?" asks Weasley.

"What we discuss here is confidential," I reply. I want to know what they know.

Weasley looks at Potter. Potter nods.

"I don't think she sleeps very well," Weasley begins, "When she stays at the Burrow and I've gotten home in the middle of the night, I've seen her light on at 3 or 4 in the morning."

"She's lost weight, too," says Potter, "She never was a big eater and now sometimes she just seems to be playing with her food. She's got to be an expert at moving food around her plate. Like last night when we had dinner at Barnaby's, she didn't eat much at all and kept giving her food to Neville so no one would notice. When she gets depressed, she doesn't eat. Well, except maybe chocolate."

"I think she lied about a few things, too," adds Weasley.

"Now, we don't know that," says Potter, vehemently.

"She's not as happy there as she claims and you know it."

I raise my hand to interrupt, "Gentlemen, slow down please. Mr. Weasley, what do you mean?"

"I think she's bored at college," he says, "She was so far ahead of the rest of us here that the teachers let her do all kinds of studying on her own. You did."

That is true. If I did not give her extra assignments, special readings, and challenges to work on, Hermione tended to start sneaking into the Restricted Section. Merlin only knew what she might decide to learn about in her unstructured time if she got her ideas from there. Minerva and Filius noticed the same tendency and gave her extra assignments as well. What is the saying? The devil makes work for idle hands or something like that? Among the three of us we kept her time productively occupied.

"I don't think the teachers at the college let her do that, but then they wouldn't ever get to know the students as well as the teachers at Hogwarts do," adds Potter. "I think the special projects she's been working on with you are the most interesting thing she's done in the last six months. You know how frustrated she gets if she doesn't have something to work on that's interesting."

I decide to probe a bit further.

"Mr. Weasley, you said Miss Granger lied about something?"

"She talks about dating and making friends at the college." Weasley gives Potter an annoyed look. "Harry, you cannot believe that she's telling the truth. You know Hermione doesn't make friends easily and she hardly dated at all at Hogwarts. I just don't buy it."

"She dated that guy, Adam," argues Potter, "They went out for a couple of months and then broke up."

"Yeah, and she talks about him with as much feeling as she had for one of Hagrid's flobberworms," argues Weasley, right back at him. "Hermione is _deep_, Harry. If she cared about him, she wouldn't talk about breaking up with him so easily. She wouldn't talk about it all if she was upset. That's how she deals with hurt feelings. You remember how she was when you got mad at her about the Firebolt? She put up a front like her feelings weren't hurt and buried herself in the library. It wasn't until we all made up that we realized what she was doing."

"So what if she didn't care about him all that much," says Potter pointedly. "You don't have be in love to date someone."

"Why the hell are we arguing about this, Harry?" Suddenly Weasley is looking mystified. "The point is that Hermione isn't telling us the truth. I think she's lonely there and I don't think she's really got over her parents and it's wearing her down. Honestly, Harry, this is no different than what Moody's been teaching us for the last six months. You look for a pattern. Hermione's doing her best to hide it, but there's a pattern."

That statement appears to have Potter thinking. It has me thinking that perhaps there is a bit more depth to Weasley than I ever credited him with previously.

"You might be right, but I want to think about it some more," says Potter. "The one thing we can agree on is that Hermione is more screwed up about her parents than she wants anyone to know."

At this point, I decide to re-enter the discussion.

"Do you believe she feels responsible for her parents' murder?"

"The first few days after the murder, she said that a few times," says Weasley. "She seemed to think if she had been there, she could have stopped it or at least tried."

Potter looks thoughtful. "She said it was her fault because she was a witch. If she had been born a Muggle, they'd never have come after her parents."

"We talked to Hermione about all that," says Weasley, "She's a strong witch, but she knows she couldn't have come out alive taking on a team of Death Eaters while trying to protect her parents. I think she really understands that. It's the part about her feeling guilty that they came after her parents because she's a witch that gets to her. That part is true and I don't know how we can ever make her feel better about it."

"I believe you are both correct. The one undeniable fact is that if she were born Muggle, her parents would probably be alive and well right now. If that is the basis of her feelings of guilt, it will be difficult to resolve," I reply, frowning.

"We won't resolve it now, anyway," says Potter. "We better get going or we'll be late for work."

Potter and Weasley gathered their cloaks and gloves, ready to leave. Weasley stops before the two headed out the door.

"Professor, you probably spend more time with Hermione than any of us do. Maybe you're seeing some of the same things we are." Weasley pauses to consider his words. Potter is watching him. "Hermione's important to us. If you have any ideas on what we could do to help her, we're willing to listen."

"I will consider it." I return to casually sipping my tea and appearing to peruse the Daily Prophet. Hermione's two friends depart for their forty-eight hours of playing at being Aurors and leave me to my thoughts.

I spend the morning alone in the Order's headquarters, in the cellar laboratory. There is plenty of work to keep my hands busy while my mind travels elsewhere. I prepare the ingredients for Lucrezia Borgia's second Crucio potion. The chopping, slicing, and pulverizing can be done before Hermione arrives. She will watch the actual brewing and I will watch her.

Guilt. I can comprehend guilt and the different forms it takes. I masked my own with rage, believing it would never leach out where anyone could recognize it for what it was. For years, I denied it to myself.

I remember my first year as Head of House when Cosmo Sterling slapped that Hufflepuff girl when they stood in the hallway outside of Slytherin Tower after the Halloween Dance. I knew what kind of boy he was. He struck her because she refused to become just another notch on his bedpost.

I was circling the fool as I sent the girl on her way back to Hufflepuff with a warning to stay away from Slytherin men who were so clearly above her. I had my role to play even then. My wand shook in the hand I concealed within my robes. I had to settle for verbally shredding the wretch to the point where he feared for his bollocks if he ever went near any girl from Hufflepuff again. I called them unworthy of his attentions. I told him a Slytherin who could not seduce a woman without striking her was unworthy of owning his own testicles.

I wanted to use my wand to slice off the hand he used to slap her and it took my last thread of self-control not to do it. I knew then if he was the kind of man who would strike a woman, it would not end with that Hufflepuff girl no matter how I threatened him.

How many times did I see Father slap her? I must have stood there at the top of the stairs and watched a hundred times as he backhanded Mother.

Cosmo Sterling probably deserved to lose that hand. I wanted him to pay for all the times I saw my father strike my mother. I wanted to pay for all of the times I did not stop my father from doing it.

Guilt is a familiar companion. He walks by my side every day.

I have examined my guilt in all of its depth, sharp angles, and dark hallways. I have reveled and wallowed in it. I have allowed it to…. to consume me through my expression of rage and in doing so took a mark on my arm that binds me to all I now revile.

But that is me. That is not Hermione.

Gentle creature that she is, her guilt does not turn outward. Her guilt turns inside and she tortures herself with it. It does not occur to her to take it out on others.

I prefer….

I do not want….

She should not have to suffer for the accident of her birth.

But, I am an ungentle man. How do I do this?

I can verbally disassemble some of the strongest individuals I know.

Magically, I can duel with the finest and win.

I am capable of brewing the deadliest and most delicate potions known to wizarding kind.

If I need to do it, I know how to kill with my bare hands.

None of these skills will help me in this instance. Not when it comes to dealing with the heartache of a young woman. For some insane reason, I volunteered to do this even though I am clearly not emotionally adequate to the task. Why would anyone for one moment imagine my life is so in order that I should be entrusted with trying to help someone with their problems?

Sigh.

I set the black nightshade berries to stew so I might extract the juice to add to the base for the potion.

Sooner or later Hermione will reach the point in her stress where she will go to the cemetery alone if neither of her friends can go with her. She will do so in hope of assuaging the guilt, at least for a while. When she does, she will find herself here in this cellar with the doors locked and warded until I get here to release her.

I will have to trust that I will somehow find the words to say when I confront her that will enable her to deal with her feelings instead of running away and hiding from them. Perhaps she can learn from my mistakes. Merlin knows, I have made enough of them.

I check the list of ingredients from the potion in _Difficilus Mortegena_. My preparations are complete. Hermione should be arriving soon. Perhaps lunch would be in order.

------------------------

Hermione arrives as I have added a touch more cream to the potage _pomme de terre_.

"Making potato soup, Severus?"

"Hermione, only a Philistine would call a delicate blend of broth, cream, herbs, and carefully diced pieces of a humble root _potato soup_."

"Potato chowder?"

"Your education is woefully inadequate. This is potage _pomme de terre_. The potato, humble as it may be, is truly the apple of the earth." I spear a bit of potato with a fork, making certain it is done.

"Molly brought bread last night. Would you bring it out?"

"Certainly," she replies.

Without a doubt, Molly makes the best bread. Hogwarts' elves cannot even begin to compete. Hermione takes out a loaf of bread and slices off some thick pieces.

"Is Remus going to join us?" she asks.

"No. He was not here when I arrived and I do not know when he will be back."

The bread is on a platter and a tub of whipped butter on the table. Hermione takes out the teapot and the box of loose tealeaves. She warms the pot, measures carefully and next, the teapot is on the table, the strainer beside it. I take the ladle and fill two bowls, placing them on the table.

We take our usual places. Hermione takes a spoonful of the soup, blows on it, and takes her first taste.

"Leeks, rather than scallions and I believe a hint of thyme." She raises an eyebrow at me in a rather good imitation of my own facial expression. I cannot help but smile.

"Correct."

"I can tell the thyme by taste, but not by smelling the soup."

"Lack of natural talent, I fear," I examine her delicate nose in a way that has become a standing joke between us. She smiles back at me.

"I will have to keep practicing. This is very good soup, Severus." She pours tea for both of us.

"So, did you enjoy dinner last night?"

"I did. Thank you for suggesting Barnaby's. The salmon was excellent and I know the boys enjoyed their prime rib."

"Minerva found the restaurant just before term started. It has become a popular place. So you recommend the salmon?"

"I ate till I was stuffed. Barely had room left for the cheesecake," she says as she sips more of the soup.

I will make sure she finishes the soup.

"How is your rat?" I ask.

"Her name is Shirley and she is no longer my rat," she says with a whimsical look on her face. "I went to see Mary Ellen Whitcomb yesterday, correction, Mary Ellen Berwick. Her adoptive parents gave me permission to give her the rat as a Christmas present. She promptly named it Shirley and I have no idea why. They have two absolutely delightful crups, but she can't take one of them to Hogwarts, so the Berwicks allowed me to give her the rat."

"So Crookshanks will be forced to give up sitting in front of the cage and staring at it?"

"Much to Shirley's relief. Crooks really did have evil intentions," laughs Hermione.

"How is Miss Berwick adjusting to her new family?"

"Very well, I think. They're very good to her and her new sister has really taken to her. She's in her mid-twenties, I think, and works at the Ministry. They spend quite a bit of time together during holidays and vacations. The Headmaster did a good job in matching all of them up."

"Sadly, it is not the first time he has had to do this."

"No, it isn't, is it?" She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. "Too many orphans."

"We have not discussed this since the night on Astronomy Tower, Hermione. How are you doing?"

The sadness is exchanged for a mask of casual neutrality. I see she has acquired more acting skills, the ability to act like nothing is wrong in order to hide pain.

"I'm doing all right. Now and then, it kind of catches up with me and I feel rather depressed."

"Such as around holidays like Christmas?"

The mask slips a bit and the sadness shows through. "Does it show?"

"A bit. You do not have to pretend around your friends, Hermione."

"I'd rather my friends not think of me as a wet blanket. It's been a year. I deal with it as it comes."

"There are no rules for a right or wrong way to grieve or time limit for how long it takes."

"I don't want to burden my friends. It's my problem, not theirs."

She is shutting down and I do not wish to push her. Especially when I am uncertain of how to handle this.

"And now in the classic manner of Potions Masters and apprentices, I will leave you to do the clean-up here while I go down to the cellar and finish preparing the ingredients for this afternoon's lesson. Though technically, I should make you prepare the ingredients, too."

At least I can make Hermione laugh.

----------------------

It is 5 pm and we have finished with the Cruciatus potions and succeeded in blending muscle relaxant into the internal Cruciatus remedy. I am glad to have the former done and satisfied with the second. Animal testing will begin next week.

"You're on duty tonight and tomorrow?" asks Hermione.

"Yes," I answer absently, finishing my notes. "With Albus and Minerva visiting their respective families, I am in charge. There are only six students for the holidays so it will not require much. I anticipate having time to read and I do enjoy a good cigar."

"I'll have a houseful of Weasleys and whoever else stops by. If it's any comfort, Molly is in full nagging mode with Bill and the twins about when they're going to settle down and make her a grandmother."

"Given the legendary Weasley fertility, Molly should be happy none of her unmarried sons have made her a grandmother already."

Hermione chuckles at that one.

"Merry Christmas, Severus."

I look up and see Hermione holding out a box. It is wrapped in paper with what looks like Albus dressed as Father Christmas, which he manages to do in every day life on a rather frequent basis.

I am surprised she would do this and more pleased than I really wish to admit.

"Thank you, Hermione. In that case, I should probably give you this." I reach under the counter where I have placed her package. I hold the blue foil wrapped package out to her.

She smiles and it is one of those deeply happy smiles when her whole face glows. It catches somewhere near my heart that she should be so pleased to receive something from me.

We each take our proffered package. Hermione opens hers first, carefully peeling off the wrapping. She opens the gift box and sees the leather roll inside. Hermione takes it out and unties the leather bindings and unrolls it out on the table.

"Oh, Severus, this is wonderful," she says, looking genuinely pleased. "These are Kroehler knives, a complete set of potions cutting implements." She runs her hand along the sleeves and withdraws one. "There's even a flint blade and an obsidian blade."

She looks up at me and grins. "I'll be the envy of everyone in Potions 202. A complete set of Kroehler's. Professor Ben Ari will probably be the only other person there with a set."

"It is a traditional gift from a Master to apprentice." I do not mention that it is usually a gift given upon completion of an apprenticeship. That is when I received my set.

"It is magnificent and I promise to give them proper use." She is still smiling. Most women would not be entirely pleased with a Christmas gift of knives. "Now open yours, Severus."

I unwrap the Albus Dumbledore theme wrapping paper and find a silver plastic box inside. I find a latch and pop it open.

A calculator. With an odd clear plastic over it. I lift it out of the box and I know I am holding it reverently. I look to Hermione for an explanation.

She is still smiling.

"It's a Hewlett Packard scientific calculator. The plastic covering is very flexible and shouldn't get in the way when you use it. This is a project my friend, Adam Schuler, and his cross-disciplinary team are working on. They developed this plastic sleeving to protect the calculator in magical environments."

"This is remarkable." I push the _on_ button through the sleeve and enter 2 plus 2 and hit the _equal_ button. The answer is 4. I look at Hermione and I know I'm grinning like a fool. "It works."

"It works here," answers Hermione. "The townhouse is strongly warded and there's plenty of magic used here. The potions and charms built into the plastic should prevent it from interfering with the calculator. I wouldn't take it Hogwarts, though. I don't think it would hold up there." She reaches into her ever-present backpack and pulls out another silver plastic box and holds it out to me.

I take it and open it. It is another calculator, but a very basic one. It has the flexible plastic wrapping, too.

"This one is for you to try at Hogwarts. It's an inexpensive calculator. If the thousand years of magic and wards at Hogwarts burn it out, it isn't a big loss. Part of the deal for getting Adam to adapt the Hewlett Packard for me was that you have to take the other one to Hogwarts and then return it to him so he can take it apart and see what the magic does to it. Hogwarts will be the most powerful magical location any of the calculators have been tested in."

"I will keep the Hewlett Packard here, then." I remove the instruction manual and look through it. "This calculator can do analysis of variance," I remark. I am amazed by what this square of plastic can do."

"It can even do a simple multiple regression analysis," Hermione explains.

I am grinning like an idiot again.

"Twenty years ago, it took a huge IBM mainframe computer to do a multiple regression analysis. You realize it is going to take every bit of self-discipline I have to leave this here and not come back tomorrow to play with it."

"It is like a wonderful toy, isn't it? If you do find a means to get away, floo me and I'll join you. It'll be more fun than a houseful of Weasleys. I had to keep reminding myself the calculator was _your_ present and that it would be wrong for me to use it before giving it to you."

"I have more instructions from Adam." Hermione takes a spray bottle out of her backpack. "This spray potion reinforces the effectiveness of the plastic sleeve. The charm you need to activate it is on the label. Adam recommends that once every two months, spray the sleeve thoroughly and use the charm. The silver plastic box is strongly warded to hold out magical energy. Storing the calculators in them when not being used will add further protection. The calculator is battery operated and if the batteries need to be changed, the plastic sleeve can be removed to get to the battery compartment. He recommends taking it to a non-magical environment to do that."

"It will be worth it to protect the calculator. I believe I will take the instruction manual back with me to Hogwarts so I may study it tomorrow. I have data from my Wolfsbane experiments I would like to analyze, but it always seemed too much work to do it by hand and with a slide rule. I should have time to gather it tomorrow and begin organizing it."

"I'd love to show you how a computer works, if we're ever free to meet somewhere other than here. Except you'd probably end up frustrated at not being able to keep one at Hogwarts."

"You are right about that. I am grateful to have this." I hold up the calculator. "But, it is time to go." I put the calculator back inside the silver box and stow it in a drawer guarded with my own personal wards. No one is getting their hands on this. The instruction manual goes into a pocket of my robes.

Hermione picks up the roll of knives and puts it in her backpack. She hands me the small silver box with the other calculator in it. "If it manages to work, Adam would like to know how long it holds up."

"With as powerful a magical environment as we have at Hogwarts, I may have the answer to that tonight."

Hermione and I trudge up the stairs. I am oddly reluctant to leave, but I know I must return to Hogwarts. The elves will be serving the Christmas Eve meal soon and I promised Binns and Vector I would take over at dinnertime. Remus has not returned. Perhaps he is spending the evening with Nymphadora. I lock and ward the door behind us. We reach the bushes in the back yard where we can apparate to our destinations.

"Have a good Christmas, Severus," she says softly.

"You too, Hermione."

She disappears. I stand looking at the empty place where she just stood and then disappear myself.

---------------------

Dinner was exactly as expected. Six rather homesick pupils who would much prefer to be elsewhere celebrating the holiday are instead having an intimate dinner with the bat of the dungeons. In the years when the Boy Wonder spent every holiday at Hogwarts, Albus always made a point of being at the holiday meals. Now, with just regular students present, Albus has returned to his tradition of dining with Aberforth and other relatives.

I flatly refuse to pull Christmas crackers. I will not be dining with some ridiculous hat on my head.

The students and I finish eating as quickly as possible and they return to their common rooms. My Slytherin is spending the night with the Ravenclaws, which is fine with me. I do a walk around the castle, checking to make certain all is secure. I encounter Filch and Mrs. Norris who are planning their usual Christmas lapping up eggnog and listening to the wizarding wireless. I wonder if they share the same bowl just to be festive?

I consult with the House ghosts. The Bloody Baron, Fat Friar, Gray Lady, and Nearly Headless Nick will be patrolling tonight and tomorrow. Unless Voldemort decides to attack a nearly empty building, all should be quiet.

When I get to my rooms, I divest myself of my regular garb. I intend to be comfortable in my old cardigan and suede slippers. I pour a glass of my Ogden's Bronze Reserve, sit back in my favorite chair and summon the ottoman and put my feet up. I have a book at hand, an old Sherlock Holmes novel that I shall reread tonight. I light an excellent Cuban cigar and take a deep draw when I remember the second calculator.

I go get it from the pocket of my robes, sit back down in my chair, and open the plastic box. I pick it up and push the _on_ button. As soon as I do, the calculator gets warm in my hand and starts to smoke. I drop it onto the stone floor and stare as it shoots off sparks and flames. In seconds, all that is left of it is a solidifying mass of melted plastic and bits of metal.

I hope I can scrape it off the floor.

Correction. I hope the house elves can scrape it off the floor.

I burst into laughter. Merry Christmas, Hermione.

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Many thanks to my reviewers for taking the time to give feedback, encouragement, and honest opinions: Amsey, SMALLwhitelies, Starbridge, Me613, Aldara, Droxy, Shirlyn, PhoenixFlight, Phoenix's Feather, Evil-Mastermind666, Lady Rhian, White Silence, Mrs. Vladius Dracula, Mystical 137, Duj, Rinny08, Little Sailor Girl, Arime Setta, Princessfiona, Muggle-to-the-Max, SlytherinTwinCC, Ami Muzuno1, NativeWoman29, Severus-Fan, Jocemum, Soul Chaser, Peppermintimago, Bakaonigiri, Ashvuck, Millenia2, Belas, Green-Eyed-Angel, HpWylie, Badbugz, MollysSister, Latinachikita, and Sweetazsugah


	44. Chapter 44

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

For those of you who belong to the Julia fan club, the paragraphs describing the condition of the apartment building andrepairs neededread very American until she got her hands on it. I had no idea the terminology could be so different between the United States and Britain. Thank you very much!

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Severus and Lucius

December 29th, 1998

----------------

Lucius

Morning

"Father, this is what I mean." Draco pointed to a graph on one of the papers scattered on the table in front of them. "The real money to be made on this project won't happen for about four years. That's when the college will have a full schedule of advanced training programs in place during the summer. Wizarding businesses and government ministries will send their employees and pick up the cost of their housing. The apartments will be completely utilized all year round."

Lucius Malfoy leaned back and took another sip of his tea, wishing it were something stronger. His son had been showing him page after page after page of revenue projections, cost allocations, depreciation figures, occupancy rate projections, and his brain was badly overloaded. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off a headache.

In a rare moment in his forty-three years, Lucius gave up on vanity and reached into the pocket of his robes and drew out an eyeglass case. He took out the half moon reading glasses and put them on.

"Draco, imagine that your father knows nothing about business plans (somethingwhich Lucius knew to be true). "Imagine that your father knows nothing about business in general" (which was patently untrue). "Take this back to the beginning and explain it to me step-by-step."

"Certainly, Father," said Draco respectfully. "The whole point of this business venture is to meet an unmet need." He pointed to the mission statement on the first page. "My experience of living in the Avalon College dormitory for six months has taught me that most people who live there would rather live somewhere else, especially the students who have money."

"The rooms are adequate, but there are too many people living in one dormitory and not enough private space or even shared space. The food is appallingly bad. In addition, it is a multicultural environment with students from all over the world and there are few ways for individuals to express their own culture or to follow their own dietary preferences. As a result, students spend a fortune eating out," he said emphatically.

"I took a poll of the students on two floors and found that if I could keep costs within these parameters," Draco pulled a page from the stack and placed it before his father to peruse, "The students who come from reasonably affluent families all said they would move out of the dorm and into an apartment that could offer these conveniences."

"The college has a policy requiring all First Years to live in the dormitory," pointed out Lucius.

"Exactly," said Draco triumphantly, "Believe me, Father, that is the biggest selling point I've got. After one year of living in the dormitory and eating horrid food, they'll be more than ready for an alternative and I'm prepared to offer them exactly what they are looking for."

Draco pulled out a photograph and pages that appeared to be floor plans.

"This is the building I'm proposing to buy. It's a short bus trip to the campus, in keeping with the hide in plain sight philosophy we follow at Avalon. It has five floors with six apartments on each floor. Four of each six are one-bedroom and two are two-bedroom apartments. The apartments are small, with six hundred square feet in the one-bedroom apartments and 900 square feet in the two-bedroom apartments."

"I propose to take one of the two bedroom and one of the one bedroom apartments on the ground floor and rearrange the floor plan to create a bigger kitchen and a common dining space, along with a small office and a transportation room for apparating and portkeying. The large backyard is open right now, but I plan to put up a privacy fence and warding.

The building is owned by an elderly Muggle who used to live in it and take care of it himself. He is in poor health and living with family who want to sell the building. It looks run down, but I had a surveyor come in and look it over. He says the roof is only eight years old and in excellent condition, while the heating and air conditioning were renewed ten years ago. The windows were all replaced about fifteen years ago and have at least another fifteen years of life in them. Renovation expenses will include repainting from top to bottom, replacing carpeting and linoleum, light fixtures, bathroom and kitchen cabinets and other cosmetic changes. Some re-pointing of the brickwork is needed. I do want to replace the doors throughout the building with wood, which is more easily warded than the metal doors currently in place. Though, I'm not certain if I can do that and meet Muggle fire regulations."

"And what is the asking price for the building, in galleons, if you please?" asked Lucius as he looked over the list of renovations.

Draco pulled out another piece of paper. "This is the asking price. I believe in the current real estate market and with the family's desire to get the building sold before the old man dies, I can get it for this." Draco pointed to another figure. "I have the money, Father. My inheritance from Great-Grandfather Black has been just sitting there in the vault and the rate of interest from Gringott's is not nearly as good as the return on investment I project from my business plan."

"Will you have time for this with your studies?" asked Lucius.

"The current tenants will all have to be moved out before I can turn this into a wizarding building. That can be done before the end of the school year. According to the time-line I have from a wizarding renovation company, it will take four to six weeks for the work to be done. The building will be ready for occupancy six weeks before the autumn term. I can take reservations now and have commitments for every apartment just as soon as I close on the building. I will hire a service elf to handle regular maintenance and to deal with tenants."

"Why do you want to hire American serving elves when you could simply bring a few of our extras with you at no cost?"

"You don't know what American serving elves are like, Father. They are practically a different species from our house elves. If I took any of ours over there and they met up with American elves, they would bring back all sorts of ideas and notions about rights that would not be to our advantage here in England."

Draco hesitated for a moment and then plunged ahead.

"You cannot discipline an American serving elf by kicking him, Father. He'd have the Serving Elves Union all over you."

"I see," said Lucius pensively. "Perhaps you are correct in not bringing this kind of influence into our household."

"This project would require you to stay in America for most of the summer and would give you extensive exposure to the business world, both Muggle and wizarding. The Dark Lord would approve of that." He looked at his son. "You do realize you would be paying taxes in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds?"

"Unavoidable in America, Father," answered Draco; "Virtually every wizarding business has to factor it into the cost of doing business."

"You say your friend Anita helped you put together the plan and that her father looked it over?"

"Mr. Schuler was very helpful and made excellent suggestions, especially about tax advantages and depreciation," said Draco. "But then, he's made himself a billionaire using the same kinds of planning tools I used. He uses Arithmancy to project social and business trends in ways I've never seen before. I'd bet Aunt Beatrice or Professor Vector wouldn't know how to do what he's done."

"I know it is important that I take a Charms major because of the commitment we made to the Dark Lord, but I'm considering adding Arithmancy as a second major."

"Can you do that? Take the equivalent of two apprenticeships?" asked Lucius, surprised.

"At Avalon, I can," nodded Draco, "It just means I won't take any fluff classes for the next three and half years. It might require taking classes during the summer. It's more work, but I think it will pay off." He leaned forward towards his father, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "We can make a _fortune_ this way. Just learning how to predict investments will be worth it, Father. No one else in England is doing this."

"That is an advantage I can appreciate," said Lucius, raising an eyebrow. "Leave me your business plan to read through and I will give you my answer in the next few days."

"Shall I have Pudding get lunch for us, Father?" asked Draco. "Mother won't be back from Diagon Alley for a few hours yet. She said something about a fitting at Madame Malkin's."

"Yes, have Pudding prepare lunch," said Lucius, "and tell him that Severus will be joining us." Lucius stacked the papers in front of him. Computer printouts, as Draco called them. He put them back in order, adjusted his spectacles, and began to read.

As he went through the proposal, he did not understand some of the mathematical aspects of it. He had provided the financial sponsorship for a number of new businesses over the years, but did so more on instinct than anything else. It did look as if Draco had investigated this apartment business thoroughly.

Lucius wondered more about Daniel Schuler. Everything he had learned about the man indicated business genius. But his approach of integrating Muggle technology and magic went against the grain. Everything he had been taught, everything his Pureblood culture had led him to believe told him that it was wrong. It should not work. Pure magic should always be superior to anything tainted with Muggle techniques.

But, apparently it did work. Perhaps one could make money by mixing the two. Schuler was not selling hybrid products to the Muggle population. The International Council of Wizards and the Secrecy Act held enough sway in America to keep him from crossing that line.

He was making a bloody fortune from Muggles and Lucius had no objection to that. There could be no such thing as impure money. And with the way Voldemort had been bleeding him dry the last few years, a whole new approach to investing might be needed. If Draco could learn this new method of doing business, he could revitalize the Malfoy family fortune, especially if his father did not survive the war.

Lucius was prepared for that. This afternoon would be the decisive step. Severus would arrive and have lunch with him and Draco. Later, following Draco's Occlumency lesson, Lucius and Severus would leave to meet with Dumbledore.

That thought made Lucius uncomfortable. The last time he had spoken to the old man, Lucius was still on the Hogwarts' Board of Governors. He held the whip hand at that time with the basilisk running around the school and had kicked the old fart out of Hogwarts for a few weeks.

No more. Now, he was going to Albus Dumbledore to beg for his wife and son at any price Dumbledore cared to name. Never had he believed that the day would come when a Malfoy would humble himself to a Muggle lover.

That was the price he would pay for taking the Dark Mark when he was eighteen. Lucius thought back to those days when he had bound himself to a megalomaniac who spoke the words upper class Purebloods wanted to hear. Racial purity, the superiority of the magical family, that the future belonged to those who would seize it, and that only the strong deserved to survive. Lucius had bought it all in those early days, but by the time infant Potter kicked Voldemort out of his body, Lucius knew the Dark Lord was not the one who would bring about the social change Lucius desired. The Dark Lord was after power for himself and had no intention of sharing.

Apparently Severus had figured that out first. According to what his cousin had disclosed to him, he had been spying for Dumbledore since he was twenty-one. Lucius had suspected since the Dark Lord's return that Severus was not truly loyal to Voldemort and was passing vital information to Dumbledore. Lucius never suspected his spying began during the first war.

Severus had been pushed over the edge by the murders of Amanda McKinnon and Lily Potter. Lucius loved Severus like a brother, but the man was unbelievably sentimental when it came to women.

Severus had been a First Year, just past his twelfth birthday when his father murdered his mother and committed suicide. That event brought him to his cousin's attention. Lucius was almost fifteen. The boy was lost and alone and it appeared the family was going to let him get tossed into an orphanage.

That was until Lucius saw hero-worship in the youngster's eyes and found him to be worth saving. He took Severus under his wing and forced his own father to look among the relatives and find someone who would take guardianship. In return, he found the younger brother his parents had never given him.

Severus was observant, brilliant, and insatiably curious. He wanted to learn everything under the sun and definitely anything that should be hidden away in darkness. Lucius was only too happy to teach him what he knew and to help Severus to find the resources to learn what he did not know. Lucius taught him Pureblood values and Severus soaked it up like a sponge.

Severus did have his weaknesses. He was socially backward even with Lucius' tutelage. After Lucius finished school and James Potter and friends took after Severus with the intent of humiliating him, they were amazingly successful. Of course, had Lucius still been around, the three of them – Potter, Black, and Lupin – would have paid a high price for their malicious pranks. Particularly the time Black set up Severus to have an encounter with a werewolf.

In a manner of speaking, two out of three had paid with their lives for opposing what Lucius stood for. But, Lucius had not been around at the time and Severus had never really recovered from that public humiliation. Severus' anger was one of the things that drove him into the Death Eaters.

Another weakness was his attitude towards women. If Lucius could do it over again, he would have insisted that Severus' guardian arrange a marriage for him right after completing his education at Hogwarts. If Severus had not needed to make a decision about a wife or engage in a courtship, he might have been much happier.

Lucius suspected that Severus had it in him to be faithful to a wife, something Lucius did not understand, but if other men chose to live that way, it left all the more women for him to seduce. Fortunately, Narcissa turned a blind eye to such activities. She knew Lucius would always return to her.

That damn Lily Evans. It was during Severus' Sixth Year that the ambitious mudblood bitch broke up with James Potter and decided to use Severus to get even. Lucius knew Severus was attracted to the little Gryffindor tramp. Why could he not see that the vixen was determined to make up for her lowly birth by getting herself a Pureblood husband?

By that time, Severus was known to have a brilliant future. He was already investigating apprenticeship possibilities and half a dozen Potions Masters were considering him for places. He might not have two sickles to rub together until he completed his apprenticeship, but he would have the potential to one day be very comfortably set.

Severus never could see ambition in a woman's eyes, at least not then. Nor did he really understand the saying that all cats are gray in the dark. He could not just use Lily Evans for the reason the gods created Muggleborns and then cast her aside. Severus had to let his heart get involved, which resulted in it being thoroughly broken when James Potter reclaimed his paramour.

Quite honestly, Lucius thought the woman got what she deserved when the Dark Lord decided the bint and her cozy little family needed to be done away with.

Unfortunately, Severus did not seem to see it that way. Severus was already spying for Dumbledore by that time, the McKinnon murder having sent him to the old man to seek a way out. If anything, Severus was still guilt-ridden that Voldemort murdered the first girl he ever loved.

But, that was water under the bridge. The world went on after Voldemort disappeared that first time. Lucius was relieved at the possibility that he was dead, but was not ready to believe it until a hundred or so years passed without any sort of reappearance.

Voldemort had been experimenting with potions and dark rituals he believed would bring him immortality. Even the outside possibility that Voldemort had succeeded at some level meant that Lucius could not let down his guard. He had to be prepared for a reappearance and that meant living a life the Dark Lord would consider plausible as a supporter of a missing master.

So, Lucius lived his Pureblood life, built his fortune, raised his son, established his political influence, and purchased Fudge. Ahhh yes, there was a waste of galleons except for the ones that bought Lucius' way out of Azkaban after the Ministry of Magic debacle.

Lucius supposed he would have to apologize to Dumbledore for the basilisk thing. That really was not his fault. How was he to know that young Tom Riddle had left a piece of himself in the diary? And that the Weasley chit would keep it instead of giving it to her father like a good little Weasley should? Instead the little wench got herself possessed by Tom Riddle and turned Salazar Slytherin's thousand year old pet loose on the school.

Oh, well. An apology and an explanation might go a long way towards getting on Dumbledore's good side.

Severus would be here any minute and then he had to sell Dumbledore on the idea that he would spy for the other side. Well, he would do it. The maniac in snake's clothing was becoming more insane every day. Sooner or later, he or Draco would end up dead in the Dark Lord's service for no better reason than Voldemort was in a hysterical rage over a perceived slight. He had to find a way to prevent Voldemort from winning.

Severus

December 29th, 1998

Afternoon

"I want you to listen carefully to what I am saying," I tell Draco who is now sitting across from me in a comfortable chair in the library of Malfoy Manor.

"The Dark Lord will seek out memories with a strong emotional attachment," I explain. "He is particularly fond of looking for experiences of desire and love."

"Why those?" asks Draco.

"I believe there are two reasons," I reply, "The first is that such memories reveal who and what is important to the individual he is probing. If you desire or love another person, the Dark Lord can hold them hostage to gain your compliance with his wishes. He can also use such things as a reward. A man who desires wealth can be lured into the Dark Lord's service by promises of riches. A man who desires a woman he cannot have could be offered her as his plaything in exchange for his services."

"The second reason is that the Dark Lord is a voyeur," I add, shaking my head in disgust. "He enjoys watching others have sex. He enjoys it in real life and enjoys probing memories for it."

Draco is both surprised and appalled. "He's going to look in my memories for times I've had sex?"

"Yes," I explain, "He is drawn to memories that have passion attached to them. You are nineteen years old, Draco. He will expect to find that you have had sex and he will want to experience it in your memories."

"But, what about my partners?" sputters Draco. "I'll betray their privacy."

"You will have no choice," I emphasize. "If you try to hide those memories, he will probe all the harder to find them and punish you for your efforts." I lean back and look at Draco intensely. "I realize it is none of my business, but I can best help you find a strategy to deal with this if I know who your partners have been."

Draco's fair skin is useless for hiding a blush. His dismay is obvious on his face.

I hold out my hand to stop him from replying.

"Do not tell me about your fumblings as an early adolescent," I clarify, "The Dark Lord will have no interest in your first few sexual experiences. He will find them too innocent, too inexpert compared to other things he has seen. Nor will he be interested if you participated in what might be referred to as a _circle jerk_ or other mutual masturbation with other boys. Those are fairly common experiences for males who attended boarding schools. The Dark Lord will be more interested in experiences where you are older and the woman you are with is a virgin or has enough experience to be adventurous."

Draco is now gobsmacked. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

I remain silent, giving Draco time to process what I have told him.

Draco raises his head and looks at me. He grimaces and sits up straight in the chair.

"There's really only two I think he'd be interested in," he says, quietly. "He'll want to see memories of Pansy Parkinson and Anita Schuler. Unless you think he'd be interested in seeing my memories of a couple of prostitutes."

"Are the prostitutes from Knockturn Alley or from one of the houses of ill repute in Hogsmeade?"

"Both," answers Draco, rather shamefaced.

"Then he has already seen them in the memories of others," I explain. "He will not be interested in them unless you have done some very unusual things with them involving bondage."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," says Draco, his eyes wide with shock, "Just how much of a pervert is he?"

"The very worst kind," I tell Draco. He should know the truth. "He delights in the most degrading forms of sexual congress he can watch. He is particularly fond of rape in all possible combinations. Male to female is his favorite, especially if the female is virgin. But, he is quite willing to watch male to male, female to male, female to female, and if there is a way to work in bestiality, Voldemort will be especially pleased."

"Then he's not going to find my memories very entertaining," snaps Draco. "Not a single rape to my credit. No whips, no manacles, and I've never been on a date with a sheep."

"Good," I tell him, quirking a smile. "If he finds your sexual experiences routine or unadventurous, he will spend little time exploring them. The point is that you must give him something to see and allow him to believe you are enthusiastic about sharing the experiences. He will consider it your tribute to him. True believers are expected to give the Dark Lord whatever he wants. It is a sign of loyalty."

I lean towards him to emphasize my empathy.

"Draco," I say softly, "We have all had to do this. I have had to do this." I pause for a moment and decide to tell him. "When I visited Avalon College prior to your enrollment, I made a real weekend of it. I obtained the services of an expensive call girl and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The Dark Lord has seen the memories of everything I did with her."

"All right, Severus," says Draco, aggravated, "I get it. I have to do this."

"It is possible to protect your most critical memories by putting them into a Pensieve. You already know those techniques," I remind him. "There are ways to protect other memories. Always remember that the Dark Lord is attracted by the _emotions _attached to memories. They guide him to where they are. There are techniques I use to remove or diminish the emotions attached to a memory, making them easier to hide."

"How do you do it?" asks Draco.

"I will talk you through it," I tell him. "The first few times the technique is used, it is helpful to do it in this manner."

Draco is looking at me curiously. "Who taught you?"

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. That should be answer enough.

"If you wish to do this, I suggest you get into a comfortable position and close your eyes."

Draco shifts in the chair, slouching as he closes his eyes.

"You need not say anything as I take you through the process," I instruct him. "You will simply raise your right index finger once for _yes_ and twice for _no_. Signal me if you understand the instruction."

Draco raises his right index finger, indicating _yes_.

I begin to direct him through the necessary imagery. I make my voice soft and soothing.

"Select a memory of a time when you were happy. It should be an innocuous memory, perhaps of a birthday party when you were a boy. Perhaps a time when you were playing

Quidditch for Slytherin. I don't know what the proper memory should be, but you do."

I wait a moment to give him time to think.

"Have you selected a memory?"

His right index finger rises.

"Very good. Now, I would like you to replay the best portion of the memory in your mind as if you were watching it happen again."

I see a movement of his eyes underneath his closed lids. He is remembering.

"Now that you have watched the memory, I would like you to replay it again, but when you reach the place where the memory is the strongest, the happiest, I want you to stop the action and freeze the scene in your mind."

I wait and watch. Draco's features are relaxed and comfortable.

"Do you have the image in front of you, frozen in time?"

Draco raises his finger.

"Take the image in front of you and place it into a portrait. Put a frame around it and turn it into an oil painting. Signal _yes_ when you have done this."

A few seconds pass. Draco moves his finger.

"The image in front of you is a painting," I tell him convincingly. "It is paint and canvas. It is flat. There is no movement. In fact, as you look at the painting, the color is fading out of it. The painting is now black and white, in shades of gray. Signal _yes_ when the painting is gray."

Draco raises his finger.

"What you see in front of you is no more than a Muggle painting. It is flat, canvas and paint and nothing more. It is gray. There is no movement, no activity. It has no texture, no life, no feeling."

Draco raises his finger. He is in a trance where his memories can be manipulated to remove the emotion.

"Take the painting from in front of you and put it behind you."

Draco's finger moves again.

"Start to walk away from it. It is behind you, part of the past. Continue walking and leave it behind. You are one hundred paces beyond it. You are two hundred paces beyond it. It is lying on the ground behind you, no more than a speck in the distance. You have left it behind."

I wait to let Draco follow my instructions.

He signals _yes_.

"When you are ready, open your eyes."

He takes a moment and opens his eyes slowly. He stretches and straightens in the chair.

"Whew," he says, "That's really relaxing."

"Can you tell me about the memory you chose?" I ask.

"It was when I got my first broom," says Draco. "Dad was helping me to use it. We were in the field west of the house. I fell off about five feet off the ground and landed on my rear end. Dad picked me up and brushed me off. He made me get right back on and try again."

"What part ended up in the painting?" I ask.

"The getting back on part."

"How do you feel about it, right now?"

Draco looks focused as he examines his memory of the event.

"Neutral," he answers, looking surprised. "Which is different. That's a memory that always made me happy, feeling connected to Dad." Draco looks up at me. "I think it worked. I don't feel happy, sad, or anything at all about the memory. It's almost as if it happened to someone else."

"That is the benefit of the technique," I assure him. "You can do this, Draco. After a few practice sessions, you can take yourself through it. Memories that can give the Dark Lord a weapon to use against you can be neutralized so he will be less likely to find them. If he does find them, he will not recognize them as significant enough to use as a weapon against you."

"The key is to be selective about the memories I chose," he says. "Can I do this with negative feelings, like anger?"

"You can use it that way," I reply, "However, there is another step you must take for storing important memories." Draco is looking at me with intense interest. "I would like you to think of a room or place where you could safely hide things away from intruders."

Draco brings his hand to his chin, rubbing as he thinks. He looks away for a moment and then returns his gaze to me.

"The wine cellar here at the Manor," he says, nodding. "I would definitely choose the wine cellar."

"A very good choice," I reply. "There are no windows, only one entrance, and well below ground. We can use it for this purpose. In that case, I would like you to close your eyes and relax. I will take you through the imagery."

Draco complies. He slouches again into the chair and closes his eyes. He slows his breathing and I can see him relaxing.

"Very good, Draco," I tell him, my voice returning to the necessary rhythmic pattern I need to guide him. "I would like you to take in a deep breath through your mouth and then hold it to the mental count of three." I demonstrate for him by taking a deep breath and then counting aloud. "One….Two….Three. Now go ahead and exhale through your mouth with a sigh."

Draco releases the deep breath with a sigh. I can see his muscles relaxing further.

"Anytime you feel yourself tensing up, just take a deep breath through your nose, hold it to the mental count of three, and let it out with a sigh," I instruct him. "You will immediately find yourself relaxing your muscles, letting go of tension and stress, attaining a calming of the mind."

I am amused to see Draco's right index finger rise. The suggestion I gave to him in the session we just completed is still in place.

"I would like you to imagine yourself walking down into the cellars of the Manor, walking in the direction of the wine cellar."

His right index finger twitches again.

"Very good, Draco," I tell him. "You are approaching the door of the wine cellar. Stop before the door and examine it closely. Look the wood. See the color of it, the grain, and even the discoloration caused by age. Indicate _yes_ when you have examined the door and have it clearly in your mind."

I wait, watching patiently. Draco's face is relaxed, his shoulders drooping, and his hands are very relaxed. He is in deep trance. His index finger twitches up.

"Excellent, Draco," I say, monitoring him closely. Draco must not go into so deep a trance that he does not attend to my instructions. "Reach in front of you and open the door."

His finger moves in the affirmative.

"Step into the wine cellar and light the sconces on either side of the door." It makes it easier that I have been in the wine cellar many, many times over the years and know it well. Speaking of which, Lucius still owes me a bottle of very, very old brandy I must ask him about.

Draco's finger moves.

"There are bottles before you, resting in the racks. Most of the bottles contain wine, but some are empty." I lean forward to watch Draco closely. This is the most important part of the visualization. "I do not know which bottles are empty, but you do. Select an empty bottle."

The right index finger twitches.

"Take the empty bottle and remove the cork. You will find the cork is loose and easy to remove. The bottle has been waiting for you to take it."

The finger moves again.

"There is a memory you left behind, one which has no emotion, no feeling, and no life to it. It is a memory from childhood of a broom and a flying lesson. Summon the portrait of the memory. Do you have the gray and lifeless portrait of this memory in your hand?"

Draco moves his finger slowly.

"Take the portrait from its frame and reduce it in size so you can roll it up tightly and it will fit through the neck of the bottle."

The finger moves.

"Insert the portrait into the bottle."

Another twitch.

"Know that when you take the cork and insert it into the bottle, the bottle will seal. The bottle will become yours and cannot be opened by anyone except you. Feel this as you take the cork and place it into the bottle. Feel the cork and the bottle merging together, forming an impenetrable seal at your will. Only you will ever be capable of pulling the cork from this bottle. Only you will ever be capable of removing the portrait of the memory hidden within."

The finger twitches. Very good.

"Now that the bottle is sealed, place it back into the rack with the other bottles."

A finger twitch.

"You know which bottle holds the portrait representing this particular memory. Anytime you wish to examine this memory in the future, you will know which bottle contains. You will know where it is stored in the rack. You will be able to find it, take it, and remove the cork and the portrait. You and only you will be capable of doing this. No one may order or compel you to come here and do this. In fact, only you may ever travel to the wine cellar. This place is yours, private and inviolate, yours and yours alone."

The finger moves.

"Now, you will turn away from the racks of bottles and walk to the doorway. When you reach the doorway, extinguish the light in the sconces."

Another finger movement.

"Step through the doorway and pull the door closed behind you."

The finger moves.

"Look at the door again. See the wood, the texture of it. Look at the brick around the door. See how tightly it is sealed."

The finger moves.

"This door is now yours to command. The walls are yours to command. Seal the door. Seal it so that only you may come here. Only you can find the door. Only you can open the door. The door is yours to the command. It is sealed tightly shut and no one but you can ever open it. No one may command or compel you to open it against your will. No one may even find it, only you."

The finger moves.

"Very good, Draco. At the count of three, you will return to this place and this time. You will bring with you a complete memory of everything you have experienced in your journey to the wine cellar, in the wine cellar, and returning from the wine cellar. You will have everything you need to use the wine cellar to store memories as you need."

"Are you ready to return?"

Draco's breathing is speeding up. His finger moves.

"At the count of three. One….Two….Three. Eyes open, wide awake, feeling relaxed and re-energized."

Draco moves slowly, stretching a bit. His eyes flutter as he accustoms himself to the light in the room. His eyes become more alert. He yawns and smiles at me.

"The next time I have insomnia could you tell me a story, Uncle Severus?" asks Draco, with a big warm smile.

I cannot help but chuckle. I cannot help but love this boy.

------------------------------

I cross and recross my legs, attempting to get more comfortable on the bale of hay on which I am sitting.

Lucius looks completely out of place in this barn. He is quite a sight, sitting on the bale of hay across from me in an elegant set of deep blue robes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, including the furniture in which it is stored. On the other hand, Albus is staring down at Lucius from his standing position and looks entirely at home.

The man could dress in a clown costume and still be taken seriously.

After all these years, I am still amazed at how Albus can yell at someone without ever raising his voice. Lucius is looking quite cowed. I would like to believe I have mastered the technique myself by copying Albus. Most would say my personal style is considerably nastier.

"Now, Lucius," says Dumbledore using a tone of voice he typically reserves for misbehaving Second Years, "Do you really expect me to believe you knew nothing about Tom Riddle having left part of himself in that diary?"

Lucius answers in a tone of voice more reminiscent of a shamefaced Second Year than a full-grown wizard. I am inordinately pleased that I am not the only one to whom Albus can do that.

"Headmaster, it was simply one of a dozen items the Dark Lord left behind when he disappeared. When I saw nothing written in it, I gave it no further thought and left it in a locked drawer in my library. I was going through the drawer, clearing it out, when I rediscovered the journal. I did not feel it was wise to destroy it, so I was taking it to my vault at Gringotts when I stopped by Flourish and Botts and had that run in with Arthur Weasley."

"He annoyed me," continues Lucius, with just a hint of a whinge in his voice, "Arthur Weasley has always annoyed me. I will admit it was childish on my part to toss the damned thing into the girl's cauldron, but I believed she would give it to her father. Then, he would have to explain to authorities how she shoplifted it from the book shop. Or he would have to explain how he came into possession of it."

"Either way, Weasley would have to deal with an embarrassing situation," Lucius sniffs. "I realized later on that it was not worth risking exposure as a possible source of the diary and did nothing further about it. I gave it not a second thought."

"And you suspected nothing when a basilisk turned up at Hogwarts?" quizzes Albus.

"I did not know it was a basilisk, any more than you did at the time," responds Lucius, now in a rather supercilious tone of voice. "All I knew was that something was petrifying students and you had not stopped it. It seemed an opportune moment to assist you in moving on into retirement."

"Why were you so interested in helping me to retire? Surely my continued good health does not weigh on your conscience?" asks Albus with that amazing insincere sincerity of his.

"If you retired, Professor McGonagall would move up to Headmistress. Severus would be next in line for Deputy Headmaster and if I was on the Board of Governors, I could ensure he would get it," answers Lucius, both hands resting on his cane.

Lucius turns his head and looks at me, recognizing the shocked expression on my face. Thank goodness the Headmaster also noticed the aforementioned shocked look.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus knew nothing of my plans to move him up the ranks." Lucius waves his hand expressively. "It was always my intention to get Severus the Headmaster's job since he seemed so determined to stay at Hogwarts."

"Albus, you cannot believe…." I stutter.

"Please Severus, I know you well enough to know Headmaster is not one of your ambitions." Albus gives me one of his knowing smiles. I feel much relieved.

"Which brings us to the matter at hand. Why should I believe you wish to change sides, Lucius?" Albus summons a bale of hay and sits beside Lucius.

"Because the Dark Lord is a madman who will destroy anyone and anything that stands in the way of his conquest of the wizarding world. That includes my family, your Order, every Muggleborn student at Hogwarts, and every jarvey in England if he becomes deluded into thinking they are a threat to his ambitions."

Lucius manages to look quite dignified.

"I will not deny that I gave the Dark Lord my complete support when he first came upon the scene. I believed then and I believe now that Pureblood wizarding society is superior to that which is influenced by Muggle ways. When the Dark Lord attracted his first followers, he expressed that belief eloquently and with passion. I joined the Death Eaters and recruited Severus in the belief that I would be part of a political organization that would strive to preserve the old ways."

"Those of Muggle blood bring Muggle culture with them," explains Lucius, "They are immigrants to our society. I do not say that they cannot be absorbed into our society over time, but they need to understand their place and work to integrate themselves into the system we created. To absorb their beliefs and their ways risks pollution of our magical society."

"I say this because it is what I believe and I will not lie to you, Headmaster. I do not make this change and this commitment because my personal beliefs have changed. I make it because the Dark Lord is as much a danger to me and mine as he is to you and yours. If I wish to strive to preserve our society, I must stand against the Dark Lord. He will destroy it all in his pursuit of immortality and power."

"Open your mind to me, Lucius," instructs Albus, "Of your own free will, remove all of the barriers Severus has taught you to erect."

Lucius is concentrating, using visual imagery to remove the walls from his mind.

"Go where you will, see what you will. I open my mind with no restrictions," Lucius replies. "You could send me to Azkaban with what you will see, if you do not kill me outright for it."

"Legilimens," says Albus softly, power flowing from him, his eyes peering into Lucius' eyes. Minutes pass.

I cannot tell from either's expression what is passing between them.

A few more minutes and the stress is beginning to show on Lucius face. Whatever Albus is seeing is causing Lucius a good deal of discomfort. I suspect Albus is sparing him nothing. Not surprising since he did the same thing with me almost twenty years ago.

Albus is a gentler Legilimens than the Dark Lord. When Voldemore enters the mind, it is akin to having a home invader rip open drawers in a bureau and hurl everything out in an effort to find a single item of value. With Albus, it is more like a thorough and careful search, unfolding every garment and examining it before putting it away into its place within the drawer.

There is sweat on Lucius face.

Albus breaks eye contact with Lucius. Both men sag in weariness from the exertion.

"You have told me the truth, Lucius," Albus sighs, "Your beliefs are unchanged from what they ever were. You have not an ounce of shame in you for the things you have done. You have rationalized your responsibility for your own actions to the point where you can lie to yourself and everyone around you quite convincingly. You are as amoral as you ever were."

Lucius looks at Albus with fear in his eyes. He fears he will be turned down. But Albus continues.

"Lucius, you have told the truth. You love your wife and your son. You love Severus as a brother and have protected his double role for years. These are the only three people on this planet you would not harm or betray. In the name of that love, you will do whatever you need to do to protect them even if it costs you your own life through hard torture at the hand of Tom Riddle. I believe you, Lucius. I will accept your services as a spy."

Lucius takes a deep breath, this time with relief.

"I know my word means nothing, Headmaster. I have given it and broken it time and again. For whatever it is worth, I will give you a wand oath, a wizard's debt, any currency of vow you would ask of me. I shall not betray you or the workings of your Order. I ask only for the safety of my wife and son should my betrayal become known to the Dark Lord or if I should fall."

Albus stands, looking very tall, very old, and very powerful.

"You understand that there are no guarantees on the outcome of this war. Riddle could win. Hogwarts could fall. I could be dead. There will be no sanctuary for anyone on our side in such circumstances. However, your family will be given such protection as is ours to give. As long as Hogwarts stands and is held by friendly hands, your family will have sanctuary."

"Then we have a deal, Albus Dumbledore," says Lucius, always in terms he can understand.

"We do, Lucius Malfoy," answers Albus. He does not offer to shake Lucius' hand, nor does Lucius appear to expect it.

"These are the conditions under which you will operate," says Albus. "First, your contact will be exclusively with Severus. All intelligence you have to report will be reported through him. You will receive your instructions through him. You will, essentially, be operating in a vacuum. You already know Severus' role and have not betrayed him. He is agreeable to this and I will not risk anyone else at this time.

Second, you will continue your Occlumency lessons. You have some skill, Lucius, but not enough. I could have taken down your barriers. So can Tom Riddle if he suspects anything is amiss. Other than that, you will continue to live your life as you have done for the last few years."

Albus reaches into a pocket in his robes and pulls out three pendants in silver shaped like the Malfoy crest. "Third, give these to Narcissa and Draco and tell them to wear them at all times. Keep one for yourself. The password for them is 'Salazar lives'. Each will portkey the wearer to the gates of Hogwarts. They must pass through the gates unassisted, but should be safe once they reach the grounds. The wards will alert myself, Severus, and other necessary staff to the presence of the portkey just as soon as they pass through the gates."

Albus nods at me, my signal to take over the discussion.

"Anytime you meet with the Dark Lord, you will contact me and we will meet to talk about your encounter. Occasionally, you are summoned to a circle and I am not. If this happens, contact me so we can discuss it. Essentially, any bit or piece of information you receive about Death Eaters and Death Eater activities, you must pass onto me. Even if it seems irrelevant at the time, it could fit into a pattern. Something learned from you meshes with an observation by someone else, and so forth. Fortunately, we already correspond regularly and I am frequently a guest at your home. No one will think it unusual for us to talk."

"I understand," says Lucius. "As long as both of you are here, may I share my speculation as to what is going on with the Dark Lord?"

"By all means, Lucius," says Albus.

"The Dark Lord is becoming more erratic for reasons I cannot ascertain. We already know he has changed the structure of the Death Eaters. He has teams working on projects and reporting only to Pettigrew and himself. He does not communicate with the inner circle in the manner in which he used to. A piece of information you may not already know; I believe the Dark Lord is diminishing recruitment."

This is totally new.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Severus, you have always been brain power to the Dark Lord. My role has been more along the lines of strategy, politics, and leadership of the manpower. Ever since his return, the Dark Lord pushed recruitment of new Death Eaters. He wanted numbers. Now, he wants only a few select recruits, strategically selected."

"Blaize Zabini was one," says Lucius, offering an example. "The Dark Lord wanted him because of his family's connection to the import and export business. They have the means to get magical goods in and out of the country. His uncle, Theodore Zabini runs the day-to-day operations for the family, but he is 109 years old and talking about retiring in ten or twenty years. Young Zabini is viewed by the family as the optimal choice to replace him, but needs those ten to twenty years to learn the trade. Place a Death Eater in the job and the Dark Lord has a long-term solution to a problem. But, it does not explain why the Dark Lord has cut back on recruitment and why the cells are given so few missions."

Lucius continues.

"The Dark Lord prefers recruiting adults already in place on jobs and with families. It gives him a more powerful hold over them. Age was never important before. He did not care if the recruit was twenty-five or one hundred and twenty-five, each could contribute something different to the Death Eaters. The twenty-five year old could raid and the one hundred and twenty-five year old could contribute financially or with political influence."

"Not every Death Eater has worn the robes and mask. Not every Death Eater has the Dark Mark on his wrist. Not every Death Eater has been initiated in front of a Circle of Death Eaters."

I know Albus and I both look stunned. This is unheard of.

"Ours is on the wrist, Severus. There are others who had their Dark Mark on a place it is unlikely to be seen such as the shoulder or on a thigh."

"Why would he do it differently?" I ask.

"I do not know. My personal speculation is that we will find the Death Eaters from the first war all had their wrists marked. The Dark Lord expected to have a quick victory in those days and an obvious mark of belonging would become a status symbol. I cannot prove it. I cannot base any of this on anything other than my own speculation, but I believe the Dark Lord expects his conquest will take many more years. His followers must be discrete and keep underground. It is the only thing that makes sense."

Albus and I exchange glances. Lucius may have already proved his worth as a spy with this observation and speculation.

"Very well, Lucius," says Albus, "You have given us much to speculate on and I appreciate your sharing this with us. Unless you have other information to offer, I believe our business is done at this time."

"The only other request I would make is that if the Order decides to move against the Dark Lord, tell me. Even if it must be at the last moment before your strike, I wish to be in on it."

"At this point, I make you no promises." Albus rises, followed by Lucius and myself. "Severus, you may deliver Lucius back to his home. I shall return to Hogwarts. I bid you and your lady a happy New Year, Lucius."

With Albus gone, I reach out my hand to Lucius to apparate us both back to the manor.

He looks at me, worried.

"I have made the correct choice, have I not?"

"You have, Lucius." We disappear.

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Author's notes

I warned you Lucius wasn't canon in this story, but it doesn't make him a nice guy.

The incident where Lucius plants the diary in Ginny Weasley's cauldron to create trouble for Arthur Weasley is not canon. I have manipulated his motivation for purposes of the story. In _Chamber of Secrets_, Lucius does it to turn a bit of Tom Riddle loose in the school to get Harry Potter.

Yes, the Occlumency lesson is based on hypnosis (I am a trained and certified hypnotist). Guided imagery seemed a logical approach.

This website has had technical issues on and off this week, making it impossible to reply to reviews when I had opportunities to write them. My apologies.

Thanks to all my reviewers: Lyndie578, Siren34, T Wrecks, SSHGDMLOVE, Phoenix's Feather, Bakaonigirii, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Duj, LettyBIRD, Notwritten, Rinny08, Droxy, Green-Eyed-Angel, Mrs. Touchstone, SMALLwhitelies, Jocemum, Doodles Devine, Severus-Fan, AMI MIZUNO1, Zafaran, Muggle-to-the-Max, Adele Rose, Evil Mastermind 666, Aldara, MollysSister, Not So Chicken Little, Me613, Arime Setta, SnapeDreamer, Belas, and Amsey.


	45. Chapter 45

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

As always, this story is far better for Julia's input.

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Hermione

December 31st, 1998

The last two weeks have been the best of my life.

Probably not what most women would say about two weeks which included a first time pelvic examination, watching potions designed for torture being made, testing the aforementioned potions on rats and treating them afterwards, and receiving a set of knives as a Christmas present.

Though I really do appreciate the knives, especially since they are a gift from Severus. I'll always use them in potions making from now on. Every time I disembowel a toad, chop up a mordon liver, or mince a shrivelfig, I'll be able to think of Severus. I had no idea I could be so sentimental.

I'll remember this time the rest of my life because this is the week I realized I love Severus Snape. Mum always said that if you have to ask the question; '_Am I in love?'_ you probably aren't. I don't have to ask the question, I simply know I am.

He walks into a room and my heart beats faster. The sound of his voice in a room full of people captures my attention instantly. I know the scent of sandalwood and cloves mean he's somewhere nearby. I can tell the clip of his dragonhide boots on the wood floors from anyone else's. I'd rather be in the cellar laboratory with Severus than anywhere else in the world.

I wonder if other people are like this when they fall in love. I wish I could ask Harry or Ginny. They know what it's like. Or, if I could ask Arthur or Remus. But I can't. There's no one I can talk to about this because I don't think they would understand. Hermione Granger, formerly Number One Swot of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is arse over teakettle about Severus Snape, tenured Professor of Nasty Sarcasm of the aforementioned educational establishment.

In my best friends' eyes it would be worse if I announced I secretly had the hots for Cornelius Fudge, but not by much.

I've always considered myself an even-tempered person. In that way, I'm so different from Harry and Ron, and Harry in particular. I've a bit of a temper, but only when I've been pushed and it usually has to simmer a long time before it shows. I'm not one to swing from happy to sad or even reach the heights of bliss or depths of despair. I was always the one everybody could rely on to think rather than feel and to keep a cool head.

It all changed on October 19th, 1997. Between losing Mum and Dad the way I did, leaving Hogwarts, going to college, missing my friends, and finding myself in love, I think I have actually had some mood swings.

The whole idea of being in love is exciting. To have such feeling for another person is so much more than I ever expected. The quality of it is different to my love for my parents, my love for Harry and Ron (who are my brothers in all the ways that count), and my love for Crookshanks. It's as if someone opened a whole new compartment where love fits and the texture and feel of it is different than anything I've ever experienced before.

I didn't know I could feel like this and I delight in exploring the feeling. There are moments when the emotion sweeps through me and is overwhelming. Other times, I think of it and surprise myself. I can see why people newly in love go around with a ridiculous smile on their face and act positively soppy about it. It feels like such a miracle.

And then I think about the facts and realities of the situation. I'm nineteen years old and Severus is almost forty. He was my teacher just six months ago and probably still views me as one of his students - even though he treats me much better than he used to.

Heaven knows, I've stolen boomslang skin from his private stores, set fire to his robes, broken rules, become best friends with Harry Potter, and generally given him plenty of reasons to despise me (though I don't think he does).

On top of it, he's been a Death Eater and he's a Pureblood in a society that is capable of looking at Muggleborns like we're one evolutionary step below chimpanzees. When I think about the realities, I can depress myself pretty quickly. There is no reason I should believe my feelings would ever be returned.

So, I can't shout it from the rooftops. I can't even announce it to the one person this is all about. I fear jarveys will fly before he'd welcome such interest from me.

I think he accepts me as a friend, but that may be all there ever is. That's all I should really hope for, but I'm going to hope anyway. I will be his friend and if I see an opportunity to be more than that, maybe I'll have the nerve to seize it.

Sigh.

I will not, I absolutely will not make a fool of myself. Maybe when I'm older, he'll be interested. Could I hold out for a few years? I think I could, if there's hope.

I'm going to look for any sign of hope I can find.

So, I'll think about the work instead. This afternoon, we will brew Wolfsbane. We made the base on Monday and it was easier this time. I've had a chance to study the potion and all of the steps since we made it the first time. Tonight we finish the work, because there is a full moon tomorrow on New Year's Day. Remus will need it before he relegates himself to a small storage room on the other side of our cellar.

Before moonrise tomorrow evening, he will change into a set of clothes he purchased at a Muggle second-hand clothing shop. The clothing will be ruined by the time the three days are over. Remus will come downstairs and leave his wand in a long wooden box stored in a warded drawer in a table next to the door. He will set a dressing robe on top of the table so he will have something decent to cover himself with when this is done.

He will carry a metal bowl of water in with him and another empty bowl for food. The door will lock behind him, the wards automatically falling into place along with silencing charms so his howls won't be heard outside of the room. The walls and door are magically reinforced, because even with Wolfsbane, Remus will try to claw and pound his way out during the night. There is a mattress on the floor, which he will shred to pieces over the course of the three days. By the third day, he will sleep on the pile of shredded fibres.

The room is magically illuminated so it is no brighter than twilight. Remus is hypersensitive to light during the change and cannot be allowed in a room with a window, not that it would be a good idea anyway. Dobby will refill his water bowl twice each night using magic that does not require opening the door. He will use other magic to put food into the other bowl and to remove waste from the room. Dobby's single most important task for the Order is Remus' and everyone else's safety during this time. Fortunately, Dobby is very loyal and has a powerful sense of responsibility.

Were it not for Wolfsbane and Dobby's dedication and reliability, he would not be able to stay in the London townhouse during his transformation. Remus would be forced to apparate to the Forbidden Forest each month before the full moon and take his chances with the wild creatures of the Forest while running with the other werewolves who have no alternative but to seek it out.

At moonset of each night, Remus will return to human form. His muscles and bones will ache from the rigors of the transformation. He will be exhausted and his human body will usually purge itself of whatever he has eaten. Remus has found he does best if he eats a combination of cooked lamb and rice while he is in werewolf form. His digestive tract rights itself far more quickly that way. It's no wonder the man cannot keep any weight on him. I don't know how much nutrition he actually gets from what he eats while he's transformed.

He will take healing and pain relief potions Dobby puts into the water in the morning and sleep away most of the day in his human form. At moonrise, the process will begin again.

He is forty years old and has been going through this since he was a young child. No wonder the man looks sixty.

Preparing Wolfsbane potion for my friend is a small favor in light of the torture he lives with every month. It sounds trite, but I'll never complain of cramps again.

There's also a New Year's gathering tonight at headquarters. Any available Weasleys will be there. Minerva, Albus, and Poppy have promised to call in. Moody is actually expected. Tonks will be there playing hostess, especially since Remus won't be one hundred percent.

I'm hoping Severus will stay, but perhaps he won't. I know he has a close relationship with the Malfoys and if they are having a party, he will almost certainly attend it. But at least I'll have him all to myself this afternoon.

I select my clothing carefully. I can't dress for a party because we'll be working today, but I want to look nice. I've seen the wisdom of Severus' choice of wearing black while working on potions all day. After ruining two pairs of dress trousers in the last two weeks handling wiggling rats dripping potions everywhere, I told Severus I was going to wear black from now on.

He told me where he orders his frock coats since they can do them in a potion resistant fabric. I am now the owner of five pairs of black trousers with matching waistcoats of different lengths. I can wear different tops with them to dress them up or down a bit. At Avalon, we wear lab coats while making potions. Maybe I'll get small stock of those, too.

I'm risking serious harassment from my friends for adopting a uniform approach to dressing while I work, but I have to find a functional way to do this and Severus' has a way that works.

Honestly, I am not trying to dress like Severus.

I might be quite fixated on him, but I'm not bull goose loony as some of my Chicago friends say.

I select the black outfit with the waistcoat that reaches my ankles and a long sleeved shirt in red. I'll be a bit festive and the long waistcoat looks elegant. My hair goes into the black snood and I wear Mum's favorite diamond stud earrings. Checking my appearance in the mirror, it tells me the waistcoat may not show off my waist, but that it makes my hips look slim.

All things considered, I think I look as good as I'm going to get. Time to leave for headquarters.

---------------------------

The rat was squealing in pain when I placed it in the cauldron of cold water with the external cold immersion treatment, but it seems to be doing better now. Severus is watching it closely and taking readings with his wand.

"Increasing the muscle relaxant in the internal potion seems to be working well," he says. "The sedating effect makes the rat better able to tolerate the cold water treatment."

"Can we use the same proportion in humans?"

"I believe we can use a higher proportion in humans and stay within safety limits," says Severus as he examines the rat. "The sedating effect will be even more necessary in a human because of the thrashing about factor. Human arms and legs are a good deal longer than a rat's and can do much more damage."

"One thing really appears consistent across all cases," I remark, "The cold immersion treatment is more effective in reducing pain levels than the internal treatment."

"That is readily apparent from our tests," replies Severus, looking at the notes we have been keeping. "The internal treatment enhances the effect and provides sedation, but the real pain relief is from the cold water and external potion."

Severus scratches a few more notes as I hold onto the rat. We've found that physically holding the rat is more effective than just keeping it magically buoyant in the water.

Severus cools the water by two more degrees and the rat looks like it is pain-free.

"Keep it in there another 30 seconds," he instructs.

"Have you figured out why the other rat died?" I ask.

"Not yet," answers Severus. "The last readings we took showed blood pressure increasing. I am wondering if there is something in the acromantula venom or the firebladder extract that caused it. Those two ingredients are unique to the topical Crucio and are rarely used in any potions. We may never know and given that we are unlikely to encounter the potions forms of Crucio, I do not believe we will spend much time investigating now."

On Monday, we used the topical Crucio on one of the laboratory rats and put it through the treatment. It seemed to work and the rat was fine when we left the laboratory that night. It had burrowed into the rags I put in the cage and was sleeping. When I came back the next day, I found that the rat had died sometime during the night.

Just to make sure it wasn't something in our treatment potions, we tested them on three other rats without giving them the topical Crucio and all came through fine. Personally, I think there must be an interaction of some sort between one of the treatment ingredients and either the acromantula venom or the firebladder extract. I intend to do more research on it when I get back to the college, if I can find any relevant references in the literature.

Severus continues to make notes about the results of today's experiments. I remove the rat from the water and dry it off. It goes into a box with rags so I can monitor it. I continue to take readings. It looks like it is going to burrow into the rags, probably to get warm, and go to sleep. Its blood pressure has risen to normal rat level and everything appears to be going well.

Tomorrow, I'm going to come in and brew internal and external Crucio treatments in human subject quantities. This is the real thing. These are the potions we will use with the Order's next Crucio victims and I will brew them without supervision. There is every reason to believe the Crucio treatments will significantly reduce the suffering of a victim, but I am nervous about actually having to use them. It is such a responsibility to have another human being relying on me to help them.

"Do you have any questions about what you will be brewing tomorrow?" asks Severus.

"No," I answer. "I've brewed this several times now for the rats. It is really just an increase in volume. I checked and we have enough vials."

"I will call in on Saturday and check the potions, but I anticipate they will be up to your usual standard." Severus is looking at me under hooded lids. I think he likes seeing my reaction to praise when he gives it. I give him just a little bit of a smile. Too much of a smile and he teases me for it.

"I have discussed it with Madame Pomfrey and we will keep enough here and at Hogwarts to treat two victims at each location. The bath on the third floor here at headquarters will be magically enlarged to meet our needs. If a victim is brought to Hogwarts, either mine or Minerva's quarters will be used and our baths are sufficiently large already."

"Who is doing the enlargement here?"

"Remus, Bill, and your two friends. I believe it is a project for next weekend." Severus is looking at me with that raised eyebrow thing he does. He knows full well this is a recipe for disaster.

"Oh, that should be fun." I know I'm smirking. "I can't speak for Remus and Bill's skills, but Harry and Ron are lousy at Arithmancy. Harry can probably transfigure well-enough, but I can't wait to see what Ron does with it. And no, I'm not going to volunteer to help."

"Are you suggesting this team will not accomplish their mission?" Severus smirks back at me.

"I'm saying they will approach it like the Muggle joke about how many men it takes to change a lightbulb. It takes one man to hold the bulb and the other three to turn the ladder. There's another version that says it takes one man to screw in the bulb and three more to critique his technique."

Oh, no. I hope he doesn't think I just made a dirty joke.

Severus snorts and I laugh. Whew, close call.

------------------------

Dinner was fun. It wasn't so much a meal as a lot of finger foods. There were Swedish meatballs, tiny sausages in sauce, raw vegetables and dip, and other assorted things. Everybody brought something. I made a hot dip for tortilla chips with cheese and salsa with a bottle of hot sauce on the side for the brave. Severus brought a bottle of twenty-five year old firewhisky

We all took plates and sat all over the house. Tonks brought more Mudslides to go with the firewhisky and brandy that were passed around. Remus brought out an old Victrola and played tinny sounding music. I remember it from Third Year when he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He'd play it when we practiced defensive spells.

I've never seen Minerva McGonagall so relaxed. Moody was teasing her about smoking cigars. I thought it was a joke until he pulled out a box and passed it around. Molly and I were the only ones in the room not smoking, which resulted in my casting a bubblehead charm so I could breathe, which made everyone laugh.

I guess you're accepted as a member of the peer group when Mad-Eye Moody offers you a cigar. I settled for the brandy instead.

I've never been around members of the Order when they were relaxed and partying. Certainly never before when I was officially considered a child. Mad-Eye Moody knows some incredibly smutty jokes and can tell them surprisingly well. He and Minerva got into a bit of a competition for who could tell the most risqué jokes and Moody won, but not by much. Professor McGonagall always seemed so proper and straight-laced, but Minerva has gift for telling hilarious stories with an absolutely straight face. Severus was actually laughing so hard at a few of them; I thought he was going to spit his firewhisky through his nose.

Tonks was fairly well lubricated, in more ways than one. Remus was sitting on the sofa and she sat down, swung her legs up and put her feet on his lap. In no time, she was having a foot massage with sound effects. Molly told them to get a room.

Albus arrived with Poppy about ten o'clock. I had no idea they were an item, but with the little ways in which they touched each other and looked at each other, they have to be. Albus is about one hundred fifty years old and I think Poppy is about one hundred. I think it's sweet and romantic, but I'm squicked by it, too. It's like thinking about your grandparents doing it and that's an image I really don't need in my head.

Although I'm having fun and joining in the laughter, I'm not saying much. There's part of me that's afraid they'll realize the child is here and send me upstairs to bed or start censoring their behavior.

At about 11 pm, Severus starts to tell everyone about bringing the calculator to Hogwarts, pressing the _on_ button and having it flame up and melt on the floor. After a round of hearty laughter and remarks about Muggle technology, it leads to an interest in the working scientific calculator, which results in a contingent of Severus, Albus, Moody, Tonks, Arthur, Remus, and myself heading down into the cellar for a demonstration.

Severus is quite proficient in the use of the calculator now, so he does all of the talking. Everyone is interested in the basic adding, subtracting, multiplication, and division. When he demonstrates decimals, there's an enthusiastic response. Square roots start to lose them, and by the time Severus is entering the data for a demonstration of a multiple regression analysis of the influence of the twenty-eight day moon cycle on brewing Wolfsbane, the only one left is Remus.

"Quite honestly, Severus," says Remus, "I haven't a clue about what a multiple regression analysis actually tells you. I understand your data shows that factoring in the twenty-eight day moon cycle into the brewing is a statistically significant aspect in the effectiveness of Wolfsbane, but how calculating all of these numbers can tell you that more effectively than the anecdotal experiences of the users is beyond me."

"The experiences of the individual users are the most important result, but for purposes of scientific study, a statistical analysis can look at the effectiveness of slight differences between versions of the potion." Severus waxes poetic on the joys of statistical analysis, something he probably hasn't been able to do for a while.

Before long, Remus' eyes are starting to glaze over and he mutters something about needing to check that we have the champagne ready for midnight.

So, Severus and I are alone. He's bent over the calculator, finishing entering some of the data. He hits a wrong key and curses before I remind him of the _clear entry_ key. He looks much relieved as he enters the correct numbers. I continue to read the numbers aloud for him to enter, which is much easier than continually looking back and forth in the columns of handwritten numbers. Before long, the data entry is done and Severus has the results. More notes are written.

"Some day, I will write an article for one of the potions journals about the refinements in Wolfsbane and be able to include this statistical analysis. At this point, I will not because I could not explain to the Dark Lord why I utilized a Muggle form of mathematical analysis." Severus leans back from the table and the scattered papers and quills. "I believe this is the most useful gift I have received in many years."

"You're welcome." I give him a warm smile. It's safe to do things like that when we're alone.

We both look up the stairs when we hear the door open. Tonks calls down.

"Hermione, Severus, you two need to get up here or you'll miss the countdown. We've got the champagne ready."

"We're on our way," I call up to her.

Severus gathers up his papers and packs away the calculator into the silver plastic box. He puts it in the cabinet and wards it. I can hear Molly calling quite loudly as she starts the countdown at ten. More voices join in by seven. Severus and I start towards the stairs at five. By three we are halfway up the stairs. We are almost to the top when we hear cheers. It must be midnight.

I pause, take a breath, turn around and smile. Severus is standing right behind me. He's wearing his frock coat, all buttoned up and Victorian looking. His hair is oily from being around bubbling cauldrons all day. His eyes are as black as ever and I can see the lines around his eyes, a bit more pronounced for being tired. He's surprised that I've stopped and turned around, looking a little wary.

"It's traditional," I whisper. Severus is two steps below me, so I'm taller than he is for the moment. I gather every bit of that Gryffindor courage I've ever had and place my hands on his shoulders to balance myself. I lean forward and tilt my head. He seems to realize what I am doing and tilts his head slightly to the side. My lips come to his and I kiss him gently. When I open my eyes, his are still closed.

"Severus! Hermione! Get up here for our toast." This time, it's Molly.

Severus opens his eyes. We look for a moment. He's not angry, just surprised. I've used up all of the courage I have. I remove my hands from his shoulders and turn, dashing up the stairs. He is still standing there when I reach the door and walk into the hallway. Oh Merlin, I hope that's a good sign. I hope he's stunned and pleased and not stunned and appalled.

A few moments later, Severus has joined us. We are in a circle, Albus, Poppy, Minerva, Moody, Arthur, Molly, Remus, Tonks, Severus, and me. I am standing between Minerva and Arthur. Severus is opposite of me. He is looking at me and I can't read his expression. We each have a glass of champagne held out for the toast and Albus speaks.

"May this be the year we achieve peace."

---------------------

Author's Notes

This story has been completely accurate regarding moon phase until this chapter. The full moon actually arrived December 31, 1998. I needed Remus to be human for New Years Eve. My apologies to everyone for fiddling with the space-time continuum and reordering the universe. That's just not the sort of thing I do on a regular basis.

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I've received a number of questions via e-mail and through reviews regarding the Occlumency lesson in Chapter 44. I am a hypnotist, professionally trained and certified to practice. I do it strictly as a hobby, having no time for a private practice. I'd rather spend my limited free time writing.

In HP fandom, it is typically assumed that Severus Snape has a deep sensual voice. Alan Rickman, who portrays him in the movies, has a wonderful voice. In fact in a movie he made in 1994, Rickman played the role of the Franz Anton Mesmer. Mesmerism was all the rage in the 1800's and was the basis of modern hypnosis. With that kind of voice and voice control, Severus Snape would be a natural as a hypnotist.

I did not include a script for inducing trance in the chapter, but I did create a script for taking emotion out of a memory and creating a place to put those memories that would keep others from finding them. It you have a soothing voice, isn't terribly hard to help someone relax enough to achieve a trance state. It is much more difficult to figure out what to say to the person once you've got them there.

I have used the method for taking emotions out of memories from techniques used in Neurolinguistic Programming and hypnosis to help subjects with smoking cessation or gaining control over a food craving.

_In your mind's eye, see the cigarette turn to black and white, flavorless, cold, and flat. It has no fragrance, the smoke has no flavor, it is lifeless._

Imagine, if you will, that the chocolate has no color, no scent, no flavor, no texture. 

The idea is to take something that is multisensory and make it flat and lifeless. It reduces the attraction of the object. Doing this in one's imagination is almost as effective as finding a way to do it in real life. That is why guided imagery works.

As for creating the wine cellar as a place to hide memories, it is a common technique in hypnosis to suggest that rooms contain memories and one need only open the door to obtain them. I simply adjusted this technique to suggest that memories could be placed here to keep them from being accessed by Legilimancy.

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Much of the speculation about Remus and how he copes withbeing a werewolf is not from canon. We know about the Shrieking Shack, but not much else.

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As always, thank you for taking the time to review: Lady Rhian (A new Multifaceted Award Winner – Congratulations, girlfriend), Bakaonigirii, Ami Mizuno1, Jocemum, Wynnleaf, Soul Chaser, Maddie50, Muggle-to-the-Max, MollysSister, Evil Mastermind 666, Green-Eyed-Angel, Littlecoporol, PhoenixFlight, HPWylie, Duj, Silenthavens, Pinkwands, Severus-Fan, Ashvuck, Lyndie578, Rinnie08, Beate, SlytherinChick 101, Excessivelyperky, Siren34, Droxy, Arime Setta, B7-kerravon, Joani-The-Unique-Being, and Hebi R., and Me613 (who is reviewer #666).


	46. Chapter 46

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia and Jocemum for their wise counsel.

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**WARNING **

There is a reason this story is rated "M". There is considerable nastiness in the last section of this story. If this sort of nastiness troubles you, please skip that section. Events taking place will be referred to in future chapters without the detail.

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Severus

January 9th, 1999

"Happy birthday, Severus," says Minerva as she sits down beside me at the head table. "I believe this is forty, is it not?"

"Perhaps," I answer, knowing full well Minerva could probably tell me exactly what is written on my birth certificate, including my birth weight and the name of the midwife who delivered me. I have a very nice egg scramble on my plate with sausages and toast along with a dish of mixed fresh fruit and I intend to address them with good appetite. I also have a glass of pineapple juice at hand (I cannot abide pumpkin juice) and a cup of Earl Gray.

"I remember my fiftieth birthday," she continues. "I had breakfast right here. A poached egg with hollandaise sauce, I believe. I always have a poached egg with hollandaise and a crumpet on my birthday, since that is my favorite breakfast. I had probably taken my first bite when the first howler arrived. It was from my cousin Mercy and it sang the Happy Birthday song. The second was from my brother-in-law Fergus and it wished me a very merry day. I don't remember what all the others said, but there was one from Albus, another from Pomona, Filius sent me one, several of my relatives, and so on. There were forty of them in all. Fifty howlers, one right after the other. My ears were ringing before it was all over. The students found it quite amusing."

By this time, I know I am looking at Minerva in horror. She would not dare. They would not dare. What is truly frightening is I know they would dare and I would be mortified. My only hope is they fear retribution enough to show some restraint.

"Alas," says Minerva, "I was not organized enough to get forty of them together." She looks at me with a suspiciously Albus-like twinkle in her eyes. "And some seemed to fear retribution when I suggested it."

Thank you, Merlin. Sometimes having a reputation pays off.

"However, a few of your friends decided to recognize this day anyway. Realizing it would not be appreciated if the owls started dropping things in the middle of your fruit cup…. Are those raspberries? I do so enjoy raspberries, but you cannot get decent ones in January. The elves must have preserved them for you in anticipation of your birthday. Some of them are so thoughtful."

"Minerva," I growl.

"Oh yes, dear boy. Some of us decided that your fortieth birthday mustn't go unobserved and since it is a Saturday, there will be two celebrations. One will be here in the staff room at 5 pm before dinner and then there will be a get-together tonight at headquarters in your honor."

That will be fine. I simply shan't go and they may have the celebrations without me.

"In case you have in mind to fail to show up, Albus has promised that we may move the parties to your quarters. He will lower the wards on your rooms and we will bring balloons, party favors, and all sorts of pleasant things to decorate with. I have a very nice _Happy Birthday, Severus_ sign all made up with the letters enchanted to look like winking snakes with long eyelashes. It would look especially nice over your fireplace."

"Minerva." This time it is somewhere between a grumble and a plea for mercy.

"Of course, I am certain you will come to the celebrations and have a pleasant time, including blowing out the candles on your birthday cakes, so it will not be necessary to redecorate your quarters."

I know spells that can take those lit candles and incinerate the cakes. That could cheer me up immensely.

"Minerva, please." I do my best to keep the whinging from my voice.

"So, I know we can count on you tonight, Severus. You should eat your eggs before they get cold."

I spear a piece of the scramble and bite it rather viciously, since I am not permitted to bite Minerva. I asked Albus once if I might be allowed to bite other staff members and he gave me an odd look.

Surely he did not think I meant Trelawney, even if she does make a point of propositioning me at most staff parties. The thought of having sex with Sybil Trelawney is one of the reasons I have lived celibate for years at a time.

"What time?"

"Pardon?"

"What time am I supposed to arrive at headquarters? Is this supposed to be a surprise party?"

"You should be there at eight. This is not a surprise party, as everyone thought you might react a bit strongly and start hexing everyone. As it is, you may not blow up your cake."

"I will not blow up the cake."

No. I will incinerate it.

"You will be nice to everyone who is there."

"You push me too far, Minerva. I am known to be a Death Eater," I whisper in an emphatic, but hushed tone.

"Very well, you have to be nice for half an hour. Then you may be grumpy."

"If I am nice for an hour and no Unforgiveables are cast, may I leave?"

"If you blow out the candles nicely after we sing you _Happy Birthday_, you may leave after you open your presents. You must say 'thank you' for the presents."

"Will you arrange for my Slytherins to be properly supervised after I am admitted to a locked ward at St. Mungo's? And tell the healers I prefer calmatives with a nice narcotic in them?"

Minerva reaches over and pats my hand.

"I promise."

Happy birthday, Severus.

-----------------------------

I have survived the first of my birthday parties. I arrived in the staff room precisely at 5 pm as required. There were quite a few drinks passed around and I was regaled with stories about 'I remember when you first came here' from Albus, Filius, and Minerva.

The only thing that prevented Trelawney from sharing one is that she arrived late, that insectoid phony. She did, however, predict that I would have a most pleasant birthday, followed by a polite smattering of applause from the other staff present.

I must be certain to add Trelawney-specific wards to my quarters before I leave tonight to ensure she does not attempt to make herself a gift to me as a means of making my birthday more pleasant. Pustules, perhaps?

Fortunately, the staff seemed to understand that there really were limits as to how far I should be pushed about this birthday business. Cake was served, but I was not expected to blow out any candles, nor was I serenaded with the Happy Birthday song. This was for the best, because it was a most excellent Black Forest gateau and it would have been a shame to torch the whole thing.

No one brought me presents, another source of relief. I do not care to be beholden to any of the staff and get caught up in that remembering of each other's birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and all the rest. Just the thought of it gives me a migraine.

Albus and Minerva have already given me gifts in private. I cannot imagine under what circumstances I will wear a _Potions Masters Do It In The Dungeons_ t-shirt, but the black socks will be useful. Minerva, on the other hand, gave me a set of long johns with winking snakes on them. I suppose she wanted them to match the _Happy Birthday, Severus _sign she has hanging in the staff room. For some reason unknown, Minerva is fixated on giving me long underwear with animated characters on it.

I was reasonably polite and no hexes were thrown for an hour. At that point, we adjourned to the Great Hall for dinner, which was a relief to all. One down, one to go.

No announcement of my birthday was made to the students. Fortunately everyone who would have any awareness of my birth date knows woe would befall them should any mention of it be made to the little cretins.

Dinner is quite good. I am partial to prawns and they are prepared with a garlic butter sauce, a favorite of mine. It always pays to be reasonably decent to the house elves.

There is something of a lull in the conversation, which is good, because I have been as social as I care to be and have used up my store of civility. Now, I must re-energize, as Hermione would say, if I am going to make it through the second gathering tonight at headquarters.

Just thinking of Hermione draws me down the path of thought I have followed repeatedly since New Year's Eve.

Hermione kissed me.

She stopped on the stairs, made a decision to turn around, and kissed me. If she chose to kiss me, it cannot be that she finds me repulsive, revolting, or any of the other adjectives I normally hear ascribed to me. She said it was tradition, but she did not kiss anyone else that night. If she kissing me only as a friend, she could have kissed me on the cheek. She did not. She kissed me on the lips, a gentle and maidenly kiss.

Had I not been utterly gobsmacked at that moment, I should have put my arms around her and kissed her properly. It would have answered my question one way or the other. She would have been revolted and backed off, which would have told me my desire for her has no future. Or, she might have responded by wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me back.

Is it possible Hermione is….interested? We have spent a good deal of time together and I have probably been less cranky and distant with her than I have with anyone outside of Minerva or the Malfoy family in a long time.

Right. A kind and rather gentle young woman would take an interest in a man she knows to be a Death Eater.

We do have common interests. Potions, obviously, especially research and development. We are both scholars at heart and we agree we are both introverts. We enjoy reading. We both cook as a hobby. We have few friends and are intensely loyal to the ones we do have.

We both experience a good deal of guilt. A good portion of mine is justified, while hers is not.

We share the experience of a murdered parent, she has two and I have one. The other was a murderer who committed suicide, which is not a commonality in any way.

And I have participated in kidnapping, rape, and murder. Oh yes, there is a selling point, even if it was twenty years ago.

She knows I have tried to make up for what I did. Merlin knows, I have saved Potter's hide several times and have the scars to prove it. I've protected the dunderheads for years. In the course of it, I have protected her. I would trade my life to protect her, if it came to it.

I have to stop this kind of thinking. I am confusing physical desire with romantic interest. It is most likely that is all this is. My interest in Hermione probably lies more in the fact that she is young, untouched, and I have not been with a woman in more than a year.

Her interest in me is probably based on the fact that she is ripe for the picking and the boys her own age lack the maturity to interest her. Her social life is limited and New Year's Eve is an example of it. She spent the prime dating night of the year with a group of people who range in age from twenty-five to one hundred and fifty.

Remus and I were the youngest males present and he is committed to Nymphadora. That is probably all there is to it. She kissed me, because the only other uninvolved male there was Mad-Eye Moody and a woman should have someone to kiss on New Year's Eve.

I am disappointed to think of the kiss in this way. I want to believe she could be interested. The kiss felt like she was interested. I suppose it would be wrong to use Legilimens to find out for certain.

It is so damn dangerous to think of being involved with Hermione. If the Dark Lord saw any part of it in my head, I would be a dead man. There is nowhere I can be with her except at headquarters.

Any attempt at courting her would be witnessed by her two idiot friends and the inner circle of the Order. Oh, they would certainly be in favor of it. The thought of Severus Snape courting, let alone touching Hermione Granger would send half of them into apoplexy and the other half into attacking me.

The potions lab in the cellar is such a romantic setting, just what every young woman dreams of. Along with a man who is twice her age, used to be her teacher, dresses in black, has a Dark Mark on his arm, greasy hair unless washed at four hour intervals, a nose that enters the room thirty seconds before the rest of him, a body crisscrossed with hex scars and cigar burns, treats her friends badly, and has the overall temperament of a manticore. How is that for a list of personal assets?

I would like to think there is more to me than just that and I have never had a chance to be what I could be were I not a spy. When this damn war is over and if I somehow manage to survive it, I wonder if she would allow me to court her? I could do it properly then with time spent together, dinners, and all the things there are no place and little time for now.

And then the first time we argue, slap her into submission.

I would not do that. I do not believe I would do that.

What if I did?

If she does not kill me, her friends would. Then, I would probably be required to haunt the dungeons to expiate my sins.

What if I did?

I would break it off with her. I promise myself and all the gods that be that I would break it off if I was ever tempted to hurt her. I would know I am unfit to have a relationship with any woman.

I would not do it. I would not hurt her like that.

I look down at my dinner, which I must have stopped eating a while ago. My appetite has diminished significantly.

Happy birthday, Severus.

-------------------------

I am surviving the second of my two birthday celebrations. Molly Weasley made an excellent chocolate cake. No one sang the Happy Birthday song, but she did hum it as she brought pieces of the cake around for everyone. My gift from the group is a fine bottle of brandy. The company tonight is tolerable, with just Minerva, Arthur, Molly, and Remus. Much to my good fortune, Potter and Weasley have managed to be elsewhere.

They are treating tonight as just another meeting of the Order, minus Albus. This is acceptable to me, since I do not have to pretend to be sociable. There is discussion of the lack of activity on the part of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. I am not at liberty to discuss Lucius' observations with the group. As far as I know, only Remus is privy to what we learned during that meeting.

It is a bit after 9 pm when the meeting is adjourned. I am pleased at the thought of getting back to my quiet dungeons, where I intend to spend the rest of my birthday with a book. The others are leaving as Remus mentions there is a package for me down in the laboratory.

Hermione. It would have to be from Hermione, but how would she know of my birthday? Foolish question on my part, given she could discover the identity of a seven-sided cloverleaf from New Zealand.

I am careful to keep my expression neutral. It would not do to act as if a gift from Hermione would please me. In fact, the wise thing to do would be to leave it where it is and go back to Hogwarts. I could come back later in the week and retrieve it. I reconsider. There might be another way.

"Good," I reply to Remus, "Hermione must have finished the research I asked her to do before she left."

"Probably," answers Remus. He turns away and takes a second piece of cake, being a werewolf with a sweet tooth.

"I shall go and look over her work."

Remus does not answer, having a mouthful of cake.

I proceed down into the cellar where a brown paper wrapped package is sitting on the laboratory table. I pull over a stool, sit down, and proceed to unwrap it.

Another silver plastic box. I open the lid and see a flat round object with plastic wrapped wires coming out of it. The whole thing is encased in the same kind of plastic wrapping as the calculator. I take it out and examine it. There is a note at the bottom of the box.

"It's a compact disc player. They call them CDs," says Remus, leaning against the post by the stairs. He has the plate of cake in his hand.

"What is a CD player?"

"It plays music," Remus shakes his head. "Do you realize Muggles have got rid of eight track players?" He nods towards the object in my hand. "This actually does sound better."

"How does it work?"

"You have to leave the plastic sleeve on, which you already know from the calculator," he answers, "The CD is already in it and you can't take it out without removing the plastic, which does limit your choices of music. You have to go to a non-magical environment to put in a different CD. A CD is similar to a record album, only smaller and it is played with a laser instead of a needle. The technology is completely different and I have no idea how it works, but you don't have to be as careful with a CD player as you do with the Victrola. You have to put those earplugs in to hear it."

I insert these odd looking earplugs. Rather awkward, I think. I push the _on_ button. I do not hear anything.

"Push the _play_ button," Remus instructs.

I push the play button and then I hear it. Incredible. The music sounds like it is playing in the middle of my brain. I have not heard this song in years.

"What did she give you?" asks Remus.

"Queen," I answer.

"I could squeal like a little girl," says Remus, "She gave me Billy Joel. Can I listen when you're done? After all, you can't take it back to Hogwarts."

He waits for an answer. I wait, listening.

"Well?"

"I am waiting for you to squeal like a girl," I reply in full snark.

"Let me practice that a little. I have no pride, I could howl for you," Remus laughs. "What song are you listening to?"

"Bohemian Rhapsody."

"I'll let you listen to Billy Joel on mine if I can listen to Queen on yours."

"Deal."

"Mine's upstairs, I'll be right down."

With Remus on his errand, there is a chance for me to look at the note inside the box. I open it and recognize her writing.

_Happy Birthday, Severus_

_If you were on a college campus in the seventies and eighties, you must have heard this music. Queen is one of my all time favorites. This is a compact disc player and all of the directions for using it are in that booklet. Plus, you have to make sure you keep the plastic on it unless you are in a non-magical environment. You can't change the CD unless you are away from headquarters. You already know what will happen if you take it to Hogwarts._

_By the way, I found out your birthday from Remus. I bribed him with a Barry Manilow CD. Do with him as you will._

_Have a wonderful birthday and I will see you soon_.

_Hermione _

I am so pleased Hermione bribed Remus to find out when my birthday is. That _must_ mean she is interested. I can hear Remus upstairs and slip the note into a pocket in my robes.

Remus trots down the stairs and has a silver box in his hand. He opens it up and brings out a player that looks like mine, but is blue. Mine is silver, an excellent choice.

"Barry Manilow, indeed," I smirk.

"Great music and a very good voice." Remus starts to sing in his less than talented voice, "I remember all my life, raining down as cold as ice…"

"Did you know the song was written in memory of a beagle? And Manilow sings it much better than you, if what you did could even be described as singing."

"A beagle?" Remus chuckles, "No wonder I like that song so much. How did you learn about that?"

"I was one of the few Death Eaters the Dark Lord allowed to integrate into Muggle society by virtue of taking chemistry classes at the university. I actually read the student published newspaper in an effort to blend in. There was an interview with Manilow in it once."

Remus gives me a wolfish grin.

"I am trying to picture you wearing blue jeans and Doc Martens integrating into a Muggle University."

He shakes his head at the impossibility of the image.

We both burst into laughter.

The Dark Mark burns like red-hot coal on my wrist.

Happy birthday, Severus.

--------------------------------

Nastiness alert – You have been warned.

--------------------------------

The Dark Mark burns on my wrist pulling me to the Dark Lord, using pain to compel me to his side. I seize my Death Eater robes and mask I keep in the bedroom I use when I stay in London. I leave headquarters behind as I apparate to the unknown location controlled by the pull on the Mark.

It is cold, wherever this is. I do not believe I am still in England. There are mountains here. It is heavily forested and there are several inches of snow on the ground. I appear to be standing in a valley between two of the mountains with a cabin before me. Peering through the darkness, I can see a light in a window and I can only assume this is my destination.

Only a wizard could travel here, there appear to be no roads, and little in the way of a path. By pausing, I only delay the inevitable and risk the wrath of the Dark Lord. I walk towards the cabin, listening and watching for any sign of other Death Eaters. As I approach the cabin, the door opens and Pettigrew stands in the doorway, his misshapen frame backlit from the flickering light, a glint off his silver hand.

I nod to him as I approach the door.

"Pettigrew."

He sneers at me.

"Your mask is not required, Snape. You have a personal interview with the Dark Lord tonight."

He steps aside and ushers me in the doorway. I reach up and remove the silver Death Eater mask.

The cabin is an illusion for anyone who might see it. The interior appears to be a hunting lodge, as elegant as the nobility of a few hundred years ago would expect. A stuffed bear stands in the entryway, glass eyes reflecting the light, teeth bared in a perpetual snarl.

Pettigrew escorts me into the parlor, if that is what such rooms are called in a hunting lodge. There is an enormous fireplace at the end of the room, tall and wide enough for a centaur to travel through. In front is a cluster of chairs, tall and winged, covered in a heavily brocaded fabric. Two sofas are placed in the center of the room, facing each other. A large table made of a heavy carved wood, so dark it is almost black, is at the other end of the room. Equally dark carved chairs are around it, waiting for guests. A carpet is on the wood floor, woven with esoteric symbols and runes.

This is a magical room and crackles with the energy of it. A sideboard holds a number of decanters and a tray with breads, cheese, meat and fruit. Were this not an abode of the Dark Lord, I would think it a rather hospitable room.

I hear a noise behind me and turn to see Nagini slithering into the room. If she is here, the Dark Lord cannot be far behind. Pettigrew is nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome, Severus."

The voice comes from the grouping of chairs by the fireplace. I turn to see the Dark Lord sitting in the chair closest to the fire. I did not see him when I came into the room. Did he glamour himself so he could not be seen or did he apparate into the room?

I move swiftly across the room to make my expected obeisance, dropping to one knee and bowing my head to Voldemort. I await his word before I may speak.

I can feel his claw like hand on my head, brushing my hair. I am uncomfortable under his touch. The Dark Lord does not do this sort of thing and I fear what it might imply.

"Welcome on the occasion of your birthday, Severus."

The hand drops from my head and is held out for me to take. I place my hand beneath his like a supplicant before the Pope and bow my head to kiss his ring. I raise my head to meet his gaze. My mental barriers are in place and I school myself into calm to allow the psychic invasion I know will take place.

"I am honored at your summons, my lord," I say with all the sincerity I can muster.

"It has been several weeks since we have met, Severus. There are a number of things I wish to discuss with you privately," he answers in a soft hiss.

I feel the mental invasion begin. The Dark Lord sees me eating cake with the other staff at the birthday celebration, deducting points from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor when I catch two students engaged in an illicit encounter in an alcove behind a gargoyle, the Headmaster expressing concern about Potter's performance in Auror's training, standing over a cauldron brewing Blood-Replenishing potion for the infirmary, discussing theories of warding with Bill Weasley, Minerva sipping from a tumbler of firewhisky in the chair opposite of my own in the sitting room.

The Dark Lord releases my mind. With his snake-like features, it is difficult to read his expression. I cannot tell if he is pleased or not.

"So Dumbledore is concerned about Potter's performance in Auror training?" asks Voldemort.

The Dark Lord has accepted Albus and my staged conversation about an incident set up by Shacklebolt and Potter to give fodder to the Death Eater sympathizers within the Aurors. It is our intent to keep the Dark Lord believing Potter's loyalty to Dumbledore is wavering and his self-discipline along with it.

"The boy's impulsiveness continues to affect his reliability. He has already been disciplined once for taking matters into his own hands instead of following procedures," I report. "If he continues to behave in this manner, he could find his Auror apprenticeship terminated."

"This coincides with information I have received through other sources," says Voldemort. "Have you eaten, Severus?" The Dark Lord does not await my answer. "Perhaps you could serve both of us while I pour the wine."

This is wholly unexpected. The Dark Lord might allow his servants to eat in his presence, but I have not known Voldemort to eat in front of us. Nor have I known him to request service, rather than order it.

However, I am the servant here and not permitted to ask about my master's motivations. I incline my head to the Dark Lord.

"It is my privilege to serve you, Master. May I know your preferences, my lord?"

"Perhaps cheeses and fruit this evening," he answers absently, as though his mind is elsewhere.

I rise and walk over to the table where I take two plates and begin to fill them with an assortment of foods. From the corner of my eye, I can see Voldemort magically manipulating a bottle of wine to remove the cork and to fill two glasses. Leaving my own plate on the table, I bring one to the Dark Lord, bowing as I serve him. He accepts it and I step back to retrieve my own. I return to my chair and he gives me leave to sit.

Voldemort selects slices of apple and eats, elaborating on his intelligence about Potter.

"My sources within the Aurors tell me that Potter has not pleased his superiors by his behavior. He has been described as arrogant and spoiled."

"Dumbledore indulged the boy while at Hogwarts. There is little surprise he would expect the same sort of treatment from the Aurors."

"As you suggested, I have assigned a few of our sympathizers to seek out Potter and befriend him. We may be able to influence him in ways that might bring him to us, thus shortening his life expectancy and relieving me of an annoyance," replies Voldemort.

I make a mental note to tell Albus to instruct Potter to make a list of everyone among the Aurors who has tried to befriend him.

"I have not seen Potter at Hogwarts since the Leaving Ceremony." This is quite true. "I have been unable to learn where he is living. Even with McGonagall's excessive drinking, she retains enough judgment to withhold the information. Although the location is Secret-Kept, she could potentially disclose the general area where he is housed."

"You have encouraged her use of alcohol?" Voldemort offers me a glass of wine.

I accept the glass, inclining my head in appreciation.

"Thank you, my Lord. I have encouraged her abuse of alcohol. I invite her regularly to my quarters for drinks and have made a point of showing up to hers with a bottle of one of her favorites in hand. It has been effective in establishing a greater level of rapport and sharing of confidences," I suggest slyly.

"Have you considered seducing her? Combining her alcohol abuse with a sexual relationship might give you even greater influence over her. She may be more inclined to reveal Dumbledore's secrets."

The Dark Lord is looking at me expectantly. I am keeping my expression carefully attentive, hiding my horror at this suggestion. He has no idea he is asking me to seduce someone I view as the next best thing to a mother. I pretend to be mulling over his recommendation. I must acknowledge it in a positive way or suffer consequences. I steeple my fingers and hold them before my lips and choose my words carefully.

"Once again, Master, you see strategies in ways the rest of us miss. I never considered such a possibility, but you are right. I am hardly an attractive man to most women, but to a woman more than thirty years older than I, it could be different. She might be grateful for the attention from a young man. I could do it under the guise of being drunk the first time and we could discover a grand passion for each other after that. I could use the necessary potion to ensure I function properly for the occasion." I laugh and lean forward to show enthusiasm. "Brilliant, Master, absolutely brilliant. I would never have thought of it."

Voldemort laughs in response, his slit of a mouth twisted into a parody of a smile.

"I knew there would be benefit from a meeting of just the two of us, Severus. We so rarely have the opportunity to talk. It is my responsibility to provide insights and new directions to my followers."

"For which we are all grateful, my lord."

"You will begin this new tactic immediately," directs Voldemort.

"I shall, Master." I hope Minerva is willing to stage some memories for the Dark Lord's benefit. I do not believe I would be physically able to do the deed with Minerva if my life depended on it, which in this case it does.

The Dark Lord lifts his glass of wine and offers a toast.

"To new opportunities and to your fortieth birthday, Severus."

I raise my glass and touch it to his.

"I am grateful for your blessing, Master."

We both take a sip of our wine.

Voldemort rises and stands over me. I assume I am to be dismissed and start to rise. He reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder, pressing me back down into the chair.

"I will honor you beyond this, Severus." The Dark Lord is looking at me intently, his hand on my shoulder. I do not permit myself to shudder in fear.

"You accepted the Dark Mark and gave me your fealty when you were seventeen. Tonight, as you are forty, I will renew your vows to me and reinforce your bond."

Voldemort's voice is silky, seductive, and sends a wave of terror through me.

There is only one way he can renew the bond. If I go through with it, his ability to inflict pain on me through the Dark Mark will be renewed, made stronger, and I will be even less able to resist a summons. Every instinct I have tells me he has been thinking of this for a while, perhaps since he threatened to rape me in the cemetery last summer. He has been planning this and I am his evening's entertainment.

"You will obey me, Severus, in this as in all things," he hisses. "Come over to the table and prove your loyalty to your master."

Voldemort lifts his hand from my shoulder. I am grateful my robes hide the trembling of my knees. The reality is that I cannot stop the Dark Lord from doing this thing to me. I am a strong wizard, but in terms of Dark power, he is the most powerful wizard I have ever seen. I will not win in a one-to-one duel and he will kill me if I show anything other than complete cooperation with an act I find utterly repellent. Do I save my own life at the price of acquiescence to being sodomized by a psychopath?

I have no choice. If I die to save myself from rape, I cost the Order one of only two sources of information and they will not trust Lucius. I rise and bow to the master to whom I swore fealty when I was a boy, the master who raped me when I was seventeen. Merlin, help me, I must live through this again and hope I can survive what he does to me.

"It is an honor and privilege to serve you, my lord and to renew my oath of fealty." My voice does not shake as I say this. I do not know how my fear and revulsion does not show.

Voldemort stands beside me at the trestle table. He looks into my eyes and the psychic invasion begins again.

He is walking through my mind and he sees me moving through the Forbidden Forrest, looking for nightshade, sitting at breakfast this morning eating strawberries from the fruit cup, walking with Lucius into the dining room at Malfoy Manor, the fear in my expression at my initiation, offering Minerva a cigar, lecturing the Seventh Years on the common errors made in brewing contraceptive potions, inspecting potion ingredients in an apothecary in Hogsmeade.

Voldemort blinks and withdraws from my mind.

"You fear my touch, Severus," murmurs Voldemort, leaning forward and whispering in my ear. "It is well that you should." His hand brushes my hair back. "Lean forward and put your hands on the table."

It requires all my self-control to obey. My hands are on the table and I lean forward. I lower my head and my hair falls forward, masking my face. I close my eyes. I feel hands running down my back and then a whisper.

"Divestio."

I am naked. I open my eyes for a moment and see my clothes before me on the table, neatly folded. Voldemort's hands are caressing my back. My stomach turns with revulsion and I feel bile in the back of my throat.

I feel his breath against my neck as his finger traces the long scar across my shoulder blades.

"You have beautiful scars, Severus," he whispers against my skin. My skin crawls and I pray he interprets my shudder as desire.

"Do you fear what I do to you?" Voldemort hisses.

"I fear your power, Master." My voice is trembling as I answer. I am cold and completely vulnerable, standing naked with pure evil behind me. "I contained your power poorly when you brought me into mystical union with you the first time."

"That is so," the whisper continues, "You screamed beautifully. There is beauty in pain when it is perfectly delivered and received."

His hands are on my buttocks. I feel his long claw-like fingers stroking my cheeks. He reaches up with one hand and pushes me down so my chest is against the cold table.

"Will you scream for me again, Severus? You have such beautiful screams."

He insinuates his foot between mine and pushes my legs apart. His hand is still against my back, holding me down. Merciful heaven, help me. His finger is moving down and he is pushing his way in. Merlin, it hurts, that damn claw hurts. Merciful Mother, help. I am trying not to cry out.

"Scream for me, Severus," he whispers. "It so pleases me when you scream."

He withdraws his finger and uses two on me.

I scream in pain.

It feels like he is tearing me with his fingernails. Please, Lady of the Lake, stop him, stop him.

The fingers are gone, a moment of relief. The fabric behind me rustles. Voldemort is opening his robes. Beads of sweat run down my face. Fear runs cold down my spine.

He is rubbing himself against me, but I do not feel what should be there. He is rubbing harder.

"Scream for me," he hisses. He is angry now. He digs his claws into my back.

I cry out in pain and fear.

The rubbing continues. It is not sufficient to accomplish what he wants.

Voldemort hisses. I cannot tell if it is pleasure. He is pushing at me. I clench my jaw and I know I am shaking.

He is pushing, but not penetrating. He cannot get inside of me. His fingers claw deeper at my back and he is pushing, pushing and it is not working.

"Scream, Severus. You are not pleasing me." His voice is rising and he is angry. "You are mine; it is your duty to please me."

This time his claws cut into me, running down my back.

I scream.

"Harder, Severus. Open yourself to me." He is screaming in anger. His claws are in my back, slicing ribbons out of my back.

I am terrified. He will kill me if he cannot do this. I try to relax. Fear washes through me. This is not going to work, he cannot rape me and I will die.

He is screaming so loud, my ears ring. I hear Pettigrew running into the room.

"On your knees, Peter," roars Voldemort.

I hear a scrambling beside me and Voldemort's hand is off my back. He's turning away from me and I hear fumbling and then a licking and sucking sound.

Merlin's testicle, the Dark Lord is using Pettigrew to fellate him into an erection. I do not move. I do not wish to see those two animals going at each other.

"You are not trying, you worthless piece of meat," groans Voldemort.

The sucking sounds continue. I do not dare to move. I hear the Dark Lord moan and the sucking stops. He turns back to me and I feel him pushing. He is trying to push against me, but he is not getting inside. He rubs himself and pushes harder but what erection he had has failed.

"You are unworthy," he screeches into my ear. "If you were worthy we would complete the ritual. My body knows you are unworthy."

I am a dead man. The Dark Lord is impotent and I will die naked for it.

In a voice that fills the universe, I hear...

"Crucio!"

I collapse onto the floor. In the universe, there is only his voice and pain.

"Crucio!"

I am screaming. I try to take my mind away from my body and the rivers of electric acid running through it. I think of Hermione. Regret. Regret for what will never be.

"Crucio!"

Pain. Pain. Pain.

"Crucio!"

The universe is pain.


	47. Chapter 47

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Many thanks to Julia and Jocemum for their wise counsel.

-----------------------------

Pettigrew and Voldemort

January 9, 1999

"Master," Pettigrew cringed on his knees beside Voldemort.

Voldemort stood over Severus pointing the wand at his head. The monster's robes were open, his gray skin and flaccid member open to the cool air of the room. His hands and shoulders shook with rage.

"Master, we need him."

"He has failed me," screamed Voldemort. "Do you question he has failed me?"

Pettigrew dropped his face to the floor in supplication.

"I question nothing, Master. He has failed you and the mystical union. But he still has knowledge and skills we need. There is no one among us who can do what he does."

Pettigrew raised his head to the Dark Lord. "Master, we need him. There must be an antidote for this and we have not found it. We need what he knows. Any more Crucio and he will die."

"He should die for this failure, for this denial of the union," said Voldemort, his voice hissing with malevolence.

"We need the union, master. The Death Eaters require the union. He may know something to help us regain it," pleaded Pettigrew. "He humbled himself and did not resist. He did not know how to please you, my Lord. He lives like a monk. He screamed when you asked."

Voldemort looked at Snape, writhing on the floor. The only sound to be heard was an occasional whimper as Snape's conscious awareness retreated from the agony of the Crucio . There was a pool of urine on the carpet where he lost control of his bladder.

"He disgusts me now," sneered the Dark Lord. "I will send for Lucius to take him away."

Voldemort shrugged his robes together and stormed from the room. Pettigrew collapsed on the floor in relief.

"You may thank Merlin and me that he did not kill you, Snape. You can't hear me but you owe me a wizard's debt and I will collect it at some point."

He pulled himself to his feet. "I really don't care to see you naked, Snivellus. I've seen you in your underwear before and you haven't changed any for the better."

He pointed his wand at Snape, still lying on the floor, moaning and almost unconscious with muscle spasms. A word or two and the clothes stacked on the table reappeared on Snape's thin frame.

Pettigrew left him and walked to the door, awaiting Malfoy's arrival. He looked into the night, thinking and planning. A form appeared down the path, paused to look around, and moved towards the cabin.

"This way, Malfoy," called Pettigrew.

Lucius Malfoy walked up the path, his Death Eater robes and mask in place, the tips of his blonde hair gleaming in the reflection of the light from the doorway.

"I am here as summoned, Pettigrew," he said in aristocratic tones.

"You are not here to see the Dark Lord this evening. He has retired. Follow me."

Pettigrew walked into the parlor and pointed to Snape, quivering with pain on the carpet.

"You are here to retrieve this one," he said snidely. "Tell him he owes me his life and I intend to collect on a wizard's debt at a time of my choosing."

Malfoy knelt beside Snape.

"Severus," he whispered, brushing the dark hair away from his face. He looked at Pettigrew. "How many rounds?"

"Four, perhaps five."

"Very well."

Malfoy rose to his feet and levitated Snape with a Mobilicorpus. Snape floated before him as they moved out the door.

Pettigrew called after them.

"Happy birthday, Snivellus."

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Author's notes

This was originally part of chapter 46. I decided to separate it into a chapter of its own so the change to third person would be less confusing. I couldn't, in any kind of good conscience, make the readers wait until next week to read this. Hence, tonight's double posting.

Very special thanks are owed to Julia and Jocemum for their critique and advice in finalizing chapters 46 and 47. These were very difficult and very necessary chapters to write. The violence expressed here is abhorrent. As someone who has made a twenty-five year career in human services, to describe this kind of cruelty was difficult, to say the very least. My hope has been to communicate the horror of it, without prurient detail.

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Thank you to all my reviewers. It appears the first kiss was well received by the readers, as well as the participants. The ten-hour workdays I have put in this week interfered with my ability to return messages. Thanks for your patience. Please know your encouragement is one of the best things that happens to me all week: Tranquility (four times over), Latinachikita, Joani-the-unique-being, Belas, Soul Chaser, MollysSister, Emilia, Silenthavens, Siren34, Jocemum, LettyBIRD, beate, Duj, notwritten, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Maddie50, Cs, SSHGDMLOVE, kirien, Evil-Mastermind666, TheBeautifulPadmeAmidala, Ashvuck, green-eyed-angel, Rinny08, SMALLwhitelies, Lady-Rhian, Lyndie578, Hebi R., Me613, Darque Hart, Mugglemomof3, pinkwands, AngieS, Arime Setta, and AMI MIZUNO1


	48. Chapter 48

I own nothing you recognize.

Thank you again to Julia for making this story so much more authentically British than it could possibly be otherwise.

Special thanks to Julia and Jocemum for their help with Chapter 46 and 47. I wanted to communicate the horror and trauma of the assault, but keep the description down to the necessities. Their critique is very much appreciated.

Thank you to all of you who reviewed and offered feedback. The importance of what Voldemort did and couldn't do will be revealed in future chapters.

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Hermione

January 9th, 1999

The library is crowded for a Saturday. I bet it's because the Internet is down in the dormitory. One of the things about having most of the library accessible on-line is the temptation to never go and actually open a book. Most of the students have succumbed to it. I haven't. Looking at words on a computer monitor just isn't the same as having paper and ink beneath your hands. Sometimes, I wonder if the essence of the author is somehow there in the fibers of the paper and the leather of the binding.

Right now, I'm reading another book about neurology. It's a Muggle rather than a wizarding book. I wonder if the medical staff at St. Mungo's read Muggle science? They do use some Muggle technology in wizarding medicine. They gave Arthur stitches that one time he was bitten by Nagini, even if it didn't work very well. I remember another time when Poppy gave an intravenous blood transfusion to Raymond Beecher after he got cut by broken glass when that bludger accidentally came through the window of the Charms classroom. What was it he was allergic to in the Blood Replenishing potion? I don't recall.

Damn. I know full well I'm just filling time this evening. The fact of it is that the party is already over at headquarters and there is no way I could have gone without being completely obvious.

I hope Severus likes my birthday gift. Maybe when I get back to the dorm, there will be a note in the journal.

I miss him. It's only been a little over a week and I miss him. I'm not planning to go back until February when we have a three day weekend for America's President's Day holiday. It is a month away and I miss him already.

This isn't doing me any good. I'm heaving sighs over a man who is celebrating his fortieth birthday today, which makes him twenty-one years older than I am until I reach my birthday in September. Then it is only twenty years for four months.

Merlin, have mercy on me. I am being pathetic.

I absolutely refuse to act like a lovesick ninny. I had enough of that from Parvati and Lavender all those years. Next thing you know, I'll be writing bad love poetry and getting the vapors like they do in those novels. I will hold onto my self-discipline. I will get my mind back on my work.

I'm reading ahead again and what I'm reading has given me an idea. Albus challenged all of us to come up with a weapon to use against the Dark Lord. This might be something we can use. I want to discuss it with Severus the next time I'm home. It's about addiction. It's about how the central nervous system responds to the most potent nar-

Oh, no. The locket is vibrating. It's inside my blouse and I can feel where it rests in my cleavage. One of the members of the Order has been Crucioed. I've got to leave and leave now. I slam the book closed and leave it on the table, grab my backpack, and hurry to the Transportation Room and apparate back to the dorm.

Up in the lift, in through the door, and I toss my backpack onto the desk. Everything I need is Reducioed and packed inside. A quick note on a Post-It to Anita about an emergency back in England, tell teachers if I'm not back on Monday, take care of Crooks, more details to follow. I stick it on the bathroom mirror.

Next, I check to make sure Crooks has plenty of water and food, a swish of the wand over the kitty litter for a clean-up, grab my backpack, throw on my heavy winter coat, and another dash down to the Transportation Room off the lobby.

I pull out the locket Dumbledore charmed as a portkey to bring me to Hogwarts or the London townhouse, wherever the victim is. A few words and I feel the pull behind my naval.

I stumble to the ground as the nausea catches me. Two retches later and the remains of the peach I ate before I went to the library are on the ground in the snow. I look around me. I'm at Hogwarts, right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I can see the lights of the castle in the distance. It is late night here.

No, no. Please, no. It's probably Severus. Couldn't it have been someone else? Now, I feel guilty because I wish it could be anyone but Severus. I run as a fast as I can through the snow.

Keeping low, I hope no one sees me as I come to the entrance Severus told me about. At the base of Astronomy tower, look for the granite boulder. Walk in a straight line from the boulder to the wall. Knock twice; password is _Dreamless Sleep_. The wards are authorized to admit me. A door forms into the wall and opens. I should be at the base of the stairway up the tower. I'm not. Somehow the castle opens from here into the dungeons. Follow the passageway towards the light. Someone's standing at the end of it. I begin to run. It's Dumbledore.

"Hermione. I see combining the signal and portkey into the locket has worked in a satisfactory manner." Albus looks grave. "We need to proceed to Professor Snape's chambers as speedily as we can."

"How bad is it, Professor?" Dumbledore can move surprisingly fast for a one hundred and fifty year old man. I follow behind him.

"Bad enough," he replies in hushed tones. "I suspect Severus took Crucio from Voldemort himself. Based on the severity of his condition, I would surmise at least four rounds in the course of the evening. Hagrid found him unconscious near his cottage and brought him here. He had not regained consciousness when I left his chambers to meet you. Poppy is with him now."

This is not good news. One to three rounds of Crucio generally does not do lasting damage, no matter how excruciating it is. Four or five rounds of Crucio can leave permanent nerve damage. Six or seven Crucios results in enough interference with the central nervous system to produce organ failure and insanity. Anything past that is invariably fatal. It is poor comfort to know Severus has gone through as many as five rounds in one evening and come through it without permanent damage.

We go around a few corners. We are now in a section I recognize, near the Potions classroom. We go past it towards the door I know to be Professor Snape's office. Albus passes it and hurries further down the corridor, stopping at an alcove with a portrait of Anselmus the Unsafe, a Potions professor from three hundred years ago who is best remembered for blowing up most of the classroom and part of the hallway in an experiment gone wrong. Anselmus is sleeping.

"Anselmus," he says, quite sharply. "Anselmus, wake up and let us in. Chamomile blossom."

The portly Anselmus opens his eyes and stretches. He looks at Albus and grumbles something about a rude old goat and the door opens.

We are in another hallway that leads to another door. "Dragon heartstring" says Albus and the door opens.

These must be Severus' private quarters. If I weren't so anxious to see him and begin the treatment, I'd love to take a good look around. We move through the sitting room. Not much registers; a fireplace, sofa, chair, desk, books. Books are everywhere, on shelves, on the tables, on the desk. Another doorway. Albus steps inside and I follow.

"How is your patient, Poppy?"

"In a good deal of discomfort, Albus." Poppy is standing beside a bed. "He comes in and out of awareness."

The bed is a standard Hogwarts' four-poster, but larger than the ones allocated to students. I pay little attention. I'm more interested in the occupant.

Severus is lying there in shirtsleeves and trousers on top of the covers. He is curled on his side and I can see his shoulders shaking. There are no blankets on him, the pressure and contact would add to his pain.

I move next to the bed and kneel down beside it.

Closer now, I can see his hands are curled up to his chest, tremoring. His legs are moving, like a restless sleeper. The curtain of black hair is in front of his face. I hesitate only a moment before I reach up and carefully smooth it away from his face. I don't care that Albus and Poppy are watching. I need to see his face. His eyelids are closed and I can see his eyes moving beneath the lids. His pale skin is pasty and clammy beneath my hand. His breathing is shallow and it's like he is shivering with cold. But, I know he's not cold.

"Severus? Can you hear me?" I speak softly, my hand still holding back his hair. "It's Hermione." His head moves slightly. I can't tell if he can hear me. If he's conscious, he's lost in the pain. My heart is in my throat. He's suffering.

I look up at Poppy and Albus. "Do you have any idea how long ago the Crucio was cast?"

Dumbledore answers; "Hagrid found him about twenty minutes ago. It is likely the last round was cast less than an hour ago."

"It's amazing he was able to get himself here," comments Poppy, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"He used a portkey to return. I doubt he was in any shape to apparate," replies Dumbledore.

I bring my hand back from his face and rise to my feet. "We'll need to get him ready for the cold immersion treatment. Severus said he had everything ready for whoever the victim might be."

Poppy nods towards the nightstand beside the bed. "I've brought everything needed down from the infirmary. Following the instructions, I gave him the first dose of the oral antidote as soon as he arrived. The sedating effect from the muscle relaxant seems to be helping and I daresay the usual cramping is not as severe as it would normally be from such intense Crucio."

"That is very good news," I reply, doing my best to keep my voice calm. "Severus predicted the adjustments to the internal potion would reduce the spasms, if not the pain."

I retrieve my backpack and rummage inside, pulling out what looks like a makeup case. I enlarge it, reach inside, and pull out a pair of red boxer style swimming trunks.

"Poppy, could you get the Professor into these?"

She looks scandalized. "You cannot be serious, Hermione. It would be highly inappropriate for me to allow you to see him wearing such a thing. The Professor would be quite incensed."

I make of point of emphasizing that Severus and I are on a first-name basis.

"Severus has to be completely immersed in the water. The topical potion mixed into the water has to be able to get to his skin to work and it will be too difficult to maneuver him in the water fully clothed. I know he won't like it, but there isn't any other way. The alternative is for me to change him and I think he would really dislike that."

Poppy turns to the Headmaster. "Albus, surely you won't permit this."

They seem to be exchanging meaningful looks.

"Now, Poppy, you have already done the necessary healing," he says soothingly, "Severus agreed to be a test subject for the treatment, as did Remus, Harry, myself, and several others. Any of us who might potentially experience Crucio volunteered. Severus would be in the best position of anyone to understand that a certain state of undress would be required and that Hermione would be a witness to it. Hermione is here as his research partner to implement the treatment and assess its effectiveness. She is a professional and I am confident that she will comport herself as one."

Poppy gives a harrumph and snatches the swimming trunks from my hand. "Very well, Albus, since you direct me to do this. Some privacy please, Hermione."

I look around the room and see a door next to a chest of drawers. "Professor, what do you mean by _necessary healing_?"

He looks at me intently.

"Severus was beaten as well as Crucioed. Poppy dealt with those injuries before you arrived," he explained.

"What did they do to him?" I want to know what those bastards did to Severus. I want to add it to the list of things for which I will some day pay them back. "Is it anything that could impact on the treatment?" That is the more worrisome possibility.

"Poppy says it is unlikely," replied Albus, answering the second question and ignoring the first.

I will see if I can learn more later.

"Albus, is that the bathroom?"

Dumbledore nods and guides me towards it. I pick up the enlarged makeup case and backpack. He opens the door and I go inside.

Wow.

I'll say one thing for the wizarding world. They sure know how to do a bathroom.

Severus' bathroom is all black marble and has a tub built into the floor that is easily as large as the one in the Prefect's bathroom. Which means it is five feet deep at the deepest point and you could swim short laps in it. The first thing I need to do is determine the volume of water in the tub so I can calculate the amount of the cold immersion antidote to put into the water.

Reciting the incantation, I move my wand left to right, up and down and front to back, and then trace the sigil for volume in the air. The numbers shape themselves in front of me. A few mental calculations and I have it. It will take four and one quarter vials of the antidote.

"Headmaster, I need to change my clothes, so if you could give me a minute."

"Very well. I will be with Severus." The door is closed.

My hair goes up into a high ponytail and then into a knot out of the way. I pull off my trainers, shirt, and slacks. The locket comes off. I pull out the outfit I purchased specifically for this purpose.

In a minute, I'm looking at my reflection in a floor to ceiling mirror. The black catsuit fits me like a glove. Not bad. I look pretty curvy in this thing. I wonder what Severus would think if he saw….

No. I cut myself short. I'm here to give a medical treatment, not flaunt myself. Not that he'd really be interested in me anyway. I bend over and carefully tuck my socks into the legs of the catsuit and then add a pair of latex gloves. Well, that takes away from the temptress look. I feel rather silly.

I cast a waterproofing charm on the catsuit from my neck to my toes and all the way down my arms. That should keep the potion off my skin. I open the bathroom door and step back into the bedroom. Poppy turns and looks at me, shocked. Albus looks and bursts into laughter.

"I know this looks funny, but I've got to get into the water to monitor the treatment. Regular clothing won't work very well for that anymore than it would work for the patient. I've waterproofed myself from top to bottom. Is Severus ready?"

"He is ready now. Hermione, you present a sight I shall not soon forget." Dumbledore is in full twinkle mode.

"As long as you don't describe it to anybody, I'll be satisfied."

I walk over to the nightstand and examine the vials. I select five bottles of the external Crucio treatment.

"Poppy, if you could levitate Severus to the bathroom, I'll mix the antidote into the water and get it set to 80 degrees."

"We shall be there momentarily," she responds.

I return to the bathroom and open the vials. I empty four and add one quarter of the other. I set a stirring charm on the water, followed by a cooling spell to bring down the temperature of the water to 80 degrees. Next, I see Albus entering the bathroom. Severus is floating behind him, curled into the fetal position on his side. I can see he is bare, except for the swimming trunks. Poppy enters after him, her wand pointed as she moves Severus.

I put down my wand at the side of the tub where I can reach it and step into the water. I move towards the center where it comes up to just under my breasts. I feel no effects of the Crucio antidote with the waterproof charm on my clothing and the latex gloves. I've already cast a warming charm on myself so the chill in the water does not affect me.

Poppy moves Severus over the water and with a swish, slowly turns him onto his back. He shifts position, letting his arms and legs straighten out. He cries out as his muscles rebel and I can see him trying to pull his shaking limbs back up. My heart does flip flops to see him like this. He's so weak and in so much pain. Poppy is lowering him towards me.

I make my voice calm and soothing. "Severus, it's Hermione," I assure him. "You're in the bathroom and we're getting ready to lower you into the tub. The water is 80 degrees now and we'll cool it down quickly so the external treatment will work. Please just try to relax. I'm right here and I'm going to put my arms under your waist and hips when you get close enough to help get you into the water. Poppy is going to cast a spell to keep you buoyant. You'll be immersed in the water, but you won't sink or fall in. I'll be right here and you'll be safe."

I'm looking up at Severus and can see his back. With him wearing just the swimming trunks, I can see he's too thin for his frame. There's definition in the muscles of his shoulders and his legs and arms look toned. But there's not an ounce to spare on him and I can see his ribs. He's shaking all over and making moaning sounds.

Sweet Merlin, there are scars all over his back. It looks like someone whipped him. There's a fresh set of scars too, like someone took their fingernails and scraped off ribbons of skin.

I'm not going to think about that at present.

He's down to eye level now. My arms are outstretched and I lift them slightly to make contact, but exert no pressure. He's low enough that his feet and right hand have made contact with the water. He startles and then relaxes.

I'm talking to him now. I keep repeating that I'm here, he's safe, and we're lowering him into the water. He's broken the surface of the water and Poppy is lowering him, an inch at a time. The back of his body is in the water.

"I'll cast the buoyancy spell, now," says Poppy.

Severus is lowered further into the water. The back of his head is in and the water moves over his legs and up his torso. I'm supporting part of his weight and in small increments, lower him further in. I can see his face. His eyes are moving rapidly beneath the closed lids, but his features are relaxed. His lips are moving as if he is trying to talk, but no words are forthcoming.

"The buoyancy charm is in place, Severus. I'm going to let the water come up higher. You're fine. You can't sink and I'm right here to keep you steady." His face is above the waterline, but the water covers the rest of his body. My arms are beneath him and I keep talking. He seems to be relaxed and his breathing is steady. The tremors are still there, but he's not trying to curl up like he did in the bed.

Poppy moves to the side of the pool and slowly passes her wand over Severus, taking readings. "His heart rate is elevated, but his blood pressure is dropping to a more normal level. He appears to be relaxing. Muscle spasms are continuing, but are not as severe as they were earlier."

"Severus," I say softly, "The buoyancy charm will keep you right in the position you're in now. I'm going to pull my arms away from beneath you so I can begin cooling the water. You won't sink and I'll be right here next to you."

Slowly, I move my arm out from under his hips. He stays quiet. I remove my arm from under his waist. Severus is still, except for the tremors. I move back slightly and reach for my wand and cast a cooling charm over the water. Two degrees every minute. In five minutes, the water will be down ten degrees to seventy. This is the protocol we agreed to try, based on what was most effective with the rats.

Things are progressing well. Severus is lying quietly in the water, tremoring. We are one minute into the cooling. I'm standing right beside him, talking to him about an article I read in Discover magazine about subatomic particles. Just letting him hear the sound of my voice so he knows I'm here.

Then a cramp hits him and he's flailing in the water. Dropping my wand into the water, I put my arms around him to steady him.

"Severus, it's alright. Just try to relax," I repeat over and over, but he's spasming too hard and the only thing keeping his face out of the water is the buoyancy spell. He's trying to curl up again against the pain. I'm trying to hold onto him, but he's splashing so much and I have to keep the water and potion away from my face.

"We have to cool the water more. Drop the temperature by three degrees per thirty seconds. I have to hang onto him. Hurry, Poppy." I'm watching Severus' face and he's grimacing with the pain, his head thrashing back and forth.

The cooling charm is cast and the water temperature drops. He's still writhing and I can't keep him still. I have to wait to let the potion work, and I can hardly hang onto him. I hear a splash and look up.

Professor Dumbledore is in the water. He's transfigured his robes into something that looks like what I'm wearing except in purple, along with gloves on his hands. He's even tied up his beard and hair and has it pinned up together on top of his head. I can't believe what I'm seeing.

"Professor, I hope to Merlin you've waterproofed what you're wearing."

"I most certainly have, Miss Granger and I've added the warming charm, too." Professor Dumbledore is across from me and has one arm under Severus' shoulder and the other across his waist. I move so I have one arm under Severus' waist and the other under his hips.

"Severus, this is Albus. I am right here with you along with Hermione. You are safe. We will not let you drown." Albus looks at me. "I think we need to drop the temperature further."

"The temperature is down to 74 degrees."

Severus isn't thrashing quite as much. Albus keeps talking to Severus. We're both trying to hold onto him so he doesn't turn himself over and end up face down in the water, but by touching him like this, we're causing him more pain.

"Let's drop the temperature another 5 degrees," I suggest. "If the conflicting message of cold is going to overcome the pain impulses, we're going to have to get colder. Body mass seems to be slowing down the effect of the conflicting impulses of pain and cold."

Albus nods and Poppy drops the temperature. We're down to 69 degrees. After about thirty seconds, it looks like the leg and arm cramping is diminishing and the tremors are slowing. Severus isn't flailing, though he's still twisting.

"I think the pain is getting better in his legs and arms," I murmur to Albus. "They're responding first to the colder temperature, just like we expected. He's still got a lot of pain in his chest and abdomen. I want to drop the temperature again."

"Try it, Hermione."

"Drop it to 65 degrees, Poppy."

Now the water is really cold. Severus is becoming still. I'm looking at his legs and the tremors have stopped. He's becoming limp, just resting against Dumbledore and I.

"I think it's working." Albus looks up and his spectacles are askew. "Severus seems to be calming and relaxing. The cramps have eased considerably."

"It's working for his extremities, but he's still experiencing muscle spasms in his abdomen." I can see his abdominals twitching.

Dumbledore calls out; "Poppy, lower the temperature to 60 degrees for fifteen seconds. I believe we are almost there."

In another few seconds, Severus is lying quietly in our arms. I look up at Albus and smile. "I think we've done it."

I look down again at Severus. His breathing is regular and I can't see any sign of tremors. Now, he's starting to shiver. It is such a relief to see normal shivering in the cold water.

Poppy holds her wand over Severus and gives her readings aloud. "Blood pressure: normal. Heart rate: normal. Respiration: normal. Pain indicators: negative." She looks down at us, smiling. "I am so pleased. We'd best begin raising the temperature. I'll bring it back up to 65 degrees."

"Severus, can you hear me?" I watch for any sign of response. Severus begins to shift slightly. His head moves to the side. He coughs and Dumbledore and I tighten our hold on him. His jaw moves and his eyes are opening. He looks sleepy and rather drugged from the muscle relaxant.

"Severus? How do you feel?"

"Cold." Severus' voice is a rusty whisper. "I am freezing." He's shivering.

"Do you feel any pain?"

"No. I am cold." His eyes are focusing. It looks like he's becoming aware of where he is. He's looking up at me. "Hermione." His teeth are chattering now. He turns his head slightly and looks over to the Headmaster. "Albus?" Severus looks intently. "What the hell have you done to yourself?"

Albus looks down and laughs. "I am quite pleased to see you are sufficiently recovered to comment on my hair. I shall be delighted to comment on yours at some future time."

He looks up at me with a smile and then down to Severus. "I do believe congratulations are in order. You and Hermione appear have been successful in developing a treatment for the after effects of the Cruciatus curse."

Severus coughs again and looks at me. The shivering is worse. "What is the water temperature?"

"It's 65 degrees, now. We saw first effects at 69 degrees. The Cruciatus diminished first in your legs and arms at 69 degrees. We had to drop the temperature fast to 60 to take care of the abdominal and chest pain. We started off slow, but I think the next time we have to do this, we'll drop the temperature faster. The pain is really gone? What about from your face? We kept your face above the water, though you splashed it when you were thrashing about."

"My face feels stiff, but no pain. I was thrashing about?" Severus looked troubled. "I cannot remember."

"It's alright. You just got a little difficult to hang onto. That's when the Headmaster jumped in." I know I've got a silly grin on my face.

"I hope I didn't hurt either of you." Severus is frowning. "I am freezing. Do you think you could start raising the water temperature again?"

"You didn't hurt us, it just got a little sloppy in the water for a while. I think we can start raising the temperature, but we need to do it slowly. If at any point, you start to feel pain again, you will tell us, won't you?" I nod to Poppy. "What do you think?"

"I agree. We can raise the temperature and see what happens." Poppy raises her wand again. "I'm going to raise the temperature by five degrees per minute until it reaches body temperature."

"I believe it should be safe for me to get out of your bathtub, Severus." Dumbledore releases Severus, who is now floating rigidly in the chilly water. I put my hand under his waist, just to hold him steady. Dumbledore wades to the edge of the tub and climbs out.

I can see Severus' eyes following the Headmaster. He's taking in the sight of Dumbledore wearing a bright purple unitard, lavender socks, and rubber gloves, with his beard and hair somehow tied up together in a knot on the top of his head.

The unitard is rather clingy and it's giving me more information than I really need about the physiology of one hundred and fifty year-old wizards. My eyes drop back to Severus' face. It's a much safer place to look. The water is warming.

"Poppy, could I impose upon you to summon Colin Creevy from his summer job at the Daily Prophet? I believe there is a photograph they would like to have." Severus drawls.

"Personally, I think the Quibbler might be a better choice. This could compete with a sighting of the crumple horned snorkack." remarks Poppy.

"Stop it, you two," I chuckle, doing my best to be stern. "If we start laughing in the tub, Severus is going to end up with his lungs full of water."

It's so good to hear Severus sniping at Dumbledore.

Ten minutes later, the water is warm. Albus is gone and Poppy is in the bedroom, getting things ready for Severus. He's dozing, floating comfortably in the warm water. I'm next to him, one arm under his waist. My Accio'd wand is in the other hand, taking readings.

Everything is normal, textbook normal. I'm more relieved than I can begin to say. I look down at Severus. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed, dark hair fanning out around his head in the water. The lines of his face are smoother, his face less harsh. His breathing is slow and rhythmic.

The fear that gripped me when I first arrived is gone. All indications are that Severus will be fine. The four rounds of Crucio he said he received from the Dark Lord do not appear to have done permanent damage. I am hopeful the treatment will diminish the after spasms and pain. I intend to stay as long as I possibly can to make certain.

My heart warms at the thought of having Severus in my care. If I am not permitted to say the words, I can demonstrate my feelings in palpable ways.

I look around just to make sure Poppy hasn't come back. Nope. It's safe to be….curious.

My eyes travel to his chest. There are more scars here, but not as many as I saw on his back. There are two long ones, almost crisscrossed on his torso. One's lighter than the other. He must have got them at different times.

There's a scar that runs across his neck. Someone literally went after the jugular. There are several others, smaller ones, most across his stomach. Severus is so thin. I can see ribs and a light scattering of dark hair. His nipples are erect. I'd like to…. I lick my lips.

His left arm is floating loose in the water. I can see the inside of his forearm, the Dark Mark is there. There's a skull with a serpent crawling out of the mouth. It's distasteful, but no worse than some of the things I've seen tattooed on men's arms in the Muggle world.

Such a dangerous and evil thing, how can it look innocuous at the same time? A horrible mistake that rules Severus' life and the symbol of it is a tattoo in poor taste.

There are other scars on his arms. Most are round. Burns, perhaps? From chemical splatters? But, how could they be on his upper arms and not on his forearms? I lean forward to look closer. Could they be cigarette burns? No, they're too big. I can't figure this one out. I'll have to think about it.

My eyes travel further, to the part of his body covered by the swimming trunks. I look for a clue about proportion. You know what they say about long fingers and large noses. I can't really tell. Of course, he's been in cold water and they say things tend to shrink when they're cold. The trunks are too loose in the water to draw any conclusions. Maybe when we levitate him out and the fabric clings from being wet, I'll be able to see more.

I'm being quite the bad girl, having impure thoughts about my former Potions Professor.

It's all I can do not to giggle out loud and wake him up. The water is still and a few bubbles just issued up from his swimming trunks. I think Severus farted in his sleep. I'm trying so hard to keep quiet, but I just snorted. It doesn't take a sensitive nose to recognize that it was definitely a fart.

Severus Snape is human after all.

Severus has long legs. Like his arms, they are toned and there is nice definition. There's black hair, but he is not very hairy at all. That's good. I don't think lots of body hair is a turn-on. I can see a few scars on his legs, but they look pretty old. Not nearly as bad or as many as on the rest of him.

With all the scars, I can see why Severus dresses the way he does, buttoned up to his chin and sleeves extending a good inch past his wrists. He's hiding both the Dark Mark and his scars.

I'm seeing the scars on his body, but for every single one on his long rangy frame, there's got to be another on his heart. No wonder he keeps his distance. How many times has he been hurt?

He's resting against my arm. Perfectly comfortable, trusting enough to sleep. I wonder what he would do if I moved my hand across his back? Would he let me run my hands down his arms? Stroke his flat stomach? Run my hand beneath the waistband of the swimming trunks?

I'm turned on just thinking about it. My nipples are already hard from being wet in the cool air. They ache. How would it feel if he….if he….if he put his mouth on one?

Would he? Oh. Just thinking about it makes that feeling pool below my stomach. I want to think about this more. I want to live this.

I want to be naked and with him naked and have him touch me and let me touch him and have all this feeling and sensation just be all over him and let him touch me _there_ and I could see him and run my hand down the part I can't see and wrap my hand around him and touch him _everywhere_ and open my legs and let him come inside me and I'd _feel_ him and we'd move and he'd be in me and on me and it would feel so good and I can hardly breathe and Poppy walks into the bathroom.

If I weren't already in Severus Snape's bathtub, I'd feel like I just had bucket of ice water thrown over me.

"I have his bed ready, if you're ready to get Severus out of the tub?" asks Poppy.

Damn.

"Yes, Poppy. I think he's ready." I'm not ready, but he is. "Severus? We need you to wake up now. We're going to take you out of the water and get you into bed."

Severus begins to stir, moving in the still water, shifting as he floats. He opens his eyes slowly and gives me a dreamy smile. "Hermione?" I like that smile, crooked teeth and all.

"I'm right here. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

"Is there any pain?"

"No pain. I feel relaxed." His eyes start to close again.

"Severus, Poppy is going to levitate you out of the water. I'll cast a drying charm and wrap you in a blanket. She'll take you out to your bedroom and get you into bed. If you start to feel any pain, tell us right away and we'll bring you back here. Will you do that for me?

Severus opens his eyes again. "Just want to sleep." His eyes close.

"You'll be able to go right back to sleep in your own bed." I look up to Poppy. "I think we're ready."

She waves her wand and Severus rises out of the water. I step back to avoid being splashed and cast the drying charm. Poppy has Severus floating a few feet above the water. While still in the pool, I transfigure a towel to the size of a blanket and levitate it below him and then up and around so he is cocooned in it. Poppy backs out of the bathroom, levitating Severus after her.

There wasn't a chance to see anything beneath the red swimming trunks to answer my question.

Damn.

Ten minutes later, I'm dry and dressed, and ready to leave the bathroom. I crack open the door and peek out.

"It's alright Hermione. Severus is settled in bed." Poppy is standing over Severus, moving her wand and taking readings. I come and stand beside her. Severus is lying on his side, his back to us. He is snoring softly.

Poppy looks at me curiously, "Readings are normal. I gave him the second dose of the oral treatment and he seems to be sleeping normally. I'm very pleased with how he's doing. If the pain does not return, I would say the cold immersion treatment is a success."

"I hope so. This whole situation is so horrible for him and if this can help with the pain after the Dark Lord decides to torture him, then it was worth it, and for any other victims of Cruciatus."

Poppy crosses her arms, speculation on her face. I don't think I've been obvious. Unless when she came into the bathroom she saw me looking at Severus like a piece of Honeydukes' finest chocolate.

"Of course, you've put him back together so many times after Death Eater meetings, you would be in the best position to know, Poppy." Hopefully a little truthful flattery will allay her suspicions.

"Indeed?" She is looking at me suspiciously. "Well, Severus will need to be monitored but may very well sleep for several hours. You are free to go to the Burrow and spend the night there. If he shows any sign of the pain returning, I will summon you."

I guess that didn't work. I'll try another tactic.

"I've been living in a time zone six hours behind this one. As far as my body is concerned, it's much earlier in the day than it is for you. Why don't I stay and monitor Severus while you get some rest? If he runs into any problems, I can floo you immediately. No one knows I'm at Hogwarts except you and the Headmaster. If I stay in here, no one will find out and raise any suspicions. It will give me time to write up my notes on what we did today."

"There are proprieties which must be observed," she replies. "You are a young woman, a former student, and for you to be in Professor Snape's personal chambers alone with him is inappropriate, even if he is recovering from an injury and likely to sleep the whole time."

She looks thoughtful and taps her foot a couple of times. She is deciding.

"I will take you up on your offer. I will also arrange for an appropriate chaperone," she declares.

Poppy walks into the sitting room, goes over to the fireplace, throws in some floo powder and calls; "Winky? Could you come to Professor Snape's chambers?" She steps back and in a moment, a house elf pops in.

"Winky, I would like you to meet Miss Granger. I don't know if you had the opportunity to serve her while she was a student here."

"Winky is pleased to be meeting Miss Granger." Winky doesn't look at me at all, still gazing adoringly at Poppy. The house elf is smaller than the ones I knew. Her name is familiar. Isn't she the one who took care of Barty Crouch Junior when he was secreted at Crouch Senior's home?

It's rather hard to attach an age to most house elves. I guess she's middle-aged. The tea towel she is wearing with the Hogwarts crest is immaculate.

Poppy addresses Winky again. "Winky, I would like you to look after Miss Granger and Professor Snape. If there is anything Miss Granger or the Professor needs, would you take care of it personally?"

Winky prances on her scrawny bony legs. "Winky is pleased to help Miss Granger and Professor Snape."

"Most important, I would like you to stay in the Professor's chambers and chaperone so there is no gossip. Miss Granger will be monitoring the Professor for a few hours while he recovers and we should look after her reputation." Poppy looks smug.

"I give you my word, Miss Granger will not make any attempt to give you clothing."

Winky looks alarmed. "Miss Granger is _that_ Miss Granger?"

"Yes, but she's harmless now."

I cannot believe this is happening. You would think my efforts to liberate the house elves when I was a student make me the equivalent of a Death Eater to house elves. On top of that, there isn't any reason to worry about my reputation if I'm not going to leave these rooms and no one will see me.

A witch in a Victorian nurse's costume has outmaneuvered me. I knew I would regret giving her a financial incentive for preserving my virginity. Not that anything would be happening tonight, anyway.

Poppy gives me a triumphant smile. "Winky, I believe Miss Granger hasn't eaten for some time. Could you take care of it?

Winky snaps her fingers twice and another elf appears.

"Moffy, Miss Granger here is needing dinner." The elf tilts her head towards me. "You is going to kitchen and bring Miss Granger dinner." Moffy curtseys, holding out her tea towel, snaps her fingers and disappears.

"I will leave you now. Floo me if there is any deterioration in Severus' condition. I will return at 8 am, unless I hear from you before.

I nod. "Thank you Poppy."

Poppy whirls around, her dress sweeping out in a really good imitation of Professor Snape, throws powder in the fireplace and floos out.

I turn to go back to the bedroom. Where's Winky? I don't see her. Well. I go back to Severus' bedroom to check on him. Ahh. There she is. She's sitting in a chair next to the bed. Her arms are crossed and she's scowling at me.

I wonder what Severus would say if he knew his virtue was being safeguarded by a house elf?

A few minutes into writing up my notes, Moffy returns bringing a plate of shepherd's pie, some fruit salad, and a slice of rich fruit cake and a pot of tea. The cafeteria workers at Avalon should be required to take lessons from the cooks at Hogwarts. I set aside my work and enjoy my dinner, listening to the sounds of Severus snoring and feeling utterly domestic.

I've never seen a house elf sit so still. Winky is sitting on the other side of the bed, scarcely moving. Is this something she learned to do when she took care of Barty Crouch?

The next few hours alternate between reading and checking Severus' vital signs. He is doing fine with all readings normal.

The book I'm reading; _The Dancing Wu Li Masters_, is really helping me to comprehend quantum physics. It's so esoteric. Every time I think I have my brain wrapped around a concept, it tends to slip away on me. I think this is the third time I've read it and it is finally sinking in.

My watch, an old-fashioned wind-up model resistant to magic, is set to Chicago time. It's 7 am here, a little after 1 am there. Severus has been asleep about five hours. He's turned over a couple of times in his sleep and it didn't wake him, so he must not be in pain.

Knowing that he's going to be all right, I'm tempted to let myself doze. I check his vital signs again and record them in my notes. I look at Winky and she appears to be taking a nap, too. I curl up in the chair and close my eyes.

I wake up a while later. I don't think I slept very long, just enough to get the gritty feeling out of my eyes. I rub them and look at my watch. It's almost 8 am and Madame Pomfrey will be here soon.

Looking over at the bed, Winky's still asleep in the other chair. I pick up my wand and get up to check Severus. I stand over him, reassured that his vital signs are normal. He shifts in his sleep.

No, he's waking up. He stretches and his eyes open. He takes a moment and then he recognizes me.

"Hermione?"

I kneel next to the bed so my face is level with his. I keep my voice soft so as not to wake Winky.

"Good morning, Severus. How do you feel?"

"Good," he answers, his voice soft with sleep. "No pain."

"In that case, I think we succeeded," I give him the warmest smile I have in my arsenal.

He gives me a drowsy smile. In this moment, I am overwhelmed by everything I am feeling. He is glad I am here and it gives me hope.

"It's almost 8 am. Poppy will be here in a little while to check you over."

I can hear the fire in the other room start to crackle. She must be flooing in. I've only a few seconds. I lift my hand to Severus' face and brush his hair back away from his temple.

"I'm going to take a liberty, Severus." I lean down and kiss his cheek, gently. His skin feels warm against my lips. I lean back and he's looking at me, a look almost of wonder.

I stand, just as Poppy comes into the bedroom.

"Good morning, Hermione. How is the patient?"

"He's doing quite well. Severus slept straight through since you left with no signs of pain or tremors. His vital signs have been normal." I step aside and Madame Pomfrey comes up beside the bed, wand in hand as she repeats the readings I have just taken. She looks down and sees that Severus is awake.

"Well, Severus. You look much improved over last night," remarks Poppy.

"I feel much improved, thank you." Severus shifts about, starting to sit up.

Poppy holds out her hand to stop him. "I believe I would like to examine you before you get out of bed." She looks over at me, "If you will excuse us, Hermione."

"Of course, Poppy." I look at Severus. "I'll be in the sitting room."

I leave the two of them and Winky comes out into the sitting room. She gives me a dirty look and leaves.

One little attempt to foment house elf liberation and you pay for it the rest of your life.

Now that I know Severus is going to be all right, I am exhausted physically and emotionally. Looking around the room, there are books everywhere. The shelves are stuffed with books stacked on top of the ones sitting upright. There are books on the tables, on top of the cabinet, stacked on a box in the corner.

Temptation.

If I weren't so tired, I would go exploring. I lean back and close my eyes. I'm just going to rest them for a moment.

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Author's notes

A few months ago, Plaidpooka issued a challenge for a scene in a story where Severus Snape farts. I took her up on this challenge and dedicate all Snape farts in this story to Plaidpooka. No one could possibly deserve a dedication more (snicker).

If you have not read her work, you must pop on over to Ashwinder and take a look at _The Price of Madness._ Only the brilliant Plaidpooka could have found a way to present Severus Snape as a man gone insane andturn it into a romantic comedy that tugs at your heartstrings.

Thanks always for the encouragement of my reviewers: Rinny08, Danielle, Adele Rose, Slytherinchick 101, Lady-Rhian, Hebi, Sarah T, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Duj, Beate, Squeaker19450, Soul Chaser, Muggle-to-the-Max, Siren34, SSHGDMLOVE, Joani-the-unique-being, Tranquility, Evil-mastermind 666, Arime Setta, Koliber, MollysSister, Darque Hart, Kirien, Belas, Pinkwands, Me613, Emilia, LettyBIRD, AmiMizuno1, Jocemum, Wynnleaf, Severus-Fan, Green-eyed-angel, and Maddie50.


	49. Chapter 49

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Somehow, Julia finds time to go through these chapters and offer suggestions for wording, grammar, inconsistencies, and good ideas. Thank you!

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Severus

January 10th, 1999

I feel so groggy. I want to wake up and I cannot quite seem to get there. I hear a noise, someone moving. I remember being in pain. I stretch a bit, testing my muscles. No pain now, though a bit achy. My eyes open and everything is blurry, hard to focus. Someone is kneeling beside the bed.

My vision clears. She is here with her gentle brown eyes and warm smile.

"Hermione?" I am glad she is here. What happened? Oh, yes. Voldemort and Crucio. I do not wish to think about that, now.

"Good morning, Severus. How do you feel?"

"Good, no pain."

"In that case, I think we succeeded."

Her smile is so tender and I respond in kind. She is here in my rooms and sat with me while I slept, watching over me. I am….pleased.

"It's almost 8 am. Poppy will be here in a little while to check you over."

I can hear the fire in the other room start to crackle. Poppy must be flooing in. Hermione is still kneeling beside me. She lifts her hand to my face and brushes my hair back.

"I'm going to take a liberty, Severus," she whispers.

She leans down and kisses my cheek. For a moment, I am overwhelmed. I can only look at her and can think of nothing to say. Hermione stands and Poppy comes into my bedroom.

"Good morning, Hermione. How is the patient?"

"He's doing quite well. Severus slept straight through since you left with no signs of pain or tremors. His vital signs have been normal." She steps aside and Poppy comes up beside the bed, wand in hand to take readings.

"Well, Severus. You look much improved over last night," says Poppy.

"I feel much improved, thank you." I am still groggy, but I want to sit up.

Poppy holds out her hand to stop me. "I believe I would like to examine you before you get out of bed. If you will excuse us, Hermione."

"Of course, Poppy. I'll be in the sitting room."

Hermione leaves.

"Poppy, I must relieve myself." I do not mind that Hermione did not stay to hear that.

"Very well," says Poppy as she steps back. She knows from experience that I get rather cranky if she helps when I do not need it.

I work myself into a sitting position. I look down and see that I am wearing one of my old gray nightshirts. I suppose there was not much choice since I own half a dozen of them, all the same. I shift my legs over the side of the bed and stand. Poppy steadies me. I am a bit wobbly. It is just as well that Hermione is not in here to see my scrawny self in my nightshirt.

It occurs to me that if she is here, she was involved in my treatment in the cold immersion bath. Oh, Merlin. I remember her in the bath with me and I was wearing next to nothing. At least, I think I was wearing something.

I make my way to the bathroom, walking rather like an old man thanks to the muscle relaxants and my aching joints. I shut the door behind me, as Poppy clucks at me. Honestly, woman, let a man hang onto some dignity. I do not need you in here to hold it for me.

I attend to the necessities and wash my hands and face. Taking a good look in the mirror, my eyes are rather bloodshot, a common side effect of Crucio. My hair is a mess from lying in bed. I take a brush to it. Greasy again, but I am not up to washing it at the moment.

Shit.

I remember what happened last night with the Dark Lord. The reptilian bastard tried to rape me and lost his erection at the crucial moment. Pettigrew was watching and used his mouth on Voldemort to try and help him get it back. Voldemort was going to kill me with Crucio. Why am I alive? There must be more than I can remember right now. I shudder in horror as I reflect on the close call I have just had. Another thought occurs to me.

Hermione saw me practically naked.

Shit.

What did she see? I pull up my nightshirt and turn around to look at my bum in the mirror. No sign, no bruises. That is a relief, though I do not think she saw me totally naked. I would really prefer she not receive the mistaken impression that I prefer males.

I remember Voldemort's claws in my back and raise the nightshirt higher. My arms ache from reaching so high and my neck from twisting to see my back.

Shit.

There are claw marks on my back that look freshly healed. I must thank Poppy for that.

I do not know whether to despair or rejoice. Hermione must have seen the scars decorating my torso from one end to the other and that especially fine one on my neck that I always keep covered with my high neck collars. She had to see the Dark Mark on my arm. But, she stayed anyway and she kissed me this morning.

She would not kiss me if she was revolted. She looks at me like she cares. Or is it pity?

When she kissed me, it was as if she was sneaking it in before Poppy's arrival.

Poppy is coughing somewhat less than discretely outside of the door. I had best come out before she comes in after me. I will have to figure out later what all of this means with Hermione.

I need to see Albus.

Damn.

I am going to have to talk about what Voldemort tried to do to me. He has probably already figured out some of it. There is no way that I escaped that rape attempt without bruising in obvious places and Poppy would have seen it. It is distressing enough that I had to live through it, let alone relive it for them.

Damn.

I straighten up and take my robe from the hook behind the door. I will take whatever dignity I can find. I open the door and glare at Poppy, just on general principle, and wobble my way back to the bed. So much for dignity.

I drape the robe over the chair and drop back onto the bed without an ounce of grace. The trip to and from the bathroom has tired me. Poppy is tucking the blankets back around my legs.

"Poppy, please, I have not been a Third Year for a very long time."

"One wouldn't know it by how you act when you are ill, Severus Snape."

There is no point in arguing with a woman who has the ability to cause pain in the name of medical treatment. I lean back onto the pillows and let her have her way with me. I am poked and prodded and have a wand waved over me. Numbers and sigils form in the air. Poppy decides that I am well enough for now.

"If you feel like eating, I will have Winky bring you breakfast," she says, bustling about arranging the potions bottles on the nightstand.

"Breakfast would be welcome."

The bustling stops. Poppy looks at me with all seriousness. She speaks in a soft voice, not intended to be heard in the sitting room.

"Severus, I know there must have been considerable unpleasantness last night." She turns a sympathetic gaze to me, carefully considering her next words. "I saw the signs of some of it on your body, including that which leaves very little room for misinterpretation. Albus is aware of it as well."

"You might as well summon Albus, Minerva, and Remus," I sigh. "They will need to hear this and I prefer not to have to tell the tale twice. I would also prefer that Miss Granger not to be within earshot of it."

"I will floo them," says Poppy, rising to leave for the sitting room. "I believe Hermione is dozing. I will spell her to sleep so she will not awaken while we talk."

I nod assent and Poppy leaves me to my thoughts for the moment.

How did I get back to Hogwarts? Why in all the hells am I still alive? I hope Albus has some answers, because I cannot remember anything between the third round of Crucio and waking up in the bath with him and Hermione.

I recall a vivid image of Albus in a purple skintight garment with his beard and hair tied on top of his head. Could that have been a hallucination? I remember Hermione wearing something similar in black that outlined her breasts very nicely.

Poppy comes back in, accompanied by Winky. The house elf has a tray and settles it on my lap.

"Professor Snape is better today?" the odd creature asks.

I have seen this particular elf altogether too often during my regular visits to the hospital wing. Winky is a most unusual house elf. Her grief over being handed clothing by Barty Crouch, Senior turned her to strong drink. It was quite a difficult problem until Poppy more or less adopted her services for the hospital wing. As long as she has the sick and injured to look after, she seems to feel needed enough to stay off the bottle. Winky worships the ground on which Poppy walks.

"I am much better," I tell her.

"Winky helped to watch over you during the night to be chaperone for Miss Granger."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow at Poppy who has the decency to look embarrassed.

"There are proprieties to be observed, Severus," says Poppy, studiously examining her fingernails.

"Quite so," I reply, letting her off the hook. "Although I doubt I was in any shape last night to behave in ways requiring a chaperone."

"What makes you think you.…" Poppy is interrupted by Albus and Minerva's arrival.

Minerva walks right over and sits on the edge of the bed. No one else would dare. Well, perhaps Albus would, but Minerva got here first.

"Severus, you have given me a real fright," she lectures, patting my cheek and examining my face. "One minute we are celebrating your birthday, the next you are half dead in a heap by Hagrid's hut."

"The Dark Lord decided to celebrate my birthday as well."

"Is that why he summoned you?" asks Minerva.

"That is the reason he gave at the time," I snort. "You will not like some of our conversation, but that should wait until Remus arrives." I know that I will not like the subject matter either.

"You appear to be considerably improved and a good deal drier than when last I saw you," says Albus, beaming with good will. "Now that you are awake, I wish to congratulate you on the development of a successful treatment for the after effects of Crucio."

"Thank you, Albus, but much of the credit should belong to Hermione and her research in Muggle neurology. She learned about the effect of conflicting messages in the neural pathways and connected it to a possible treatment for Crucio. I simply determined the means to do it."

Albus looks surprised. It is not like me to praise a student this way, even if she is no longer a student. "I believe I should thank you and Poppy for implementing the treatment along with Hermione."

"You are welcome," answers Poppy. Albus nods. I wonder if I have struck him speechless?

"And, before you worry that Crucio has given me brain damage, that is the last pleasant thing I will be discussing today." That should reassure them that Severus Snape is still intact.

"Ah, Severus, I feared that is likely the case," replies Albus. He is interrupted by the arrival of Remus Lupin through the fireplace. The werewolf looks like he dressed in a hurry. Perhaps we have interrupted his beauty sleep?

Remus nods to me.

"From what Poppy said when she flooed, I understand you took quite a cursing from the Dark Lord. I see Hermione is sound asleep on your sofa. How did the treatment go?"

"It worked. I am remarkably pain-free today, just tired," I reply.

"How cold did you have to get the water before it achieved full effectiveness?"

Remus really had been paying attention all those times he came down into the cellar to watch our experiments. Poppy answers, since I was quite out of it at the time.

"The water was 60 degrees before Severus had the full benefit," she replies.

Remus looks impressed. "I have to commend you for finding a treatment that works. You've done all of us a service."

I incline my head. No reason not to accept accolades graciously when they are deserved.

Albus decides it is time to change the subject.

"Remus, would you please close the door? I believe we have something to discuss that Miss Granger should not overhear should she wake."

Remus complies with the request and adds a silencing spell.

Minerva shifts so she is sitting more solidly on the bed. Albus summons a chair and offers it to Poppy. Remus brings over another for Albus and transfigures one of my boots into one for himself.

"That is dragonhide and I expect you to return it to its original condition before you leave," I grumble.

"I'll do my best to turn it back into a living fire-breathing dragon before I leave," he retorts.

"If you do," says Minerva with her bright sincerity, "I will see to it your grade in Seventh Year Transfiguration is raised retrospectively."

"Boys, please," remonstrates Albus. "Severus, could you tell us what happened last night?"

Time to face that which I would prefer to avoid.

"I was summoned to the Dark Lord for a private audience. I did not know why I was summoned and the Dark Lord began the audience by offering food and wine. He actually invited me to prepare a plate of cheese and fruit for him. He ate bits of cheddar and Swiss Emmental, along with slices of apple and pear. He drank a glass of red wine. I have never seen him eat anything before."

"This tells us he consumes more than this potion made from Nagini's venom," observes Remus.

"He invaded my mind twice during the evening. In one, he saw Minerva and me together. Unfortunately, he has a strategy in mind for getting Minerva to reveal Albus' secrets to me." I can feel a flush coming to my face.

"This cannot be good," remarks Minerva, "since you are blushing, Severus."

"It is not." I hesitate to say what I must. "The Dark Lord wants me to seduce you."

Minerva bursts into laughter. Albus joins her, quickly followed by Poppy and Remus. My _friends_ are rolling about laughing at my expense.

I am vastly annoyed.

"I am pleased all of you find this situation so humorous," I retort. "Perhaps one of you would like to explain to the Dark Lord why I find it impossible to fulfill his wishes and accept the Crucio on my behalf?"

Minerva has her hand to her throat, trying to calm herself. She reaches over and takes my hand.

"Dear, dear Severus. For a Death Eater, you are such a prude."

My eyebrows are somewhere near my hairline.

"Minerva," I can barely speak. "Please tell me you are not considering this."

Minerva squeezes my hand.

"Of course not," she says. "Good heavens, you are like a son to me. But, with our closeness, I am surprised Tom Riddle has not thought of this before. You yourself have said he considers all women to be nuns or whores. He seems to have moved me out of the nun category."

"Permit me to speculate," interrupts Albus, looking at me with the most annoying twinkle. "Tom has already asked you to encourage Minerva's _drinking problem_. He wants you to get her drunk and then you are to seduce her."

"Your speculation is correct," I reply.

"Riddle consistently underestimates women," says Remus. "A Muggle psychotherapist would have a grand time analyzing him. His mother bore him in a marriage she forced on a Muggle who would not marry her without Imperius. His father never acknowledged him. She dies an hour after his birth and he is raised in an orphanage. He views his mother as incompetent and weak. This view taints how he sees all women."

"I can guarantee he does not view Bellatrix Lestrange that way," I reply.

"No, but he treats her like a whore and something not entirely human, doesn't he?" asks Remus.

"I would have to agree with that. It is as if she is an animal on a leash, turned loose when the Dark Lord wants something attacked."

"So women are wild things and whores or tame incompetent nuns? There is no woman in the inner circle who is utilized for her skills in strategizing or research?" asks Minerva.

"Never," I respond. "On occasion, Bellatrix has spoken up and given an opinion on strategy, but she is generally ignored by the Dark Lord when she does so. I suspect she uses a different tactic known as pillow-talk."

Minerva visually cringes at the notion.

"I do not wish to even imagine what that might be like," she shudders. "However, to safeguard you from the Dark Lord's wrath, we will playact whatever we need to. Perhaps he will be satisfied for a while with memories of a flirtation."

"What about a flirtation that keeps being interrupted by a jealous Albus? That could string him along for a while," interrupts Remus as he looks at Albus. "Does Riddle know about your relationship with Poppy?"

"I believe he does," answers Albus.

"The Dark Lord does know of it," I confirm. "He has made reference to it a few times in discussions with me to determine if he could make use of it in some way."

"So much for that idea," says Remus, shaking his head.

"We will engage in a staged flirtation for the time being and adjust it accordingly if the Dark Lord will not accept a gradual seduction," offers Minerva, looking at me reassuringly. "We will find a way to convince Riddle that we are progressing in the direction he wants, while minimizing actions we consider to be outside of the parameters of our relationship. I believe everyone here should acknowledge that this is very uncomfortable for Severus and myself. Knowledge of this should be restricted to those of us present. Neither of us wants any sort of gossip about this."

"Absolutely," confirmed Albus.

Remus looks at me. "Is this acceptable to you?"

"Yes. Minerva and I will make the best of the situation." I am especially grateful that Minerva brought up the requirement of keeping this completely confidential. I do not want rumors bandied about. Certainly none that might cause Hermione to rethink…. No. I must stop this kind of thinking. It is not the time for it.

"There is more to my meeting with the Dark Lord of which you need to be aware." I hesitate, take a deep breath, and launch into the subject that I would rather avoid. "He attempted to rape me last night."

Of course Albus and Poppy already knew something of a sexual nature had happened given the bruising on my buttocks, but they did not know exactly what. They may have believed I was raped.

The look on Minerva's face is one of horror and instant empathy as she grasps my hand again. Remus is startled and clearly revolted.

"He _attempted_ to rape me," I reiterate, "He did not succeed, because he could not sustain an erection." I speed on. "I believe none of you except Albus is aware of how the Dark Lord activates the Dark Mark?"

Albus nods, indicating I should go on.

"The charm that activates the Mark is based on an ancient binding ritual that requires the use of blood or other body fluid to activate it. The Dark Lord tailored the spells creating the Mark to use his own semen as the only means of activation. To initiate a female Death Eater, he has intercourse with her. To initiate a male Death Eater, he uses sodomy."

I do not care to look any of them in the eye at this point, so I look down at my breakfast tray where the food has gone cold.

"Believe me," I continue, "I was not made aware of this before my initiation nor are any Death Eater recruits. By the time we find out about the requirement, it is too late to change one's mind. In my experience, that has happened only once and resulted in an Imperio, which Riddle used to gain compliance with the ritual, followed by Crucio and an assortment of disemboweling and dismembering curses to make an example of the reluctant Death Eater."

I pause to sip some tea, still not looking at my audience.

"The Dark Lord said he wanted to renew my fealty to him by reinforcing the activation of the Dark Mark. If I received his semen into my body, it would strengthen the power of the Mark, there is no doubt of that. However, I did not attempt to resist the Dark Lord's order to comply, since that would have resulted in a particularly nasty death. The only thing that saved me was the Dark Lord's inability to sustain an erection."

"When he attempted to complete the act, he was unable to perform and summoned Pettigrew who fellated him trying to bring on an erection. And no, I did not look but I could hear what they were doing. I was in a horrifying enough position, literally, without watching those two animals going at it. It was apparent Pettigrew has done this before and he had some partial success with the Dark Lord. He again attempted to rape me and failed, at which time he blamed me and started hurling Crucios. That is the last I remember before I woke up here in the cold immersion bath, feeling very surprised to be alive. He was angry enough to kill me and I do not know why he did not."

"The Dark Lord must have summoned Lucius Malfoy to retrieve you," says Albus. "Hagrid found you near his hut after a hail of stones pelted his roof. You were wearing this."

Albus holds out one of the three Malfoy crest shaped pendants he had created to be used as portkeys for Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco."

I take the portkey and examine it. "It must have been Lucius. I will communicate with him as soon as possible to find out what happened during the period of time I was unconscious." I raise my head and look at Albus. "One could conclude, given the Dark Lord's bout of impotence, that he has a medical problem of some sort."

"Impotence can have many causes," reports Poppy, beginning a lecture. "Among the medical causes wizards share with Muggles are high blood pressure, diabetes, prostate problems and low testosterone. Certain chronic diseases such as renal failure, heart disease, and circulatory disease can also be responsible. Magical causes can include taking certain potions and any number of curses, hexes or jinxes. Without more information, we can only speculate about the nature of the Dark Lord's problem."

"Based on the Dark Lord's summoning of Pettigrew, I suspect this has happened before," I add. "On one occasion last year, he made reference to needing to preserve himself for a mystical union with a new Death Eater when he was considering sodomizing a Death Eater as a punishment. If Riddle is unable to perform, there will be no new Death Eaters bound to him by the Mark or he will have to develop a blood bonding mechanism."

"From what you have told us previously, the rate of initiating Death Eaters has dropped. This could be the reason," adds Remus.

"The Bone, Flesh, and Blood magic Riddle used to create a body for himself allowed the genetic weaknesses of his willing and unwilling donors to come through in the body he now inhabits." The pieces are coming together in my mind. "The clover I found on his robes is used by a species of magical snake to protect its eggs. Ingredients harvested from the snake are used in a potion to strengthen heart muscle. The Dark Lord suffers from impotence, a condition caused by an inability to send sufficient blood to the proper organ. The Dark Lord has drunk water and wine and eaten in my presence, something he never did in the past."

I look at Poppy. "What are the chances he has diabetes and is trying to keep his blood sugar stable? Heart disease can be related to diabetes."

Poppy looks like she is searching for something in her head. "A predisposition for diabetes runs in some families." Her head pops up. "The Potters. That is it. I must go back to my office and look through medical records of former students. I believe James Potter's father had diabetes."

"Charles Potter attended Hogwarts in the 1940's, Poppy. I cannot recollect what year he left," says Albus, urgency in his voice.

"More than that," says Remus, "Peter Pettigrew's mother had a heart condition. She was a Barnhill and I can't recall her first name. She died shortly after Pettigrew faked his own death. I believe it was from a problem with heart arrhythmia."

"Charity Barnhill," recalls Albus, "A former student from the 1930's."

"If you will all excuse me, I have some searching to do in some very dusty old files," announces Poppy as she rises and makes a rather hasty exit.

"As terrible an experience as it was for you, Severus, your experience may provide us with the answer we have been seeking all these months," says Albus. "We may have a hypothesis we can use in developing our strategies against Tom Riddle."

"Be that as it may," says Minerva, "diabetes is treatable through Muggle means and even more completely controlled through magical means. Why would he experience symptoms of it?"

"Because we cannot fully understand what sort of creature he has become due to the ways he has tampered with his body in his search for immortality," I speculate. "Magical or Muggle means might not work on him."

"It is a weakness we can exploit, we just need to find a way to do it," says Remus.

I consider how best to approach the problem. "My first priority must be to speak with Lucius and see if he knows why I am alive. My audience with the Dark Lord was private except for Pettigrew's timely arrival. Until I know what transpired in the time I was unconscious, I cannot know what my status is with the Dark Lord."

"Agreed," said Albus. "How are you feeling, Severus?"

I consider my physical status. I am still achy and tired. And hungry. The breakfast Winky brought me is cold and unappetizing.

"I am quite tired, Albus. I believe I will sleep for a few hours after I eat."

"Allow me to order you something fresh," suggests Minerva, smiling, "Our discussion seems to have left your breakfast cold."

"I would appreciate that." I lean back against the pillows. The adrenalin rush of discussion and discovery is gone and I am worn out from the exertion. Albus rises as does Remus.

"Please do not forget to transfigure that chair back into my left boot," I remind Remus who complies with my request.

I examine the transfiguration. "I must compliment you on your duplication of an inanimate Norwegian Ridgeback in miniature. However, it will not fit well around my foot so if you could finish the job and have it match the other boot excepting that it is for the left foot, I will refrain from hexing you.

"You always were a picky bastard," replies Remus, sounding altogether too cheerful. He completes the transfiguration and I appear to have my boot back.

"Severus," he says, sounding hesitant, "It took courage for you to tell us what you did. I cannot imagine how you came through what the Dark Lord did to you and still have the presence of mind to recognize clues and analyze them."

I try to think of a retort.

"Don't try to deprecate," says Remus, holding up a hand to stop whatever I was about to say. "None of us thank you nearly enough for the risks you take every day on behalf of all of us. This is a time that calls for it. And no, you do not have to respond. Just get some rest and we'll figure out what to do next."

I really am at a loss for what to say. I am unaccustomed to hearing gratitude for what I do.

"Remus, I…" I cannot finish.

He gives me one of his wolfish grins.

"Understood." Remus stands and heads for the door. "Get some rest."

He is gone and I am left to myself for a moment. I am tired from the effort it took to discuss what happened to me last night. Thank Merlin, no one showed pity even if they thought it. I do not know if I would have handled it with even the smallest grace. If I were not exhausted, I would be angry.

My self-discipline is considerably better than it once was. There were times when the events of yesterday and my rage would have resulted in blasted furniture and a good deal of broken crockery. I wonder if Hermione slipped a bit of calming potion into the internal Crucio treatment?

Hermione.

So many unanswered questions about the woman asleep on my settee, just beyond where I coul see her. I want to know what her behavior means. I want to know what her second kiss means. I am mystified and I am tired. I cannot think it through right now, because I might not get it right and I cannot afford a mistake. I close my eyes.

-----------------------

I wake to the sound of someone moving about the room. Minerva is sitting in the chair beside my bed. Her eyes are closed and she appears to be dozing. I turn my head and see Hermione standing by the bed, writing something in a notebook. She smiles at me when she sees I am awake.

"Good afternoon," she whispers, nodding meaningfully at Minerva.

"Has she been here all along?" I whisper back.

"All morning. It's lunchtime now." She raises an eyebrow to me. "Hungry? You fell back to sleep before breakfast arrived. I kept a warming charm on it, but if you want something other than eggs, bacon, and toast, I can request it for you."

"No. This will be fine."

Hermione rises, walks over to my chest-of-drawers and brings back the tray. I sit up gingerly and pull the pillows up behind my back, careful to keep the blankets to my waist. Hermione sets the tray down onto my lap and removes a metal cover from the plate. I am famished and the sight of food kicks my appetite up a notch. I dig into the scrambled eggs.

Hermione sits back down, watching me surreptitiously as she continues writing in her notebook. Good. I have no objection to her keeping an eye on me, because I am certainly keeping an eye on her.

She looks amazingly fresh for someone who has had very little in the way of sleep. Her hair is pulled up into a knot on top of her head with tendrils around her face and neck. She has such a slender neck. The tendrils fall forward as she dips her head, revealing the place where her neck curves into her shoulder. The skin looks smooth and I wonder how it would feel beneath my lips. I can imagine beginning a trail of kisses there and moving to the front of her neck, traveling up as she twists her head to give me access, her head slipping back and eyes closing as she revels in sensation. My groin tightens at the images playing out in my head and I realize I have to stop this.

If I were alone with Hermione right now, the temptation to touch her, to pull her across the bed and live out this fantasy would be overwhelming. What is more, I think with increasing confidence that Hermione might be receptive to such actions on my part.

The way she took care of me in the water, the gentleness and soft looks she has given me since I regained awareness of my surroundings, lead me to conclude she does not find me repulsive and may even be fond of me.

This is a new experience for me, one that is both intensely desirable and frightening.

I remind myself that I am supposed to be eating. I am unsure of how long my fork stopped in midair because the scrambled eggs I put in my mouth are cool. I swallow.

Every fantasy, every possibility I have ever wanted is sitting in the chair next to my bed.

"Hermione," I whisper.

She looks up at me, her eyes soft and a warm smile playing at her lips. She is waiting for me to say something. My hand wants to reach out and touch her. I start to move when I hear a noise to my side and remember Minerva is here. I turn and look at Minerva who has shifted in the chair.

"Would you like hot tea?" asks Hermione. "What you have there has probably gone cold."

"Yes, please," I answer, trying to pretend I was going to make such a request of her anyway.

Minerva stirs again in the chair. It appears her nap and my opportunity with Hermione has passed. I apply my fork to the bacon on the plate.

"It is good to see you have an appetite, Severus," says Minerva, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"Thank you for ordering a second breakfast for me."

"You're certainly welcome," she replies. "You look much better with the additional sleep."

"Madame Pomfrey said she would be back about 2 pm to check on you," interrupts Hermione. "How are you feeling?"

"Much more like myself, which is a considerable improvement over last night."

"You were in bad shape when they brought you in," remarks Minerva.

"Bad enough," I reply. "After I am done here, I would like to review your notes, Hermione."

"They are ready for you, sir," she replies.

We slip back into the master/apprentice relationship, roles that are comfortable and acceptable in front of an audience. With Minerva maintaining her vigil and making occasional comments from the chair beside the bed, Hermione and I review the notes she has made about the treatment and its effectiveness at different stages.

"What do you think about increasing the dosage of the veneno gaultheria procumbens in the external potion?" asks Hermione. "You tolerated it very well and if that is the case, it might reduce the pain faster."

"It is worth attempting," I reply. "We should wait until after we have tried the current dosage on at least one other person before we make any modifications."

"I'd really prefer it wasn't you next time," admits Hermione.

"Severus has taken far more than his fair share of torture for the well-being of the rest of us," says Minerva. "It is definitely someone else's turn next time and I will nominate Mad-Eye for the privilege.

"The man is paranoid as it is without having one of his few friends wish torture on him," I tease back.

"I am not wishing it; I am only saying that turns should be taken if it occurs," says Minerva, quite prim.

Hermione laughed. "It is a sad state of affairs when we're putting together list of our friends to queue up for torture."

"Ah, but if they are true friends they will certainly agree to take turns," replies Minerva smugly.

I hear the sound of someone flooing in through the fireplace in the sitting room and suspect it is Poppy come to check me over. She bustles in as she always does, taking charge of the room and the patient with a swish of her skirts. Minerva and Hermione are shooed away and I am given a thorough physical.

"Hold out your hands, Severus," she orders. I raise my arms and hold out my hands. At this stage in my recovery, my hands should be tremoring as if I had Parkinson's disease. They are not. My hands are quite steady and I cannot account for this from the treatment.

"My hands are steady and I have no idea why."

"Nor do I," answers Poppy. "There was nothing in the treatment that should have eliminated the tremors, but if it has this effect by serendipitous means, I will accept it. Can you stand for me and walk across the room?"

I rise from the bed and comply. My muscles ache a bit, but I can stand reasonably comfortably and can walk standing up straight, unlike my earlier bent-over posture.

"I believe I can pronounce you fit, Severus," she pontificates. "I am amazed. You experienced a minimum of four rounds of Crucio cast by the Dark Lord himself and you are recovered to the point where I would think this is a week past the event instead of something that took place less than eighteen hours ago. There is something in this treatment that has exceeded all of my expectations. You are free to return to as many of your normal activities as you can tolerate."

"Very good, Poppy," I reply. "I have no idea what has made the difference, but this treatment has several unique components to it, especially the water immersion. Perhaps being buoyant in the water might be the significant factor. Unfortunately, it will probably take multiple incidents and treatments before we can determine what truly makes the difference."

"Agreed," she replies. "Feel free to go back to bed or get dressed and be about your business, whatever you prefer." She gives me an amused smile. "If you would like to take advantage and have a lie in, I will certainly cover for you."

"Thank you, Poppy but I believe I will get dressed. I have some investigating to do. Speaking of which, have you found the medical records you were looking for?"

"I found Charles Potter's medical records and I can confirm that he had diabetes, completely controlled through magical means. I have not found Charity Barnhill's records, yet. I believe they may have been destroyed some years ago, but I will check Pettigrew's records. There could be a reference in there to a family history of heart problems."

"Anything you can find out will be helpful. Thank you again for your care and your discretion."

"You are most welcome, Severus," says Poppy as she indulges in a bit of hand patting. "I will leave you to dress."

Poppy leaves the room and closes the door behind her. I am relieved to have a few moments alone so I can attend to shaving, washing my hair, dressing, and other matters.

-------------------------------

My ablutions complete, I don my usual robes and give myself a once-over glance in the mirror. I look unharmed. I lean closer to the mirror and look again.

My eyes should still be bloodshot, the lines on my face deeper, my skin pale and blotchy. Instead, I look like my usual thirty-nine…. No, my forty-year-old self. There has to be something in the treatment causing a lessening in the overall recovery time. I exit from the bathroom and notice the house elves have already been in and made up the bed and tidied the room.

There is much to do. Whether I truly wish to or not, I must send Hermione on her way. I know I am not thinking clearly and I must handle this, whatever this is, very carefully. I am never impulsive, but I find myself wishing to do and say things that are entirely impulsive and foreign to my character. This is too important to risk making a mistake.

I need to contact Lucius and set up a meeting. I must determine what happened after I blacked out. My to-do list for today was extensive, but I dare not do anything healthy too soon or the Dark Lord might figure out there is a new treatment for Cruciatus. There are classes tomorrow and I will need to act as if I am bravely attempting to recover from my ordeal, especially since I have Slytherin/Gryffindor Fifth Years in the afternoon.

My plans for brewing tonight are cancelled since there must be no detectable activity in the dungeons, but I can do some quiet reading and marking. I will not be seen at dinner, since I will be too ill for the benefit of any Death Eater supporters among the students.

I open the bedroom door and stride into the sitting room. Hermione and Minerva are there, chatting in front of the fireplace. Hermione smiles and her eyes light up at seeing me moving about in a very normal manner. Minerva's expression is largely hidden behind the cup of tea in her hands.

I nod to both of them and take a seat on the sofa.

"You look quite unscathed, Severus," observes Minerva.

"I am surprisingly ahead of schedule in my recovery."

"Do you think it is because of being immersed in water instead of lying down on a bed during the Crucio aftermath?" asks Hermione. I can see the wheels turning in her head as her mind races through possibilities.

"I consider that one of the possible reasons, as does Poppy, but it will likely take repetitions of the treatment before we are able to determine why there is this added benefit. Meanwhile, we need to prevent any word of this from getting to the Dark Lord. The rest of the day, I shall keep to my quarters and tomorrow I shall appear unwell while I teach. The Death Eater sympathizers will speculate and word will get back to the Dark Lord so all will seem as it should to him."

"I am relieved you are so well, Severus," offers Hermione.

If we were alone, we would talk but that cannot happen at Hogwarts. There are too many eyes and ears, including a certain Animagus cat.

"Thank you again for everything you did and for coming to my aid so quickly," I tell her. "But you have had little sleep and need to get back to the college before anyone recognizes a connection between your disappearance and my injury."

"I realize that. I wanted to stay long enough to make certain you were all right," she replies.

Hermione proceeds to transfigure her winter coat into a cloak so she will not be noticed as she leaves Hogwarts.

"Do you know a Disillusionment charm?" I ask. I do not want anyone to notice her as she makes her way through the dungeons and out of the castle.

"I do," she replies. "Not to worry. I remember my way back to the secret doorway at Astronomy Tower." She picks up her backpack and I am loath to let her leave even knowing the necessity of it. She leans over and gives Minerva a quick hug.

"Be sure to apologize to Molly and Arthur for me that I didn't get over to see them. I'll write to them right away, but Molly might take it better if she hears what happened from you," she says to Minerva.

"I will take care of it this evening. You were needed here, Hermione, and should not feel guilty about it," responds Minerva.

"I know I appreciate your presence and the care you provided," I add gently, but carefully so I do not express too much.

Her face lights up and I realize I have said more than I should. She is no actress and everything she feels is on her face. Fortunately, Minerva does not appear to notice as she looks at me.

"You're welcome, Severus," says Hermione. "I've made a copy of my notes for you and left them on your desk."

It is a bit awkward now. I wish she did not have to go.

"I will see you in February, then," she says. "Will you let me know how you are doing?"

"I shall by the usual means."

Hermione nods and gives me a last look as she steps through the doorway and out of my sight. Damn, I wish she could have stayed so we could talk.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day, Severus?" asks Minerva, interrupting my reverie.

"I have correspondence to take care of and I will probably read." I take the seat Hermione has vacated. "I must give the appearance of being in recovery from the Dark Lord's punishment, so I will essentially hide out here until class tomorrow."

"A reasonable strategy," says Minerva reaching over to pat my hand. She has taken to patting me of late. Were she not my close friend, I would probably disallow it. Actually, it is rather comforting, especially after the rather trying time I have had over the last two days.

"As for your expected seduction of my person," adds Minerva archly, "I think your injured status can put a reasonable delay on that particular project. However, next week we can begin our flirtation."

"Minerva, I must apologize for putting you through this."

"I am more concerned about traumatizing you than I am about myself," she replies. Her deep blue eyes are full of sincerity. "Ever since we struck up a friendship, I have fancied myself fulfilling the role of a favorite aunt in your life. The thought of us having a snog feels fundamentally wrong and I doubt would happen even if we both took doses of a lust potion. No offense, Severus, but if I were under the influence, I would likely seek out Rubeus Hagrid before I would you."

We both snicker at the image of Minerva preying on Hagrid with seduction in mind. The poor man would have no clue as to what hit him.

"Would that you truly were my aunt, Minerva. With your influence, I suspect I would have made fewer very poor choices in my youth. And no offense is intended, but I think I too would likely seek out Hagrid for a snog before coming to you."

Minerva breaks into chortles of laughter and begins patting my hand again.

"Then we had best never come under the influence of any lust potions or Rubeus will be in for a very confusing time of it. Poor Albus would have to spend weeks with him sorting it all out."

"That might be beyond Albus' counseling skills altogether," I reply.

We both settle a bit and Minerva leans towards me, looking far more serious.

"We might very well have lost you this time, Severus."

"I am uncertain as to why I am still alive. I have seen the Dark Lord this angry before and have never seen the target of his wrath come out alive," I reply.

"You do understand that you are valuable to all of us just as you are without being a spy," she says. "Has the time come for us to determine whatever means is necessary for getting the Mark off your arm so you can stop?"

"No, Minerva," I shake my head. "My role as spy is more important than ever now that we may have discerned the Dark Lord's weakness." I look down at my wrist, covered by my frock coat and the sleeves of my robe. The Mark is hidden only from the eyes of others, never from my consciousness. "It may never be possible to remove the thrice-damned thing and perhaps is quite properly there as a reminder of the consequences of making bad decisions."

"You do not deserve that," says Minerva. "You have paid for your mistakes and served our cause with unwavering loyalty and commitment."

"If I had truly paid for the crimes of my youth, I would be dead or have known the Dementor's kiss. Those are the natural consequences and legal penalties for the criminal activities in which I engaged. Never doubt that, Minerva. I could serve our cause for the rest of my days and never mark my debt as paid-in-full."

"In your eyes only, Severus," she murmurs, "Not in the eyes of those who know and love you."

"Stop it, Minerva." My voice drops and all my insecurities rise to the surface. "I can count the number of people who love me on a hand with no fingers."

"Nonsense," says Minerva gently. "If Gaius McGonagall and I had been blessed with a son, I could have wished for none I would love more. There are times I wish I had a time-turner of sufficient power that I could go back to 1960 and rob you from your cradle. I would go back ten more years and leave you on my own doorstep. I would have rejoiced at the opportunity to raise you as my own child and give you the kind of love and stability a child needs. I suspect we both would be happier people today if such a miracle were possible."

I am reduced to whispers for fear my voice will betray me.

"I cannot imagine a happier home or a better childhood. The thought means more to me than you shall ever know. Thank you Minerva."

We both pause for a moment to collect ourselves. Minerva coughs.

"Take some time today to get extra rest as long as you must play the invalid," she counsels. "I will come by this evening and check on you. No, do not interrupt and tell me it is unnecessary, because I will do it anyway."

Minerva and I both rise and I walk her to the fireplace so she can floo back to her own quarters unobserved. I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her arms come up around me and we are caught in a brief embrace, a rare moment for two people who do not indulge in displays of affection. We release each other and she steps through the fireplace to her own rooms. I stand and stare into the green flames until they vanish.

For as long as I can remember, I have striven to feel nothing. I strive for a cold affect, absence of emotion, and distance. Today, I have felt so many things I am overwhelmed.

----------------------------

Thanks to all my reviewers: SSHGDMLOVE, Bakaonigirii, Darque Hart, B7-kerravon, Danielle, Mirlanthiriel, PhoenixFlight, TheRogueAuthor, Evil-Mastermind666, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Latinachikita, Duj, Arime Setta, Barb, Koliber, Notwritten, Droxy, Siren34, Green-eyed-angel, Hebi R., Millenia 2, Jocemum, Severus-Fan, Beate, Emilia, Tigerfanfry, Muggle-to-the-max, Yaness (I tried to respond to your review, but the e-mail you gave bounces back), Maddie50, Liyndi578, MollysSister, Pinkwands, Adele Rose, Me613, Mugglemomof3, Ami Mizuno1


	50. Chapter 50

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia from me and the readers. We all know who has made this a better story.

This chapter consists of letters and notes in the form of paired journal entries, owled communications, and e-mail. Bless Zafaran for trying to help me format all of this to make it look the way it should. Unfortunately, the software here at FanFiction turns all hard returns into a new paragraph. I have been outwitted by Word and the software used at this site.

The software at this site will not allow e-mail addresses to be included in the text. I have changed the "at" symbol to the word "at" and spaced out the ending to sneak it through. These are not real addresses. Those are protected by the Secrecy Act and can only be accessed by the wizarding world on Digital Magic computers with their specially magicked chips.

-----------------------------

**Correspondence **

**January, 1999 **

------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Draco

January 10th, 1999

Draco,

I am in urgent need of getting a message to your father and I do not want to risk interception of our usual forms of communication. You mentioned before that you keep a set of magically paired journals for correspondence with your parents. Please make this request to your father on my behalf.

I need to meet with your father as soon as possible. If he is available tomorrow evening at 7 pm, I will meet with him at the place we met in December. Please assure him that I am sufficiently recovered from the ordeal to apparate safely. No, I will not assuage your curiosity at this time.

Thank you for the birthday gift you sent me. I was unaware Avalon College had a Quidditch team, so a team sweatshirt was a surprise. I am wearing it now and it is quite warm and comfortable, even here in the dungeons.

The silver lettering on navy blue is a most suitable combination as Avalon College colors. However, I must question the wisdom of the college Quidditch team having a motto "It takes leather balls to play Quidditch". Somehow, this does not seem appropriate to a serious academic environment. To say nothing about how the women on the team might feel about it.

You do understand that I will not be seen wearing this in public. In truth, I will not even be seen wearing it in private. I have an image to maintain.

Your father tells me that you are considering studying Arithmancy as well as Charms. It is an excellent choice and will be quite demanding when added to your current course of study. You are capable of succeeding with this as long as you apply yourself and are consistent in studying. Get to work, young man.

Severus

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Molly and Arthur

January 10th, 1999

Dear Molly and Arthur,

I hope Minerva has been able to reach you to fill you in on what happened with Severus this weekend. As horrid as his encounter with Voldemort must have been, it does look like the Cruciatus treatment works. He was in much better shape when I left him. Working with Poppy and Albus on his treatment left me no opportunity to visit you. I've had next to no sleep for the last day or so, so I'm going to grab a nap. I'll write more later.

Love,

Hermione

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Draco to Lucius

January 10th, 1999

Dear Father,

I received a missive from Severus tonight through our paired journals. He requests an urgent meeting with you and would like to meet at the place where you met in December at 7 pm tomorrow, January 11th. He reports he is well enough to apparate.

Please respond right away so I can get word back to him.

Do you know what happened to Severus? He does not elaborate, but it sounds like he was injured.

Draco

---------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Hermione

January 10th, 1999

Hermione,

It is almost 9 pm and I have spent the time since you left reading and relaxing. As Minerva encouraged earlier, I may as well enjoy the leisure since everyone with a connection to the Dark Lord will believe I am recovering from Crucio.

Be assured, I feel remarkably well. There is some residual aching in the muscles of my legs and lower back, but otherwise there are none of the usual after effects. Most remarkably, my hands do not tremor as has always been my most notable symptom after a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse.

Poppy, Albus, and Minerva are checking me on regularly. It is only my congenial nature that prevents me from responding violently to being clucked over by that bunch of broody hens.

When Albus last visited, he told me about your quick arrival after he signaled you and gave me details of how you cared for me. It seems I am truly indebted to you for helping me to come through this so quickly. I usually resent such things, viewing them as unwanted obligations. In this case, I am oddly comfortable with it and hope the occasion never arises where I might need to repay you in kind.

My memory of the early part of the treatment is hazy, but I remember you were there in the water with me. I have a later memory of Albus being in the water and dressed in the most bizarre manner. You were there in the morning when I awoke and I wondered if I had been dreaming.

I plan to be to bed early and have been relieved of my patrol duties for the next few days in order to best play the role of an invalid. I shall take full advantage of the opportunity, especially since Madame Hooch and Professor Sinistra have been directed to take over my patrols. One must be grateful for small blessings.

In all the chaos today, I failed to thank you for my birthday gift. I do indeed remember Queen and was enjoying listening to it when the Dark Lord saw fit to interrupt my birthday. It is a most considerate gift. So, Remus can be bought for the price of a Barry Manilow album? As a Slytherin, I appreciate knowing he can be bought. I wonder what he would do for the Beatles?

I look forward to the next time you return to Britain. The potions lab in the cellar at headquarters seems oddly empty when you are not there.

Thank you again,

Severus

----------------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

From: Hermione Granger, HJGranger at awl . c o m

To: Anita Schuler, Charmed23 at awl . c o m

Date: 1/10/99

I'm back. The emergency back home has been resolved. I was up practically all night so I'm going to hit the sack early and try to get my body back on local time. Thanks for keeping an eye on Crookshanks. When I got home, he and Thekla were having a jolly time chasing a new enchanted mouse toy around the room. You and Draco are spoiling him rotten. Thanks again.

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Lucius to Draco

January 10th, 1999

Son,

Please write to Severus straight away and tell him I shall be there at 7 pm tomorrow. I am more relieved than you can know that he is recovering. He was Crucioed to the point of unconsciousness and I was concerned he might have lasting injuries as a result.

I would like you to obtain a set of these journals and send them to me immediately. I believe it would be wise if I could correspond with Severus directly as I do with you.

Your mother sends her love and encouragement to dress warmly and eat sufficiently in this cold weather. Wear the heavy lambs wool sweater we gave you for Christmas.

How are negotiations on the price of the apartment building? And how are your driving lessons progressing? Before you ask again, you may not buy a car until you finish the lessons and have a license. You shall continue to rent one as needed.

Love,

Father

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Draco to Severus

January 10th, 1999

Severus,

I received a message from Father that he will be there at 7 pm on Monday.

He says you were Crucioed and I am very glad you have not come to lasting harm. Rest well.

Avalon doesn't actually have a Quidditch team since brooms are banned on campus due to the Secrecy Act and the dangers of flying them in downtown Chicago. I had several of the sweatshirts made up as a protest. We'd happily go up to a hidden field in northern Wisconsin to play. If nothing else, they'll make a nice collector's item.

It _does_ take leather balls to play Quidditch. If bludgers weren't made out of dragonhide, they'd never hold up to the rough use they get. I was simply being factual about the matter.

However, if you consider the women who played on the Slytherin team during my tenure, I wonder whether or not I was truly speaking metaphorically.

I am going back to studying now, sir.

Draco

--------------------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

From: Adam Schuler, Compwiz27 at awl . c o m

To: Hermione Granger, HJGranger at awl . c o m

Date: 1/10/99

My team took a look at the remains of the calculator you sent to Hogwarts. That melted plastic makes a nice little free-form sculpture, doesn't it? We've agreed that our plastic protectors are definitely not ready to take on a magical field that strong. From our initial results, it looks like magical warding that's been in place for more than ninety years or is more than sixteen layers deep or cast by five different wizards is too strong for our product. My guess is the more powerful the wizards who cast the wards, the fewer wizards and wards it takes to fry the works.

In the big picture, we did better than I thought we would. I figured we'd be doing good to have our process protect objects in wards that were fifty years old.

This is going to end up being a multi-year project. We have some ideas about improvements that are going to take time to test out.

If I remember from what you told me, the family you stay with in England has had multiple generations living in the same house and more than five wizards who would have cast the wards. When we have the next generation ready to test, would you take some of our products there and try them out? None of our team members live in a place that is more than one hundred years old or they are the first wizarding family to live in the house.

This'll also get you first crack at our newest products. I'm hoping in the next two years, we'll try this on a notebook computer, assuming Dad's company doesn't buy the process out from under us and take over the research. By then, I'll have my degree. Maybe he'll let me head the research team. Sometimes it helps being the bosses' son, LOL.

----------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 11th, 1999

Severus,

I am relieved to learn that you are experiencing so few after-effects of the Crucio and actually gaining extra benefits from the treatment. It even made you congenial! Please be careful not to reveal that to others as it could blow your cover.

In all seriousness, you could have died from this one. Under the need-to-know principle, I realize it is unlikely I will ever know why the Dark Lord decided to Crucio you nearly to the point of no return.

However you managed to get back to Hogwarts in the condition you were in, if Hagrid hadn't found you, it is certain you would have frozen to death in the snow. Another round or two of Crucio and you would almost certainly have had brain damage. I've met Neville Longbottom's parents and the thought that you could have ended up in the same ward with them terrifies me.

At what point are the gains from your role as a spy outweighed by the cost to all of us if you are lost?

I suspect you place a lower value on yourself than you deserve. You are far more than the Order's spy. Is there no other way than for you to take this risk over and over?

Hermione

--------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To: Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl .c o m , Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m, Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m

From: Warren Stevens: Nyluvrboy6 at awl . c o m

Date: 1/12/99

Re: A hair raising experience

Hello everyone and congratulations on getting an A on the mid-term evaluation of our cross-disciplinary project! And thanks to Hermione for letting us experiment on that gorgeous mane of hers.

We are ready to move to the next level. We have the formulation for the shampoo worked out, but we need to get busy with improving the hair conditioner. Is everybody available for dinner Wednesday night?

The cafeteria menu calls for lasagna, which isn't too bad considering they make it with Velveeta. The garlic bread is good.

Please let me know if this will work. Kisses….

----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Hermione

January 12th, 1999

Hermione,

I have been thinking about your note and how to answer it. First, I am touched by your concern. I count very few people on this earth as friends and I would not have predicted the little Gryffindor know-it-all would become someone in whom I would place in such trust.

There are many things to which you are not privy within the Order, many things you do not yet know. I know with absolute confidence my role as a spy is more important than ever. Whatever price I must pay along the way is worth it. Trust me on this.

I have found that there seems to be another after-effect of the treatment besides congeniality. I find that I am more sensitive to cold than usual. Do not advise me to keep bundled up and test my new-found congeniality.

Your concern for my well-being means a great deal to me.

Severus

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 13th, 1999

Severus,

Your safety and well-being are frequently on my mind.

I remember Potions classes when you assigned essays or gave surprise examinations instead of the brewing that had been scheduled. Those were invariably days when you did not move about the classroom as you normally do. At first, I wondered if you were tired because you had been up brewing all night for someone in the hospital wing.

It was not until my last two years at Hogwarts that I came to understand what those days really meant.

Perhaps I shouldn't speak of it, but I have seen the damage done to your body because of the role you must play. It is inevitable that you will take more damage from the Dark Lord. You cannot please him in all the things he asks of you. I know he will punish you for it in ways I cannot even begin to imagine.

I think of the suffering you have endured and continue to face because of your work for the Order. You have said that your work as a spy is worth the price. Lacking the knowledge available only to the senior members of the Order, I cannot debate the question. I can only wish it could be otherwise.

There is little I can do so far away. If only I were closer. I wish that there was something I could do to somehow make it easier for you.

Hermione

--------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Hermione

January 13th, 1999

Hermione,

You contribute more than you realize. Your research started us down the path of finding the new treatment for Crucio. I can honestly say that I am living proof of the fact that it is more effective than any other treatment known to the wizarding world.

No.

I am deliberately dissembling by responding to your journal entry by discussing the Cruciatus treatment.

It is the habit of a lifetime to deflect any discussion related to emotion by directing the conversation back to facts and events. Within the words of your journal entry is an underlying expression of your concern for me, going beyond the roles we play.

I have never dealt well with emotion. I am uncertain that I have ever known how.

Anger and rage are close associates and I am entirely accustomed to their presence and expression. Other kinds of emotions, those that express concern for others are unfamiliar and uncomfortable, perhaps because they are so rare in my experience.

Do not argue that they are rare. I know who and what I am. I do not inspire, nor have I ever sought warm feelings from others.

As long as I can remember, such feelings were too dangerous to allow. They meant a risk of vulnerability and to be vulnerable is to lose control. I have walked a fine line during my years of spying and the times in between. I have judged any loss of control; any vulnerability as too great a risk. I have learned to do without.

Thus, I reject, dissemble, avoid, and deflect with great skill.

I find at this stage in my life, I do not wish to continue in so rigid a manner. Yet, there is a very real danger in allowing my life to be conducted in any other way. Anyone who becomes important to me at any personal level is at risk of being used by the Dark Lord, if he discovers the connection. I am a skilled Occlumens, but an error on my part would be a catastrophe. If he discovers that I have hidden a single memory from his perusal, it will lead to his pursuit of all of them.

It is difficult to discuss such things through paper and ink. They are inadequate and I do not wish to have any miscommunication between us. When you return to England in February, we shall talk.

Severus

--------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 14th, 1999

Severus,

Then, I shall wait until I can see you in person to discuss this.

We're all coming down with head colds on the sixth floor at St. Germain Hall. I've got to visit the apothecary and get more Pepper-Up. If I had lab time today, I'd make it.

Have a good evening.

Hermione

**-------------------------------**

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To: Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m

From: Katherine East, Attorney at Law: Lawmagistra at awl . c o m

Date: 1/14/99

Re: Closing Date

I must congratulate you on the success of your negotiations with Patrick Mulligan's family. You have a very good building at an excellent price. In discussing the matter with the Mulligan's family lawyer, they will be ready for closing on February 1st at 5 pm at my office. This should enable you to finish your classes for the day. The closing should take about one hour at the most. I will have all legal documents ready for you perusal within the week and will be more than happy to explain any of them to you that might be confusing. Legalese is a foreign language of its own.

Please e-mail me back to confirm the date and time for the closing.

------------------------------

**Correspondence**

Delivered by Overnight Express

Encoded and only readable after using an Order of the Phoenix developed charm

January 15th, 1999

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I would like to ask a favor of you. Or perhaps it is of the Order. I'm not entirely certain of the proper entity to ask, so perhaps I shall ask the Order through you.

I should apologize. I am writing this in the middle of the night with a nasty head cold under the influence of a Muggle cold remedy called NyQuil. I am out of Pepper-Up and believe me when I say that will never happen again. I have the most bizarre dreams with this NyQuil stuff, though my nose seems to have stopped running. My head still feels like mush.

I think I'm digressing. Or rambling.

Anyway, I've been putting off writing this letter because I'm still embarrassed about practically everybody in the Order and probably half of Hogwarts knowing I'm qualified to brew maiden potions maiden brew potions make potions only a maiden can make or whatever. So, right now I'm sick and under the influence of this NyQuil which is making me feel really weird, and I can't sleep so I figure what the hell? I need to quit procrastinating and get this letter written and quit procrastinating.

I need to quit procrastinating. Right.

We have spring break at Avalon from 3rd to11th April. With Madame Pomfrey's help, I have the opportunity to brew fertility potions that must be maiden brewed for St. Mungo's.

Honestly, Albus, you would not believe how much they will pay for them. I could put myself through college and buy every single book I could ever want making potions for them. Crookshanks could have every cat toy ever made. Though he's perfectly content as long as he's got a catnip mouse. Do you think catnip is addictive? Maybe I should ask Minerva. Do you think she would be offended?

I'm digressing again, aren't I? Or rambling.

May I use the laboratory at headquarters for this? The maiden brewing thing, that is – not catnip experiments. I will, of course, supply all the raw materials needed, vials, etc. Professor Snape and I usually work in the afternoons and evenings, so the lab is available in the mornings. I would restrict myself to those hours and would not allow my contracted work to interfere with what we are doing for the Order.

See, it's not so bad writing this letter. I shouldn't have procrastinated.

At least I don't think it would interfere. Severus wouldn't be able to touch the cabinet I store things in because it's highly unlikely he's a virgin and if Mundungus Fletcher comes anywhere near the lab again, let alone pilfering things like our best silver cauldron, I'll hex a cauldron up his arse. Sideways.

Anyway, I'll be back in England for a three-day weekend in February and I'll see you then. Please give Poppy, Minerva, Severus, Arthur, Molly, Remus, Tonks, Harry, Ron, and yourself a great big hug from me. Oh, what the heck, give Mad-Eye a hug, too. He probably doesn't get nearly enough hugs. Gosh, I miss you guys.

I really like my college classes this semester, but I wish I were a lot closer than across the Atlantic Ocean and halfway across a continent. Isn't there room on the Hogwarts grounds for a branch campus?

Love,

Hermione

------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Hermione

January 16th, 1999

Hermione,

I am sending you Pepper-Up potion by overnight delivery. Do not take any more of that NyQuil under any circumstances. It clearly has a deleterious effect on you.

If you do not respond to this journal entry within four hours, I am sending Molly after you.

Severus

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 16th, 1999

Dear Severus,

Merlin help me, I actually wrote that letter and mailed it? I thought I dreamt it. NyQuil is horrible and I'm having a difficult time sorting out what I did and didn't do after I took it. There's a very good chance I placed a huge order for books from an Internet book shop called Amazon. I think I ordered frozen pizzas from Lou Malnati's Restaurant to be shipped to Arthur using the Ministry's Muggle mailing address.

Please tell me Albus didn't show that letter around. Oh, mercy. He did, didn't he?

Don't bother with the Pepper-Up. Just send me a vial of Peaceful Death and put me out of my misery.

Hermione

-----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Severus to Hermione

January 16th, 1999

Hermione,

You forget I am neither kind nor merciful; therefore the Pepper-Up is on the way. You will have to face the music on this one. It started before breakfast when Albus tried to hug me on your behalf. Your letter was shared only with Poppy, Minerva, and myself. Minerva confiscated it before Albus could go any further with it. Unlike myself, she is kind and merciful.

Minerva requested that I tell you catnip is not addictive, but the high is fantastic.

I do agree with you that Mundungus Fletcher should have a cauldron hexed up his arse should he go scavenging in our potions lab again. Sideways is an interesting perspective.

Have you learned your lesson about taking Muggle remedies? They do not always have their intended effect on wizards.

Severus

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 16th, 1999

Severus,

The Pepper-Up arrived safely and has done its job. My head feels much better and I can breathe again. We've had an absolute plague of colds run through the sixth floor and no one had any Pepper-Up left. I felt too horrid to go to the wizarding apothecary up the street, so I took some of Anita's NyQuil. It is an over the counter cold remedy here, but it ought to be illegal. I really think it made me hallucinate. I have learned my lesson about Muggle cold remedies.

Please tell me what I put in that letter. No, don't. I'm so mortified by what I said or might have said, I don't know if I'll be able to look my friends in the eye again.

_Hermione, are you writing right now?_

Severus, is that you? It looks like your handwriting. Of course, it has to be you. No one else could use your journal. Yes, I am writing right now.

_This is most remarkable. I sat down at my desk to begin marking Sixth Year essays on common interaction problems with aconite and saw the journal begin to glow. I opened it and saw your handwriting appear on the paper as if you were writing in it at the very moment._

I never thought to see how the journal transmits what is written in it. I assumed when the journal entry was finished, it transferred the whole of it to the other journal.

_It appears not to be the case. I see your words just as you write them. I assume it is the same in your journal?_

Yes, your words appear as you write them. This is something like chat room communication on a computer. Not quite a conversation, but the next best thing.

_I am unclear as to what a chat room is, but will take your word for it. This is a most useful development. For those occasions when you are not here and I would like to discuss something with you, we could establish a mutually agreeable time to communicate through the journals. It will be like talking things over._

Shall we attempt it now? How are you feeling?

_I feel quite normal. It has been a week and I am free of the aches, pains, and tremors usually associated with a Cruciatus attack. At this point, I should still experience hand tremors._

Were you successful in convincing the Death Eater sympathizers that you were recovering in the traditional manner?

_It appears so. I used connections to ensure the information was passed in the manner I wished. The secret of our new treatment is safe. How are you feeling?_

Better since the Pepper-Up. I know you are neither kind nor merciful, but it was thoughtful of you to send it. I don't remember all of what I wrote in the letter while I was under the influence of NyQuil. I suspect I owe you an apology. Are there others, besides Albus, I should be apologizing to?

_I suspect apologies are unnecessary. However, be prepared to accept a certain amount of teasing from Albus and Minerva when next you see them. Your letter was not offensive. It was, in fact, humorous._

Humorous?

_You made reference to being embarrassed about a significant number of your friends knowing about your maiden status and that you postponed writing the letter because of it. Then you state 'what the hell' and make your request to borrow the lab at headquarters for brewing the potions for St. Mungo's. You suggested that Mad-Eye Moody is in dire need of more hugs._

I said 'what the hell' in a letter to the Headmaster? I suggested hugging Moody?

_I do not believe the phrase "what the hell" has been directed to him in many years. He found it quite amusing. By popular consensus, the best part of the letter is where you mention Mundungus Fletcher stealing from the potions lab and threaten to hex him so he ends up with a cauldron sideways up his arse. I have rarely seen Minerva laugh so hard._

Please tell me they believe I was under the influence. I am not usually disrespectful.

_Yes, they believe it and you are not usually disrespectful which saved your House many points during your tenure as a Gryffindor. However, the letter revealed that you do actually think disrespectful thoughts, which was more amusing than what you actually wrote. There was a bit of speculation about what a few glasses of firewhisky might do to your tongue._

That hits closer to home than you might realize. There was party at the Weasleys last summer. I had too much to drink and went around telling all of the Weasleys how much I loved them. I still have not heard the last of it. There are only a few times I've ever had too much to drink. Last night felt rather like that. I suspect when I get buzzed, I may be inclined to be affectionate.

_An amusing image. I suspect the Weasley twins remind you of it on a frequent basis. Anyway, the Headmaster has authorized your use of the laboratory during your spring break. I have no objection to it and will keep away from the cabinet where you will store your supplies._

I am groaning out loud. I was hoping that part of the letter was a hallucination. I will never under any circumstances touch NyQuil again.

_A wise move. This is an interesting way to communicate and I believe will be useful in the future. For now, I think it is time for you to have dinner and I need to get back to my marking. _

Believe me, I could skip dinner and not miss anything worth eating. The food is awful here. Has Draco told you about his idea for next term?

_Go and eat anyway. It will help you fight off the cold. And do not tell me about Draco's ideas. He is likely to tell me in person when I see him next._

Yes, sir. I will behave myself if you will.

_Do not push your luck or I may not allow you to brew the Skele-Gro for the infirmary when you visit in February._

I shall consider myself chastised. Thank you for the Pepper-Up. Good night, Severus.

_You are welcome. Good night, Hermione_.

---------------------------

**E-mail Communication**

To: Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m

From: Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m

Date: 1/21/99

Re: Building arrangements

Don't worry about the tenants who already live in the building. I've made arrangements for them to move out as soon as possible. On February 1st, Resurrection Cynthia is going to move into the building and make her presence known to the tenants. That should get things going. She was really glad to have an invitation to get off of Archer Avenue and out of the cemetery for a while, though she says she'd like to go back and visit in time for all the ghost tours that come through.

All she asked in return was a regular supply of these butter cookies she used to eat when she was a girl in the 1920's. I got her a whole carton, but there are so many preservatives in those things, it could be years until they are moldy enough to taste good to a ghost.

Imagine all these years everyone's had the wrong name for her. No wonder she was mad about being called Mary.

---------------------------------

To: Draco Malfoy, Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m

From: Anita Schuler, Charmed23 at awl . c o m

Date: 1/21/99

Re: Methodology

It's very clever to bring in a wizarding ghost to scare the Muggle tenants out, but it is not an entirely ethical way to solve the problem.

That's probably why I like it. Do you think I could get an honorary sorting into Slytherin?

I'm glad Cynthia's going to get off the street (as it were). Seventy years is a long time to be strolling up and down the streets outside of a cemetery.

Anita

---------------------------------

Paired Journal Entry

Molly to Hermione

January 21st, 1999

Dear Hermione

I am so glad your cold is better. As for that Night Quill disaster, I really do think you should have learned your lesson from the time Arthur was attacked by that nasty snake of Voldemort's and almost died from having stitches put in from that healer who wanted to experiment with Muggle medicine. It's one thing to be fascinated by pull-top cans and another to trust a Muggle potion. No offense to your ancestry, but you are a witch and should know better.

Now, when exactly are you coming home in February? I thought I'd plan a nice Sunday dinner at headquarters so you can see most of our friends. Albus mentioned you wrote him a letter telling him you missed your friends back in Britain.

Arthur said to thank you for those little tins of sausages you sent him with the pull tops. He took them with him to work and said they had a great time pulling the tops off at the office. They're planning a little excursion to a Muggle grocery store to see all the amazing things available there.

We put the pizzas into the cold storage cabinet at headquarters. Ron, Harry, and Remus will be feasting right into the summer.

Molly

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Ginny to Hermione

January 22nd, 1999

Dear Hermione,

I got it, I got it, I got it!

Based on my most recent marks and glorious recommendations from Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster, I got the scholarship! All my apprenticeship fees at St. Mungo's will be paid, along with my textbooks and a living allowance. I move into the hall of residence on August 29th ready to report on August 30th for my first day.

I'm doing the happy dance!

We have to celebrate when you get back.

Oh, and I'm not pregnant. It was just a bit of a scare and you-know-what started yesterday. Harry is so relieved and so am I. He turned positively white when I told him. We are definitely being more careful from now on. We both want children, but not until we are both through with our apprenticeships, are married, and have a house. This means we're talking about 2004 or 2005.

And having Voldemort out of the way too would be A Very Good Thing.

I love Mum and Dad and am happy to have all my brothers, but I don't want to be poor and I want a more manageable number of children, like two or three.

Has the good-looking guy from Potions asked you out yet?

Big, big, big, big, hug!

Ginny

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Ginny

January 22nd, 1999

Ginny,

I am so happy and excited for you for both bits of news!

Of course they had to give you the scholarship. Your grades are excellent and they will really see how smart you are when you take your NEWTS. When you add all the extra work you've done for Madame Pomfrey, they'd be foolish not to give you a chance. You'll make them look good.

I'm very relieved that you're not pregnant. I don't doubt for a moment Harry would do the right thing by you and I've a suspicion you'll both make brilliant parents when the time comes, but it would be very difficult for both of you to make it work now.

Yes. We absolutely will celebrate. Get Harry to make reservations for the Enchanted Fork for February 13th. Oh, and it would be nice if he could get the evening off and join us.

The good-looking guy in Potions class is Warren's significant other and he's gay. However, I did have coffee yesterday with a young man who is homely as an old shoe. Turns out, he wants in on my team's cross-disciplinary project because his team kicked him off theirs.

Nope. Not the wizard of my dreams.

However, I am raising my teacup to you, Ginny.

Hermione

----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Lucius to Severus

January 23rd, 1999

Severus,

The Dark Lord summoned me this evening. He inquired as to your health and recovery from the recent unpleasantness. I told him you still seemed to be affected, tiring easily, etc. as we agreed. I suspect he is planning something and wants you to be involved. He inquired into my own health and encouraged me to get into dueling shape. I am to be summoned again in a few days with more details. If you are free, come out this weekend and we can talk.

Lucius

-----------------------------------

E-mail Correspondence

To: Warren Stevens: Nyluvrboy6 at awl . c o m , Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m

From: Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl .c o m

Date: 1/24/99

Re: A hair raising experience that didn't work

This latest version of the hair conditioner won't do at all. It left my hair gummy. It took three washings and Anita's extra strength cleansing charm to get it out. We think the rune Kenaz must have been reversed during the charm and turned the jojoba oil into some sort of lard.

------------------------

**Owl Mail Communication**

January 24, 1999

Mr. Patrick Pellworthy

It was a pleasure to see you again on January 9th. I fear our mutual friend and I may have had a misunderstanding, which I very much wish to resolve. If you could express apologies on my behalf and ask if I might be allowed to return to his presence, I would be grateful.

Sincerely

Simon Solomon

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Harry to Hermione

January 27th, 1999

Hi, Hermione,

You really ought to put warning labels on your gifts. I made the mistake of opening the box you sent me in front of Remus and now he wants to know why you sent me fifty vials of extra strength Contraceptus Potion. Actually, he pretty much knows why you sent it to me, but he doesn't know about the near miss Ginny and I just had. He must have a lot of confidence in your potions making abilities because he just snatched a couple bottles and went to floo Tonks. If you want to give him a birthday present, I have a suggestion.

Ginny just flooed me and said you sent her the female version of the same thing. That was a smart idea shrinking down the vials and hiding them in a new book bag. If Molly had realized what was in that pocket, I wouldn't have to worry about Voldemort. Molly would have taken me out.

This is the kind of gift only a really good friend could give, because you wouldn't dare trust the potion from an enemy.

Sorry, lame joke.

I guess if I'm protected and Ginny's protected, we might escape the Weasley Do-It-Once-Without-Protection-And-You're-Doomed Fertility Jinx.

You actually got class credit in your independent study for making all this?

I really do appreciate it. It saves me the embarrassment of going to an apothecary in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to buy it. I get recognized and the questions follow. All I need is a gossip column in the Daily Prophet to announce Harry Potter seen buying contraceptive potions to get all sorts of attention I do not need.

Neville is going to make the reservations at the Enchanted Fork for the 13th. It looks like the regular group is going to be there.

I have to run, on duty in half an hour and I'm late.

By the way, my stomach hurts from laughing so hard. I miss you.

Harry.

---------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

Hermione to Severus

January 29th, 1999

Severus,

The college is absolutely abuzz with excitement over the publication of _Physicae Alchemica _by Professors Littlehorse, Autrey, and Simonson. I know it doesn't come out in Great Britain or on the Continent until February 4th, so I am overnighting it to you.

It fits in perfectly with what we were talking about regarding how wizards use magic. They propose a theory that magic is the conscious ability to manipulate the Zero Point Field. Quantum physics predicts the existence of an underlying sea of energy at every point in the universe. It fills everything and is everywhere; in us and the instruments we use to measure it (in Muggle science) so we cannot ever separate it out because we are part of what is being observed. It is in what we once thought was the empty vacuum of space where at the temperature of absolute zero no thermal radiation exists. Muggle scientists propose that in this space, energy continually becomes matter and matter becomes energy. A few theoreticians have proposed that consciousness and memory actually reside here.

If magic is the ability to manipulate energy and matter through consciousness, the logical place for it to happen is in Zero Point Field where energy and matter are interchangeable. Their monograph proposes the theory, but they have not been able to determine the physiology of how wizards do this.

_Slow down, Hermione, I can feel your excitement through the pages._

Severus, I am so glad you opened the journal right now. Professor Littlehorse laid out the whole theory to us in class today. I wish you could have been there.

_It has been a decade or two since my last physics class and I have not kept up with it as I have with chemistry. However, what you have described so far is intriguing. You have already sent the monograph?_

I finagled an extra copy out of him. I told him I wanted to send it to Professor McGonagall. I feel a little guilty lying to him about it, but decided I'd buy a couple of extra copies when they come out to make up for it. I went directly to Trans-Atlantic Post and had them portkey it immediately, along with _The Dancing Wu-Li Masters_ and two other physics texts I thought you would enjoy.

_I am laughing at this end. Your enthusiasm for learning new things is a wonder_.

You're the only person I know who would understand what this is about. I just wish we were sitting at the kitchen table at headquarters so we could talk in person. This is so exciting. This could explain magic.

_It could explain the physics of magic. Without explaining the biology of magic, it is only one more theory. It is only a few thousand years ago that wizards were claiming magic was manipulation of the earth, water, fire, and air._

But it is exactly that except they didn't know earth, water, fire, and air were made up of subatomic particles. And the subatomic particles are made up of vibrating packets of energy called strings. When you think about strong and weak force, and the inability to explain gravity without considering the Zero Point Field….

_Stop! You have lost me. You are using unfamiliar phrases._

Severus, you're the smartest person I know. You haven't studied physics because you haven't got time to study everything in the known and unknown universe. A few nights of reading and you'll probably understand it far better than I do. The important thing is that we've got a leg up on them. We've got a theory about how the biology works.

_I appreciate your confidence in me as a quick study, but it is not likely to be that easy. As to the biology, the only basis of our theory is a suspected inability to use magic while under the effect of the Cruciatus Curse. We do not have proof that the ability to use magic lies in the neurotransmitters._

At the next Order meeting, we need to remind everyone to try and use magic if they are under Crucio.

Oh, Severus, that was callous of me. How could I even think of that, especially when it's only a few weeks since I saw you half dead from the effects of Crucio.

_I do not believe you are callous, just caught up in enthusiasm of exploring a new theory. What you write here is just between us and there is nothing wrong with brain storming possibilities. It is inevitable wild ideas will arise and some will be dispensed with fairly quickly. I dread to think what you would say if you had seen some of my brainstormed ideas when I was your age._

Still, I'm sorry. I wouldn't want you to go through that again for anything in the world.

_Thank you. I would prefer not to experience Crucio again, but it is a risk in my double role. I believe as things stand, I will read what you have sent me. _

Severus, has the Dark Lord summoned you since he almost killed you?

_No, but I anticipate a summons soon. There is no point in dwelling on this, Hermione. I will deal with it when it happens._

I know. You've been balancing all of these roles for most of your life. Someday it won't be necessary, Severus. Some day we will win and it will be over and you'll be free.

_Freedom is a relative term. None of us are every truly free, but perhaps I shall be less bound than I am now. But enough of this. I must be going to the Great Hall for breakfast shortly. Which means it is the middle of the night in Chicago. What are you doing up? Surely by now you have descended from your intellectually stimulated high from a class yesterday afternoon?_

I was asleep, but I woke up and my brain started working and that was the end of that. I'll probably be able to go back to sleep in another hour or so.

_Ah, I have the same problem from time to time. Do not stay up too late then._

I won't. Enjoy your breakfast.

_Good night, Hermione_

Good day, Severus

----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

January 29th, 1999

Ron to Hermione

Cool, Hermione. Fifty vials of contraceptive potion? Have I got a reputation that's been reported back to you somehow? Granted, Lavender and I, well you know how that is. But fifty bottles? Thanks for sending it to me at the drop box. If Mum got an eyeful of this, I'd never hear the end of it. Hell, she'd probably spank me.

That's some interesting class credit you're getting by supplying your best friends with contraceptive potions. But hey, it's never a bad thing to have a really good friend who is handy around a potions lab.

Oh, and I know about Ginny and Harry. They're just lucky Mum and Dad haven't figured it out, but when they do, the kitchen clock is going to move Harry's hand to Mortal Danger.

See you in a few weeks,

Ron

-------------------------------

Author's notes

Velveeta is a processed yellow cheese food that comes in a loaf. It doesn't have to be refrigerated until it is opened. It is tasty, but is full of artificial ingredients and preservatives. I suspect that in the event of a nuclear holocaust, all that will be left will be cockroaches and Velveeta. The Velveeta will probably mutate into a life form and eat the cockroaches.

NyQuil is a real over-the-counter cold remedy here in the States. I've taken it and had the most bizarre dreams. I don't take it anymore. Neither will Hermione. We've both learned our lessons.

Avalon College has adopted the American system of grading. A is excellent, B is very good, C is good, D is fair, and F is unsatisfactory. Not as clever as getting a T for troll.

For purposes of this story, Resurrection Cynthia is the true identity of the legendary Chicago area ghost called Resurrection Mary. There will be more to come about Cindy. For those of you who are interested in Chcago trivia, her preferred cookie is a regional favorite. It is baked in the shape of a flower with a hole in the middle. Several generations of children have delighted in eating the cookie in little tiny bites while wearing it on a finger until all that's left is a ring made of butter cookie.

The speculation about the properties of the Zero Point Field is well-documented. One of the most readable versions is in a book called _The Field_ by Lynne McTaggart _The Dancing Wu Li Masters_ by Gary Zukav is essentially quantum physics for the mathematically challenged folks such as myself. Both of these authors have websites if you do a search for their names.

Thanks to all my reviewers and motivators: Rinny 08, Droxy, AmiMizuno1, SSHGDMLOVE, Amsev, Joani-the-unique-being, Beate, LettyBIRD, Slytherinchick101, Duj, Applekissis, Notwritten, Hebi R., Muggle-to-the-max, Green-eyed-angel, Mugglemomof3, Arime Setta, Bakaonigirii, Maddie50, Danielle, HPWylie, Severus-Fan, Sister Nightfall, Aimisonrules, Karen Detroit, Mrs. Touchstone, Lyndi578, Millenia2, Evilmastermind666, MollysSister, Me613, Darque Hart, Adele Rose, and Pinkwands.


	51. Chapter 51

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia, who has been critiquing chapters at a phenomenal pace. She's had a rough week, so everyone needs to send her some positive thoughts.

----------------------------------------

Severus

February 1st, 1999

"This has got to be the coldest damn year I have ever spent at Hogwarts," I mutter over the chicken legs on my plate.

"Not by a long shot, Severus," answers Minerva, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, perhaps the coldest you have spent at Hogwarts, but I can assure you that 1963 was far worse. And we had a good deal more snow in 1947, blizzards of the sort I have not seen before or since. We could ask Albus or Filius about their recollections."

"Mercy, Minerva. Have mercy." I surrender. She wins, but then she usually does.

"Have you considered the possibility that the treatment you had last month has made you more sensitive to the cold?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer in between bites of chicken flavored with rosemary and lemon. Quite good, actually. "I believe it has made me more sensitive to the cold, but it is lessening. The first week, I only felt warm in the classroom with every cauldron on full boil."

That and in my bathtub with the water set to a slow cook temperature, but Minerva does not need to know everything.

"Still, a small price to pay considering how much pain you did not have to go through

this time," observes Minerva.

"Indeed," I reply.

We pause in our conversation and I survey the room. The Great Hall is noisy with conversation as is usual on a Saturday night. The Ravenclaw table is busy planning a chess tournament for this evening. Hufflepuff is having a party in their common room tonight to celebrate the betrothal of Edwin Simplesford and Charlotte Winbigler. Slytherin has no particular plans that I am aware of, but I am confident the little sneaks will be up to something. Gryffindor will probably be having a snogfest, which is fine with me. I will suss them out all over the castle tonight with concomitant reduction in House points. Amazing that Hermione could come out of Hogwart's most libidinous House without….

I have to stop this kind of thinking. I know I keep saying it to myself to the point where I am dizzy with repetition. I know full well where this kind of thinking leads and I saw the first round of it last night. Those little reminders from my subconscious about the kind of heritage I have, the kind of man I am capable of being.

It has been a while since I woke calling out for my mother, begging her to forgive me. At forty, one would think I should have found my way past this.

That is the dream I hate the most, the one where I become my father, where it is my hand around her throat just as it must have been at the end when Father strangled her.

I do believe Mother has forgiven me, but now and then I get a little reminder.

My thoughts of Hermione have triggered it. I care about her and am confident that she cares about me. Until she took care of me after the Dark Lord's Crucio, I kept telling myself it was only physical. I only desired her because she was equal parts untouched and nubile enticement. She is forbidden fruit, another daughter of Gryffindor for me to lust after.

The attraction is so much more than her body. I could lose myself in her mind.

I remember the youthful enthusiasm for a new idea, a new concept. The universe unfolding itself before me, one bit at a time. The sheer joy of learning and the pure delight when the pieces of the puzzle fit together into a recognizable pattern. The unparalleled wonder of discovery. We are more alike than I would ever have thought possible a few months ago.

She is attracted to me, probably by that same quality that draws me to her. It is nothing less than a miracle. Hermione cares about me. Me, of all people.

"A knut for your thoughts, Severus."

"The monograph she sent me. I was just thinking about it."

"I read it and did not understand much of it. I believe they think this would explain Transfiguration, but only by dissecting it down to a level I really do not wish to explore," she replies. "In my mind, to transfigure an object is to grasp the essence and _shift_, recreate order in a new form and new manner. To analyze too deeply is to take away the poetry and the fundamental magic of it."

"Charms and Potions could certainly be viewed in the same way," I respond. "We know with charms that certain words and wand movements combined give us a particular result when imbued with the magic of the wizard empowering them. It gives the appearance of power and energy created from nothingness. Potions are not potions until the ingredients come together in magical hands that somehow manipulate the parts so they equal far more than their sum. All of these things change at a fundamental level to create something, whether a form of energy or matter. The physics, as described in the monograph could explain why it happens, though it does not truly explain the how."

"And have you ideas on the how of it?" queries Minerva.

"I might, but we are a long way from having proof of it," I reply.

Minerva reaches over and pats my hand. More of the hand patting she has taken to of late. Oddly, I do not really mind the contact.

The dinner hour is almost over. The students are trickling out of the room as they finish. Minerva and I are the last of the teachers present as we finish our tea and apple crumble.

"What would you say to some role-playing this evening?" I inquire.

"That would be fine," says Minerva with a mischievous smile. "I have some brandy we could sample. Would half-past seven do? I know you were planning to go stalking the unwary about the castle tonight."

"And a fine night it should be for it," I smirk. "Slytherin will have the House Cup this year, mark my words."

"Even if I put an anti-lust potion in the water coming into Gryffindor Tower?" she quips.

"Especially so, because I know the antidote and it would make lust potions fair game in the competition."

Minerva laughs and pats my hand again. Hmmm. Seems I got in the last word for a change.

---------------------------

"This is bloody awkward, Minerva."

We are in Minerva's sitting room cuddled up on the sofa in front of a nicely crackling fire. My arm is around her shoulders and she is snuggled up against me. Two brandy snifters are sitting on the table in front of the sofa. With soft candlelight and the crackling log fire before us, it is a romantic scene.

We have tried three times to do a nuzzle and kiss while Minerva pretends to be inebriated and both of us start snickering like Third Year Hufflepuffs every time our lips get anywhere near each other.

"You are the one who is supposed to be the actor," giggles Minerva.

I do not believe I have ever heard Minerva giggle before.

"It is a well-known fact that Gryffindors cannot act worth a damn," she adds.

"It speaks volumes that the highly educated Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor cannot manage to fake a snog," I retort, rather cheekily.

"Perhaps because of our titles we are only good for head." Minerva breaks into a belly laugh, turning scarlet with embarrassment, which probably matches the color of my complexion as well. I am choking with laughter. I cannot believe Minerva just made such a smutty joke and about the two of us no less.

It takes a few moments for the two of us to regain composure.

"Your students would be shocked and dismayed to think you even know that term," I manage to get out while gulping for air.

"The students think anyone over thirty is a fuddy-duddy," she snorts. "They know we know about sex, but cannot imagine a teacher indulging in it without getting squicked." Minerva pushes herself out of my arms and looks at me intently.

"This just is not going to work. We need to start out with something less ambitious than kissing," she says.

"It needs to fit in with the notion that you are drunk or at least tipsy," I remind her.

Minerva stands, puts her hands on her hips and purses her lips as she concentrates.

"What if I walk over to you carrying the freshly refilled snifters, set them down on the table, and prepare to sit down? I could lose my balance, being tipsy of course, and land in your lap. We could have a bit of a snuggle and a laugh. Then I move over off your lap and onto the sofa. It could be a first contact sort of thing."

"A sound strategy, especially since we cannot seem to stop laughing whenever we try to kiss. As it is, I am going to have an assortment of memories from tonight to put in potions bottles in my mental dungeon room."

"Then I shall start the scene by refilling our brandies and then walk back over here with them," nods Minerva.

"Do not forget to swish like you have been drinking," I add.

"Absolutely," she replies.

Minerva picks up the two snifters and tosses down the last of the brandy in hers. She walks to the cupboard she uses as a liquor cabinet (and quite a stock she has indeed) and removes the bottle of brandy. She refills the two snifters and turns to walk back to the sofa.

She stumbles a bit, as if she is tipsy and laughs. Nicely done, Minerva.

She walks back with just a hint of sashay in her step and puts the glasses down on the table. As she straightens up, she appears to lose her balance and starts to fall into my lap. She misses and lands on my knees, I attempt to catch her, but am too late as she is sliding down my shins to the floor and comes to rest on my feet.

We are rolling with laughter again. I am trying to catch my breath, but howling with laughter seems to be interfering. I reach down and pull Minerva up. This time she really is sitting on my lap and we pull each other into an affectionate hug.

"You are not hurt, are you?" I ask, once again gasping for breath.

"My pride is gravely wounded," she chuckles, "but the rest of me is unharmed."

"If only I could show the Dark Lord these memories. He would be laughing so hard; Potter could sneak up behind him and hex him into the inner circle of hell."

"It is a shame Riddle is so lacking in his sense of humor."

"I hope he develops one quickly. I shall have to tell him we cannot become lovers because we are liable to be injured in the process."

My mood changes instantly. I feel a burning on my arm.

"Minerva, do you have a Pensieve? There is no time for me to take the emotion out of my memory of tonight," I ask urgently, grasping my left wrist.

She looks at me with surprise and then alarm.

"Right here, Severus." She rushes to the cupboard and opens a drawer at the bottom, withdrawing a small stone Pensieve. She returns and places it in front of me.

Holding my wand in my right hand and doing my best to ignore the pain in my left forearm, I move the tip to my head and remove the silvery traces of the memory of my evening with Minerva. I place the tip of the wand into the Pensieve and deposit the memory.

"Be careful, Severus," she whispers.

I rush to my dungeons to retrieve my Death Eater robes and to report to Voldemort.

--------------------------------

Once again, I have no idea where I am. Join the Death Eaters and see the world. A new recruitment motto, perhaps?

It is desert here. I am dressed for a bitter Scottish winter and I am standing in sand with air that is like a blast furnace.

I turn in a circle to see where I should go. Aha, a hut to the left of me. I cast a cooling charm over myself and breathe a little easier as I make my way towards the baked mud building. It is hard work to walk in dragonhide boots through the sand. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the glare.

A doorway with Pettigrew framed in it once again. How many times shall we replay this scene? However, this time I have mentally planned what I shall say and how I shall say it. Lucius has advised me of Pettigrew's boast that I now owe him a wizard's debt because he stopped the Dark Lord from killing me.

"Pettigrew," I nod.

"Snape," he returns with a sneer, "You remember?"

"Not entirely," I respond. "Lucius told me. Shall we discuss this later?"

"We certainly shall."

The vile little cocksucker stands aside to let me in. I look around and there is only enough magic here to keep the temperature tolerably hot. Of course, Voldemort would prefer the heat, being part snake.

Voldemort is here. Today, his black robes are lined with red. A frisson of fear makes its way down my spine as I bow and await his signal to approach.

"Come forward, Severus," he invites, his voice a soft hiss.

I take the half dozen or so paces forward and drop to one knee, my head bowed. I must appear the humble penitent.

My master holds out his hand with the skull and snake ring, which I dip my head to kiss.

"Rise, Severus." There is formality in his voice, unlike the last time we _visited_.

I stand before the Dark Lord with my head bowed. He steps back from me and sits in a chair. A plain chair and the only chair in the room, very unlike his usual thrones.

"You requested a private audience with me," states Voldemort. His red eyes are on me.

"I did, my lord." Now is the moment where I must bring up what happened. I hope I am alive five minutes from now.

"I have given much thought to the events of our last meeting and why I failed to elicit the mystical union from you." I speak as humbly as I can, giving the image of a repentant acolyte.

I can feel his anger flare without looking at him.

"How dare you?" his voice is dangerously soft.

"Master, if I cannot serve you in all ways then I have failed. I must explore my own failure. I cannot grow in my service to you and the Circle if I do not face my failure."

"Look at me," he hisses.

I am already prepared for the onslaught. I meet the Dark Lord's eyes.

I am sitting in my seat in the Potions classroom, smiling in anticipation as James Potter and Sirius Black add the moonflower petals to the asp blood. The cauldron meltdown is spectacular. Albus standing at the front of the staff room talking about the fair application of the House points system. Minerva smiling and inviting me into her rooms as she sees the bottle of brandy in my hand. Sitting in my favorite chair in my sitting room listening to the Wizarding Wireless as Madame Bones explains her plan to restructure the Ministry. Standing in the circle beside Lucius as the Dark Lord speaks to the Solvo Ira debacle.

"You are making progress with Professor McGonagall?" he inquires, unsubtle in his change of topic.

"Slow progress, master. McGonagall has been a widow a long time and is not comfortable with casual touch. Nor is it typical of my character as she knows it."

"Have you revealed your impotence to her?" asks Voldemort, surprisingly unperturbed for a being who really does suffer from impotence."

"No, Master," I reply. "I intend to use the necessary potion to relieve the condition when the time comes."

"Confess it to her," orders Voldemort. "Do it while she believes you are inebriated. Allow the confession to pose a challenge to her. She may find the notion of helping you with your problem irresistible. An older woman to help a younger man with his sexual dysfunction may prove a lure to her."

"An excellent strategy, Master," I reply with all the sincerity I can muster while I cringe inside. "I had not considered such a possibility."

"Pursue this strategy. If Dumbledore will not tell you where Potter is living, she must. Even if she cannot reveal a Secret-Kept location, she can give you some idea of the region where he is housed. Better yet, she can be persuaded to have the Secret Keeper reveal the location to you."

"I will, my Lord." I pause and bow my head respectfully.

I must try again.

"Master, I believe it is my duty to you to discuss my thoughts about my failure to achieve the mystical union. It is an uncomfortable topic. If my thoughts on this matter trespass where I am not permitted, I will humbly accept your correction in whatever manner you deem fit."

"Be very careful, Severus." The Dark Lord's voice is dangerous again.

I school myself to calm and begin.

"I have considered two possibilities, Master." I look at him respectfully. "The first is that I lack the skill and attraction to elicit the union. I am reclusive by nature and tend to live a celibate life both by choice and lack of opportunity. It is a failing on my part, but I confess I lack the necessary skills to bring my partners to a state where they achieve satisfaction."

Voldemort has not killed me, yet.

"Another possibility may rest with the dual nature of your body."

"Dual nature, Severus?" he asks, looking at me under the lids of his eyes, which have no lashes.

"You are an immortal being encased in a mortal shell."

"Explain," he demands.

"Dumbledore believes I am his man within the Death Eaters. Under the guise of needing more information about your nature, I asked him to tell me what Potter told him about his encounter with you at the Mirror of Erised. Potter reported that at the end, you appeared to be a mist or smoke and disappeared into the night. There is no doubt in my mind that you are immortal in that form and that that is the very core of your being."

I am not dead, so I take a breath and continue.

"Master, you created a new body for yourself using flesh from Pettigrew, blood from Potter, and a bone from one of your ancestors. What we know about the spell you used is limited. There are few reports of the long-term effects of living in a body created from it.

"Is it possible that a weakness from any one of those sources could appear in your body?"

"For example, Mulciber's mother is almost blind without her magical spectacles. Mulciber has the same problem. It appears to run in his family. Every living being inherits traits from his ancestors. Is it possible that your new body has inherited traits from Pettigrew, Potter, and your ancestor?"

I drop my voice to a whisper. "Potter's grandfather had diabetes, a condition that can run in families."

Voldemort is looking at me intently, but I cannot read his expression anymore than I could that of an asp.

"Tell me more," hisses Voldemort.

This is encouraging and I am not dead, yet.

"Diabetes is a condition where the pancreas does not produce sufficient insulin to allow the body to utilize blood sugar and keep it at a safe level. Symptoms can include excessive thirst, hunger, tiredness, weight loss, and vision problems. Complications from it can include heart disease and circulation difficulties."

I hope the Dark Lord will understand the reference to circulation difficulties.

"How is it treated?" asks Voldemort, pensively.

"Reducing sugar in the diet and if that does not work, then a potion to control it. A cure has not been discovered, but it can be controlled with charms and potions." I put a note of pleading into my voice. "I am your Potions Master and your loyal servant. My skills are yours to command. Allow me to be of service to you."

Voldemort sits silent. It appears I have struck home, because he is considering what I have said. I stand before him, silent until he gives me an indication to speak.

"You are dismissed, Severus. You are forbidden to speak to anyone of this." He raises a hand to waive me off.

"Thank you, Master." I drop to one knee again to kiss the ring, rise, and back out of the room.

I am more relieved than I can say. I was not entirely certain the Dark Lord would accept this from me. He denied nothing that I said.

Once again, I am outside. I see Pettigrew. He has transfigured something into a chair with a sun-shade and has a cooling charm in place. He appears quite relaxed as he looks up at me.

"Snape."

"Pettigrew."

"I saved your life, Snape."

"That is very likely so. Without your intervention, our Lord would probably have killed me. I owe you a debt that I am pleased to have repaid," I say snidely.

"What do you mean the debt is repaid?" replies Pettigrew, his squeaky voice nasty with malice.

I lean down and put my face close to his ear and whisper.

"Your mother had a heart condition. She died of it, as did her father and his father before him. I did not tell the Dark Lord this bit of information, nor do I intend to."

Pettigrew looks confused and then panicked as the realization sets in.

"Get out of here, Snape," he snarls.

"A pleasure as always, Pettigrew," I say smoothly as I turn and walk to the apparation point. He glares at me as I disappear.

-------------------------

"I have laid the groundwork with the Dark Lord," I report to Albus.

We are sitting in Albus' office, his bizarre magical toys and devices making whirring and clicking sounds around us.

Minerva hands me a cup of tea and summons another chair. She sits, the three of us forming a triangle in front of the fireplace.

"The important thing is that you have returned with your hide intact," she says. "You took an enormous risk by revealing what you know about his dual body."

"Dangerous, indeed," says Albus, "But absolutely necessary if we are to gain insight into the weaknesses of Riddle's mortal shell."

"Our only viable strategy is to use my role as the Dark Lord's Potions Master," I insist. "If he will trust me enough to allow me to participate in developing treatments for his medical problems, I can learn his weaknesses. We will find the weapon we need to defeat him."

"I understand the reasoning behind the choice the two of you have made to pursue this strategy," says Minerva. "My fear is that Riddle will use you in the manner you intend, but will never trust you with the knowledge you must have to help him. He will use you for research, take the knowledge, and hide how he uses it. When all is said and done, he will kill you, because anything you know will be too much."

Albus leans forward and strokes his beard thoughtfully.

"For twenty years," says Albus, "I have relied on Severus' ability to take the minutest pieces of information and recognize the pattern that others miss. The first clue we had in this mystery was a seven sided clover leaf that Severus plucked from the hem of the Dark Lord's robes."

Albus pauses to sip his tea and then continues.

"It is very likely that Riddle will do most of the research himself. Anything else would be foolish on his part. He will not trust anyone, including Pettigrew, with knowledge that can be used against him."

"However, Riddle does not have Severus' skill or judgment as a brewer. He used Dark potions and sorcery to make himself immortal. He made mistakes and in the process and was becoming increasingly inhuman. When the killing curse bounced off of Harry Potter, Riddle turned into a being of smoke and mist."

"In that form," continues Albus, "He was barely capable of interacting with the physical world and had only a fraction of his former ability to use magic. Until he used the Blood, Flesh, and Bone spell to create his new body, he was weak and nearly helpless."

"Riddle made enormous errors in his rapid pursuit of immortality. He created an immortal form, but a hugely flawed one. This is especially so when one thinks in terms of ruling the wizarding world."

Albus turns to me, smiling and twinkling.

"It is fortunate for all of us that he did not use your talents to their fullest potential. You would never have made the errors he did. You could have aided him in becoming immortal while remaining human in form and a powerful wizard in magic. Riddle has an enormous ego, but he is not stupid. We must assume he has learned something from his past experience. I doubt he will err to the same degree he did before. For the second time, he is living in a body that may betray him at any time. He must repair it if he is to pursue his plans for world conquest."

"I am his only Potions Master," I add with a smirk. "I shall appear to do all within my power to aid him. Unfortunately, the cure will always be a few potions away. In the process, I will learn enough about the flaws of his body to defeat him."

Minerva has been silent, her eyes moving between Albus and me.

"Take care, then," she says softly, turning her worried gaze to me. "You will place yourself only two or three potions away from Riddle doing away with you. This game you play is more dangerous than ever."

She is right.

-------------------------------

Author's Notes

If you check the weather records for Scotland, 1963 was the coldest and 1947 had the most blizzards during modern times.

For those who were unclear about it in the last chapter, Patrick Pellworthy is Peter Pettigrew and Simon Solomon is Severus Snape. Severus used these names in a letter to Pettigrew in one of the early chapters.

I received more e-mails about the NyQuil incident in the last chapter than just about anything else in this novel, so far. Apparently, quite a few of the readers have had bad experiences with it. Experiences range from racing heart beats, paradoxical effects, to feeling drunk (which was Hermione's experience). For those who haven't used it, you have been warned.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review! Amsey, Bakaonigirii, SSHGDMLOVE, Hebi R., Excessivelyperky, Tranquility, Potionscat99, Ms.understood, Joani-the-unique-being, Koliber, Mara Angel, Beate, Not So Chicken Little, Arime Setta, Jin's Girl 6, HPWylie, Duj, SevvyLover, Notwritten, Ami Mizuno1, Doodles Divine, Kirien, Latinachikita, Darque Hart, Snape's Witch, Severus-Fan, Evilmastermind666, Rinny08, Jocemum, PiperPaigePhoebe1, KKDuke, Maddie50, KarenDetroit, Droxy, Green-eyed-angel, Mrs. Touchstone, MollysSister, Ohhdarkstonedone11, LettyBIRD, Strangelittlefeeling, Adele Rose, Lyndie578, Mugglemomof3, Wynnleaf, and PinkWands.

I've got about ten of you I haven't replied to yet. Thanks for your patience. I've gotten more reviews and e-mails about chapter 50 than any other so far.

**Julia and I have kept up a pretty brisk pace in posting this story weekly. We are now both coming up on a season where we have massive Real Life commitments that won't allow us to do that. For the next few months, we will switch over to posting every other week. I've been revising and Julia has been critiquing chapters 51 through 60 like mad, so they will be posted on the every two weeks schedule. I would have liked to keep up with the weekly serial format, but it just isn't possible right now. Thanks for sticking with us!**


	52. Chapter 52

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia whose wonderful recommendations make this a better story. And her wicked sense of humor, which is giving me evil ideas.

This chapter is dedicated to Jocemum, Droxy and all the other readers who have lived in the Chicago area and understand about Salerno Butter Cookies, Italian beef sandwiches, Frank Lloyd Wright, horseshoe sandwiches, and Resurrection Mary.

----------------------------

Hermione

February 2nd, 1999

"At least the stairs don't move," says Draco as we head up the third flight of stairs. There are only three empty apartments in the building and two of them are on the top floor.

"Oh, fine," says Anita, "Just go ahead and brag about your old school. You had four of the most powerful wizards and witches of the time start your school a thousand years ago. St. Brigit's got started by two witches who couldn't find jobs doing transfiguration work."

"We each have our own cultural heritage," teases Draco.

We stop at the top of the stairway and Draco turns to the right and stops at the second door.

"This is a one bedroom apartment. The two bedroom apartments are at the front and back of the building," Draco fiddles with a ring of keys and inserts one after another in the lock until one of them unlocks the door. He steps inside and Anita and I follow.

"Not much of a view from this side of the building," remarks Draco as we look out of the window at the wall of the apartment building next door. "The two bedroom apartments have a better view. From the front, you can see the street and the back overlooks the yard.

"The living room is a nice size," I comment. "You could fit a sofa and two chairs in here, along with a coffee table and a stand for a television and a CD player. There's room for a desk and bookcase by the kitchen door. Personally, I'd have to sacrifice one of the chairs and have another bookcase. This is downright luxurious after the dorm."

Draco puffs up. He's so proud of himself, the little dickens.

"There are hardwood floors throughout the apartment, except for the linoleum in the kitchen and bath. I plan to have the floors refinished, replace the linoleum, and a fresh coat of paint on the walls. The skirting-boards and moldings have all been painted, but a little magic should remove that so I can see what kind of wood is underneath."

"Let's go look at the kitchen," says Anita, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him after her.

I tag along.

"This isn't bad either," I comment. "I like to cook and this kitchen is small, but fine for one or two people."

I mentally plan out how I would store things and point as I go. "I'd put a toaster here on the work-surface. The dishes could go in this cupboard and the pans in the one below. There's space to store tins and dry goods in that other cabinet."

I'm not going to tell them about my plans for doing a bit of brewing in the kitchen. I'm delighted to see there is a gas cooker. A little transfiguration to an inexpensive pan and I'll have a ring to fit over the burner, which will accommodate a cauldron very nicely.

I walk over to the refrigerator and open the door. "The fridge is adequate, though a bigger freezer would be nice. At a pinch, the last cupboard could become a cold storage unit with a little wand waving."

"I agree," says Anita. "When you consider that most of the residents will probably buy the communal meals prepared by a qualified service elf who can actually cook, this kitchen is perfectly adequate. Breakfast and lunch would be all the food preparation most will do."

"That's what I'm hoping," responds Draco. "It would be more feasible financially to limit the food option to a boxed lunch deal that could be delivered by the service elf to the tenant's refrigerator during the night and then a complete dinner served in the communal dining space on the first floor. Within reason, we could accommodate food preferences and cultural differences. I can guarantee the lasagna will never be made with Velveeta."

"Count me in," I reply.

"Ditto," says Anita.

"You two can be my first official tenants." Draco looks inordinately pleased with himself.

"You have to see the bedroom and bathroom." Draco takes Anita's hand again and walks her back into the living room. The bedroom opens directly off the living room to the right and the bathroom is next to it. Not the ideal arrangement. I would prefer a small hallway to keep them separate, but I could put up with it.

He waves us into the bedroom. The window looks out at the wall of the building next to us, but it is better than nothing. I make a note to myself to make sure I get one of the two bedroom apartments looking over the backyard.

I can use the second bedroom as a library and office. I need more room for my books than the living room can provide, especially after my NyQuil-induced massive order from Amazon. If anyone notices how many books I have about neurology, I'll have to tell them I'm considering specializing in neurological potions.

Crooks will be much happier for it, too. I can put up his window seat and he can look out and watch the birds in the backyard. Oh gosh, there's enough space here that I can put the litterbox away from the living area.

"Will the backyard be warded to keep familiars from getting out?" I ask.

"Yes," replies Draco, looking at Anita, "There's a wizarding company your father recommends that I'll have do it. They'll put up a privacy fence first. Surrounding the yard with all that wood, plus the two big trees in the backyard will provide an anchor for the wards. Owls will be able to get in, but familiars won't be able to get out. Crookshanks and his buddies will be free to climb the trees without any chance of getting out into the street."

"If it's the same company that did the wards around our house, they can also do wards that act like a burglar alarm," adds Anita, "There should be anti-Muggle wards, too. There aren't very many exclusively wizarding apartment buildings in Chicago. We wouldn't want Muggles walking in. The tenants are probably going to be careless about using magic inside the building."

"They'll be walking around the hallways with their wands in their hands," I comment absently.

Draco and Anita are looking at me, agape. Anita starts to giggle. Draco's chuckling.

"Did I say something funny?" I ask, confused.

"Think, Granger, think," coaxes Draco.

I'm thinking.

"Oh." I think I'm blushing. "I don't think I meant that quite the way it sounded."

Now, all of us are laughing.

"I'll have to put up signs warning the tenants to keep their wands in the proper receptacles at all times," snorts Draco.

Anita strolls up to Draco with a look of confidence I wish I could mimic. She puts her arms around his neck and presses up against him. Draco runs his hands down her back to her rear end and pulls her even closer.

"I'll just have to make sure your wand is properly holstered," she says, giving Draco a very saucy smirk.

"You might just be the right woman for the job," he's whispering into her lips as the two of them get caught up in the kind of kiss one normally only sees on movie screens.

I unsubtly turn to look out the window to give them a little privacy.

They're still kissing.

I didn't realize people make that wet sucking sound when they kiss. There must be some tongue action involved.

They're still kissing.

Honestly, they've got to come up for air sometime.

I wish I could pull off something like that with Severus.

If I tap my foot, would they remember I'm here? I could cough.

I think I'll clear my throat.

"Ahem."

That wet sucking sound has stopped.

"I'd like to see the rest of the apartment," says Anita, her voice shaky.

I turn around and smirk at the two of them. They're flushed and I don't think it has anything to do with blushing.

Draco and Anita are standing about a foot apart, regaining their composure. He makes eye contact with me, looks away, looks back at me and grins like the Cheshire cat.

"Okay, you two," I say with mock sternness, "Save it for when you get back to the dorm."

Now they're holding hands and smiling at each other.

"Right," says Draco, "Back to business."

His attention returns to giving us the tour. I'm still smirking when Draco launches into a description of the built-in closet in the bedroom. This sort of closet is common in America and doesn't take up room in a bedroom the way a wardrobe does.

"The closet isn't very big, but that's what magic is for," comments Draco.

"The bedroom is big enough for a queen size bed and a chest of drawers. I really don't need more than that," says Anita, flirting. They might have separate apartments, but I know where they'll be sleeping. I can't help but smile when I see Draco grin knowingly at Anita. It isn't one of his arrogant grins; it's a genuinely happy grin.

"Let's see the bathroom," I suggest. I lead the way out this time.

The bathroom is small, with a porcelain washbasin, medicine cabinet, smallish tub, and a toilet.

"I am going to have each of the bathrooms magically enlarged to accommodate a larger bathtub and fittings. The contractors will have to include that in their proposals to get the job. These bathrooms are just too small and utilitarian," says Draco.

Anita and I nod. We didn't choreograph it, but it must look that way.

"Remember the Prefects' bathrooms at Hogwarts?"

Draco nods and smiles at the memory.

"You should have seen it, Anita. You could do laps in the bath. There were several taps with choices for bubble baths, but I'm pretty sure they only got used in the girls' bathroom," demurs Draco.

"There was one that had the nicest sandalwood scent," I add. "Do you remember that one?"

"Oh yes," he replies absently. At which point Anita and I burst out laughing.

"You never used it, eh?" nudges Anita. Draco looks sheepish.

"Maybe once when I was eleven."

"You sneaked into the Prefect's bathroom when you were eleven?" I tease until I notice the room temperature is starting to drop rather dramatically.

"Draco? Are you in here?" There is a woman's voice in the living room.

"Cindy?" calls Draco. "We'll be right out." He waves us ahead of him and we go back into the living room.

She's a ghost. A wizarding ghost, that is.

The woman must have been in her twenties when she died. She's dressed in a fringed flapper's dress from the Roaring Twenties and floating about six inches off the floor. She's pretty, with short hair that was probably blonde, and wearing a headband with a big feather trailing from it.

"I'm glad you're here, Cindy," says Draco. "You remember Anita from last autumn?"

"Of course I do. It's good to see you again. I'd offer to shake hands, but you know how that is when you're dead." The flapper turns her head and looks at me. She has really nice features. The Gray Lady of Ravenclaw would be jealous. "And this is?"

"Allow me to introduce Hermione Granger," says Draco. "Hermione is a friend of mine. We've known each other since we were snotty little kids."

"And now we're snotty adults," I quip. "How do you do? May I call you Cindy?"

"Please do, if I can call you Hermione?" she says. "It is so nice to be able to talk to corporeals again. I enjoy all those Muggles hunting for me, but you just cannot have a decent conversation with any of them.

"Muggles are hunting you?" I am confused.

"Just the ones who are looking for Resurrection Mary. I'm her," says the ghost, with a wave of her hand, which just happens to be holding a long cigarette holder with a translucent cigarette in it.

"We heard all about you on the tour at Halloween. But you're not named Mary?" I ask. This is really interesting.

"Heavens to Harriet, no. I am Cynthia Derwinsky, formerly of the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago." She takes a drag on her cigarette. "They've had the story wrong for-ev-er," she emphasizes.

"Cindy, why don't you tell Hermione the whole story," suggests Draco, "She went with us on the tour last year."

"Sure, sugar," replies Cindy, who adjusts her floating position so she appears to be sitting with her legs crossed on a non-existent chair. The three of us _corporeals,_ as Cindy referred to us, are standing around her in the empty living room.

"The most popular Resurrection Mary story goes that I died in the 1920s in a car accident after going dancing at the O'Henry Ballroom on Archer Avenue. It was January and there was snow and ice on the road. The car I was riding in skidded and crashed into a viaduct in Chicago. I was thrown out of the car and killed instantly while my boyfriend escaped unscathed. My parents had me dressed in my nicest party dress and buried me out at Resurrection Cemetery."

"Since then, I'm supposed to wander up and down Archer Avenue until somebody stops and offers me a ride. I tell them to drive by the cemetery and then disappear from the car when they get to the gates."

"The last part is right, isn't it?" I ask.

"That's the fun part of it," she replies, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I had no idea a ghost could simulate breathing, let alone smoking.

"It's the first part they've got all wrong. They mistook me for some girl named Mary Begarvy who's the right age, died the same year I did, and is buried out at Resurrection cemetery. I am really, really sick of being called Mary."

"Tell her the rest, Cindy," says Draco.

"For starters," says Cindy, flicking ash on the floor where it vanishes. "For starters, I'm a witch and the circumstances of my death were really due to my own stupidity," she says, rolling her eyes. "I was planning to brew wart remover. I had a terrible time with getting warts on my hands. So I needed some graveyard dirt and stopped on my way out to the O'Henry and got a little from Resurrection Cemetery."

"My boyfriend, Arnold, it's all his fault," she continues. "Arnold came with me to the cemetery because he did the side-along apparating for us. My apparation license was revoked because I splinched the month before while apparating drunk. We went to the O'Henry and danced, but we had an argument and he apparated home without me. He didn't even remember that I'd be stranded. Well, I had too much to drink and started walking, figuring I could hitchhike home."

"It was June, not January and the weather was fine. I wasn't watching where I was going and stepped in front of a car and apparated away just before it hit me. I think that's where the stories started. Anyway, I really splinched that time and they couldn't put me back together. I was a ghost before I knew it. Because I died with the graveyard dirt in my purse, I got pulled back to Resurrection Cemetery and I've been a hitchhiking ghost ever since. I'm not even buried out there. My bits and pieces are out at Rosehill Cemetery on the north side of the city."

"That's a remarkable story, but why didn't you just tell them your name?"

"I did," sighs Cindy, "but all those Muggles seem to hear is the '_y'_ at the end." She straightens up and pulls a spaghetti strap from her dress back up on her shoulder.

"It's not a bad job, by any means," she continues. "I do enjoy putting in the occasional appearance on Archer Avenue to keep the story going. There's nothing like the look on a Muggle's face when I disappear from the front seat of his car. But, I really appreciate Draco here giving me a chance to be around wizarding folks again. I can be a proper ghost here once all the tenants move out and the wizards move in."

"How can you leave Archer Avenue? Isn't that your required haunting territory?" I ask.

"I'm a hitchhiking ghost. I can go anywhere as long as I go in a vehicle. After I met Draco and Anita last fall and the two of them told me about the ghosts at your school, it sounded like a really nice job. I think it's the cat's meow how they look after the students and guard the school and all that. When Draco told me about making this an apartment building for students at a wizarding college, it sounded like a great opportunity. I can hang around here and impart wisdom to the students and all that stuff, and scare off intruders. This is a once in a deathtime opportunity and I don't want to miss it."

"We talked it over and came to an agreement about Cindy moving here as soon as I bought the building. I went out yesterday and picked her up," says Draco.

"Draco, you only have your permit. You're not supposed to drive without a licensed driver in the car," lectures Anita.

"Adam came with me," explains Draco. "He wanted a chance to meet Cindy and it gave me some great driving practice."

Cindy re-crosses her legs, emphasizing the short skirt she is wearing.

"Adam is a very nice young man and it was kind of him to accompany you so you could come and get me. He's got good manners and is very gentlemanly." She takes another drag on the cigarette holder and exhales. "You know, it's been fifty years since I've been this far into the city. When I'm in a car, I usually make to the edge of the city of Justice and then leave. I haven't been past Cicero Avenue since the seventies. It has really changed, with all the stores and traffic along the expressway, who would have thought it? Anyway, you now have a house ghost to call your own and I am ready to go to work."

"There really won't be much to do until the tenants move out, the remodeling is done, and the students move in," says Draco.

Did Cindy just wink at him?

"That's alright," replies Cindy. "I'm sure I'll find a way to occupy myself. With my being here, any other wizarding ghosts in the neighborhood will know I'm here and maybe they'll visit. Being a hitchhiking ghost, I have a greater range than most as long as I'm in a car, but I can't leave this building and the ground that comes with it without getting yanked back to Resurrection Cemetery. If I disappear for a while, that's probably what's happened. So, if someone could come out and get me, I'll come right back. Would you know offhand if there are any neighborhood ghosts here?"

"I know the movie theater down the block is haunted," says Anita, "But it might be a Muggle ghost."

"It probably is," says Cindy with a sigh. "But, it really is just a matter of time. If there are lots of wizards and witches in this area because of the college, sooner or later somebody will die tragically and end up as a ghost and I'll have company. There really aren't very many ghosts who hang around cemeteries and it got pretty lonely out there. Here, there are live people and I'll bet there are some ghosts somewhere. Will there be familiars in this building?"

"I plan to allow familiars," says Draco.

"Oh, good. I especially like cats. Owls would be great, too," replies Cindy happily.

"There won't be many owls," replies Draco. "They are too noticeable in the city so most people don't bring them. We use e-mail instead."

"E-mail?" Cindy looks puzzled by that one.

"You'll see," says Anita. "I'll be happy to show you how it works."

Cindy decides to stand up and take a stroll around the room. Her silvery high heels click on the hardwood floors.

"I'm looking forward to getting to eat more often," says Cindy, strolling towards the kitchen. "Of course ghosts don't need to eat, but we like to. I'd like to have pizza more often. Out on Archer Avenue, I only got it when somebody would throw a carton out of the car window with a last slice or two left and usually the raccoons would get it before I did." She gives Draco a flirtatious look. "At least cutie pie here is going to make sure I get my favorite cookies again."

Draco blushes. "I'm really not comfortable with nicknames, if that's all right Cindy."

"Oh, I suppose," she sighs dramatically. "I really mean it about the cookies. I like butter cookies, vanilla wafers, windmill cookies, really just about any kind. I prefer the ones I remember from being a kid. One of the nice things about being dead is I can eat all I want and never gain an ounce. I did have some fun with a Muggle once. He gave me a ride and when I disappeared, I took his box of Twinkies with me. I hid them in an empty crypt until they got really good."

I really don't want to think of what it would take to get a Twinkie moldy. Those things would probably survive a nuclear holocaust with all the preservatives in them. I've decided I like Cindy. She's a drama queen, but she's friendly and could probably be a lot of fun at a party if she doesn't freeze out the room.

"I understand that for now, I have to be careful about who sees me and when. I'll probably hang out in the basement a lot. Will you keep these three apartments empty? If you do, I can be in them too."

"The three apartments that are empty now will stay empty. The tenants who have leases that run out in the next few months have already been told they won't be renewed. I'm going to give all the others a financial incentive to give up their apartments early by offering the last month's tenancy rent-free," says Draco.

"Do you think it will be enough to get them to leave?" I ask.

"I think so," says Anita, looking at Cindy.

I have a sneaking suspicion something is going on here with Cindy's arrival. I'm not sure I really want to know, but I'll bet she's supposed to encourage reluctant tenants to leave.

"Just be careful about the memory charms," I suggest. "They can go wrong, you know."

Draco is looking at me in complete surprise and just a hint of disbelief.

"Well, you don't want the Muggle tenants going around telling their friends about Cindy, do you?"

Now the three of them are gaping at me. Cindy breaks the silence.

"You told me to be careful what I said around Hermione and here she's figured all of it out anyway," grumbles Cindy.

Draco is walking around me looking me over. I can't help but laugh.

"Hermione, are you sure you were properly placed in Gryffindor? You are expressing sentiments more likely to belong to Slytherin."

"What you are doing would be illegal in Great Britain," I reply. "It isn't illegal in the United States, from what I understand of wizarding law here. It's unethical and you're a scoundrel for doing it, but if it isn't illegal I'm not going to criticize you any further. I've said my piece. You're an American robber baron in the making, but I like you Draco Malfoy."

Draco bursts into laughter and walks towards me holding out his arms. I walk right into them and we share a quick hug. I can't believe this. Draco Malfoy is my friend.

"Draco, I believe we've corrupted her," chortles Anita.

I suspect it has something to do with spending so much time around Slytherin men.

"Well, that's good. It's going to make my job easier since I won't have to skulk around," huffs Cindy as she resumes her invisible seat in midair.

"You're not planning to scare them badly, are you?" I ask.

"Not badly," replies Cindy. "I only plan to let them see me now and then. The ones who are really stubborn about it, I can blow a little cold air on them, a touch on the shoulder, that sort of thing. Enough to make them uncomfortable."

"Add the incentive of getting their last month rent free if they want to leave early, I think we can have the building cleared by May," says Draco. "I can have the contractors in to do the work in June and have some of the apartments ready for students who plan to go to summer school."

"Which would be us," adds Anita.

"As long as Cindy doesn't go to extremes, it shouldn't attract too much attention," Draco continues. "I already checked with the lawyer and she says I'm not breaking American wizarding law. She says this sort of thing is done all the time."

"We're much looser regarding restrictions against using magic on Muggles, especially when it gives us a business advantage," explains Anita. "In this case by using a ghost, we're actually using less magic to interfere in Muggle life than might be the case otherwise. We probably won't have to use Obliviate on anyone. Though we might add a repulsion charm or two encouraging an interest in staying away from this building and add an attraction charm to get them interested in that building up the street. The apartments and rents there are equivalent to what is here. We just want to encourage people to give up their apartments and move, not run screaming from the building."

"Spoilsport," interrupts Cindy. "You haven't lived or died properly until you've seen a terrified Muggle run screaming down the street."

"We can't all live or die up to your standards, Cindy," says Draco. "You've got seventy-five years of experience on any of us."

"Well, just you youngsters remember that when I get to working on our little project," retorts Cindy, "I've got plenty of experience in getting Muggles to leave wherever I'm at, so I expect some freedom in choosing my methods."

"Just remember to stay within the parameters we discussed," says Draco sternly. "The last thing I need is a Muggle newspaper or one of those Muggle ghost hunters to get wind of what we're up to. That would definitely get us in trouble with wizarding law enforcement."

"I won't forget," assures Cindy, "I'll be subtle."

I have my doubts that Cindy can be subtle, especially when she pronounces the _b_ in subtle.

"What are your plans for this week?" asks Draco.

"Noises, mostly," replies Cindy, demonstrating by rapping her knuckles against a wall resulting in a sound like someone knocking on the wall. She walks across the room again, high heels clicking on the wood floor. "It's pretty effective when they can't see who's making the noise. There's also going to be a very annoying cold spot in the laundry room in the basement. Next week, I'll send cold breezes through some of the apartments and I'm considering letting myself be seen in the foyer. That should get things off to a fine start."

"Very good," affirms Draco. "I have classes and studying to do, so I won't be back during the week. Saturday morning, I have a driving lesson. I'll plan to come back Saturday evening. I believe I will set up a desk and phone in this apartment and use it for an office for now. I can't bring in wizarding contractors to do any work on the building until I get at least one floor empty."

"Will the three of you come back Saturday?" asks Cindy plaintively.

The three of us exchange looks and Draco nods.

"We'll all be back," says Draco. "Why not plan on meeting us in this apartment at 7 pm?"

"Could you bring a music player like the one you had in the automobile?" asks Cindy. "We could have a little party and I'll teach you the Charleston. Arnold and I won dance contests with our Charleston."

"We'll see what we can do," says Anita, exchanging an amused look with Draco.

I can see what little social life I have evolving before my eyes. Studying weeknights with Draco and Anita and sometimes Warren. Working on the cross disciplinary project with Draco, Anita, and Warren. My Saturday nights are going to be spent fixing up an apartment building with Draco and Anita and learning dances from the Roaring Twenties from a flapper who died seventy-five years ago. Oh, well. It beats hanging around with Moaning Myrtle in the girls' bathroom at Hogwarts.

I can't wait until I see Severus. This wouldn't tell nearly as well through the journals as it will in person. I wonder if I can make him laugh.

--------------------------------

Author's notes:

Twinkies are a vanilla flavored snack cake, shaped similarly to ladies fingers, made with a golden sponge cake with a creamy filling. Supposedly, they have a twenty-five day shelf life, but I've known people to keep them around for six months or more without any appreciable change in texture or freshness. I think their primary ingredients are preservatives.

The story about Resurrection Mary's origins is a popular one in the Chicago area. As a paranormal investigator, I think most of the Resurrection Mary legend is exactly that, a legend. There may be a real haunting on Archer Avenue at the heart of the story, but so much has been embellished, the true story is lost. Her name probably isn't Mary and most likely she hasn't done ten percent of what has been attributed to her.

However, she makes a great story on a ghost tour as you drive down spooky Archer Avenue by Resurrection Cemetery at midnight.

Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed this story or sent me an e-mail about it: Crystalvoicedcamelotlady, SSHGDMLOVE, Severusandremusslash, Latressa, Saz, Amsey, Beate, Golden Enki, Kirien, Jocemum, Sacsbaugh51487, Joani-the-unique-being, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Duj, Notwritten, Danielle, Excessively Perky, Severus-Fan, Evilmastermind666, The EmperorsSister, Maddie50, AnokiNantaras, Me613, Latinachikita, Ami Mizuno1, HebiR, Droxy, HPWylie, Droxy, Squeaker19450, MollysSister, Mrs. Touchstone, Doodles Divine, KKDuke, Green-eyed-angel, Abby, Lyndie578, Bakaonigirii, Darque Hart., Koliber, Mugglemomof3, Severusandremusslash, Erytha, and Darth kittius.


	53. Chapter 53

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for her suggestions and critique of this chapter. She told me I needed to put more in here about Hogwarts and the Order, which led to this whole series of ideas and the necessity of splitting this chapter into two parts because of the length.

_Looking for Magic_ is receiving the singular honor of being translated into German by Katya Krohn. Since I cannot include a link here, _Auf der Suche nach Magie_ can be found by linking from my _Hypnobarb_ homepage here at this website or by looking for _Katyes_ homepage. A search will work just fine, too.

Thank you, Katya, for all of the work you have put into the translation. She's made quite a commitment, since I think this story will run about ninety chapters.

Thanks are owed to Duj, who explained how to get the extra spaces out of the story so it would look right. It has finally gotten through my thick skull how to do it. Apologies to everyone else who tried to explain it and I just didn't get it. My only excuse is I learned how to use Word Perfect in 1989 and find it exceedingly challenging to do word processing differently than what I learned then.

---------------------------------

**Correspondence,  
****February 1999**

---------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: Filius Flitwick, C.M., Severus Snape, P.M.., Pomona Stout, M.H., and Minerva McGonagall, T.M.  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 1st, 1999  
Re: Incident

I expect an internal investigation to learn the identity of the person or persons who enchanted the brassieres off the Hufflepuff girls. To say the least, the young ladies were humiliated to find their undergarments flying like flags from the castle turrets.

I would be especially interested in discovering what spell was used. It was most creative.

This action, however, is insupportable. As I am certain the young ladies would attest.

-----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 1st, 1999  
Lucius to Severus

Severus,

You may as well plan to spend the full weekend of the 12th here at the Manor. The Dark Lord intends that you and I shall provide a full range of dueling training for about twenty selected participants. We will not be told who they are until they arrive. I do not know if the Dark Lord will be here at any time to observe.

I hope I am physically up to the demands of running the drills. I believe I will accept your offer of a stamina-enhancing potion.

I do not know what he is planning to use the trainees for.

Lucius

-------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum  
**

To: Rolanda Hooch, F.M  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 1st, 1999  
Re: Was this the best way to solve a problem?

I appreciate the effort that went into removing the brassieres from the castle turrets. I am confident the Fifth through Seventh year Hufflepuff girls appreciate the return of their undergarments.

However, it seems there might have been a more discrete way of accomplishing this task than having the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams use them for snatch and run high speed flying drills.

Pomona has complained that some of her girls have been harassed about their cup sizes by some of the males involved in the practice session.

-----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry**

February 2nd, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

It appears that I will be unable to meet with you on the weekend of February 12th. I cannot explain to you why this is, so I am confident you will read between the lines.

As long as you are going to be here, I would impose upon you to prepare a four-month supply of the Wolfsbane base for Remus. Your upcoming college holidays do not match well with the three-day period before the full moon when the preparation of the second step must be done. I will complete it for him each month and we will complete your training this summer.

You may go ahead and prepare the external Cruciatus treatment with the five percent increase in the veneno mentha viridis. There is a list of potions needed for the infirmary. These are general stock and you have prepared them before. I have complete confidence in your ability to produce these potions without my immediate supervision.

I have just been alerted to an altercation in the Slytherin common room. I have noted that the absence of Mr. Malfoy has left an inadequately filled power vacuum in the House pecking order. The roosters have taken to challenging each other with the intent of impressing the hens. This is the third time this week and I am giving serious consideration to the purchase of a Muggle shotgun.

I am disappointed that we will not have any time together while you are in England.

Severus

------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum  
**

To: Filius Flitwick, C. M., Severus Snape, P.M., and Minerva McGonagall, T.M.  
Copy: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
From: Pomona Sprout, M.H.  
Date: February 2nd, 1999  
Re: One mystery solved

My apologies to all of you regarding the recent incident when members of your Houses were accused of magically stealing the brassieres from the Hufflepuff girls.

Oliver Cremens, one of my Third Years, was responsible. Apparently bets were being taken among the boys of that year as to which girl in Hufflepuff had the largest cup size. It appears Mr. Cremens is a bit of a Charms prodigy and determined the means to find out.

I have not been able to determine who hung them from the turrets.

**-----------------------------------**

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 3rd, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

I understand that you don't have control over the demands others make of you. It isn't necessary for me to return to Chicago until the afternoon of the 14th. Could we meet for breakfast on that Monday?

I suppose I'm being obvious. It has been a month since we had the opportunity to talk. There are so many exciting things to discuss: the Zero Point Field, our Cruciatus treatment, Wolfsbane.

No. Now, I'm dissembling.

I simply miss you.

Hermione

---------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 4th, 1999  
Hermione to Harry

Harry,

I'm really looking forward to getting back home, though I'm disappointed you and Ron are on duty on Saturday and Sunday. At least we'll get to spend some time together on Monday. We'll just do lunch on Monday instead of dinner on Saturday night.

Do you think Neville might be able to get away to meet up with the three of us? I know Lavender won't be able to. Imagine getting to go to Paris with her boss to finalize the autumn line of robes. She's really doing well, isn't she? How serious do you think Ron is about her?

Yes, my hair project is coming along nicely. We're working on the hair conditioner now. They haven't got my hair down to waves, but the frizz is gone and my hair is much softer than it used to be.

Maybe our next product will be for guys with bits of hair that like to stick up in all directions.

Hermione

---------------------------------

**Post-It Note Communication  
**February 4th, 1999  
Left on desk in Apartment 302

Cindy,  
Great job on the guy in 105.  
Check in the cabinet over the  
stove for the pizza. Should be  
just the way you like it.  
Draco

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**February 4th, 1999  
Draco to Lucius

Father,

I will plan to come home for the weekend of the 12th. As you and Severus have recommended, I have practiced blocking my mind daily and have placed several memories in my hiding room. I can come home right after my morning class on Friday since I don't have one in the afternoon. Will Severus be able to come early to test me before I have to face the Dark Lord?

There won't be much for the Dark Lord to see regarding Granger, other than at mealtimes, class, and fixing up the apartment building. I keep a close eye on her and see no signs that Potter or Weasley visit at all. If anything, she seems worn out from overworking herself.

The Dark Lord will be pleased with my progress with the Schuler family. Between dating his daughter and asking for his advice about my business plan for the apartment building, I've integrated myself into their family as potential son-in-law material. Plus, with the apartment building project, I am learning about wizarding commerce, law, and education in the United States, just as the Dark Lord wanted. I will have my report ready for him when I return.

Everything is going as planned with the apartment building. Bringing in the ghost, combined with repulsion spells, is speeding up the departure of the Muggle tenants. One whole floor will be empty by the first week in May and the rest of the building by the first week in June. I used a little influence on a couple of other apartment buildings in the area to increase their attractiveness to my current tenants.

I had no idea this could be so much fun. I understand why you enjoy business enterprise as much as you do, Father.

I am almost ready to take my driving test. I have to practice parallel parking. That involves manipulating the car into a space just big enough for it in between two other cars and yet very close to the curb. It is more difficult than one might think, especially since no magic is allowed in the process. Once I have that down, I am certain I will pass the test.

Please tell Mother I appreciate the gloves and scarf she sent me. She does not need to worry so much about the cold and snow. It is no worse than Scotland ever was.

Love,  
Draco

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**February 4th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

It will not be practical to meet for breakfast on the 14th. I must appear at the head table as usual or it may invite comments that could be passed onto Death Eater families by their offspring.

This particular date is also one where the teachers must be on high alert. Since the Weasley twins departed from these hallowed halls, the overall mayhem level has dropped considerably. However, during the winter months I examined their ingredients lists, brewing methods, and charms those two hell-raisers are using for their Valentine's Day Romance line.

I daresay we will be listening to students spouting bad love poems, walking about with multicolored hearts appearing over their heads, declaring their undying affection to members of the sex they do not prefer, and doubtlessly a few of the boys will sprout pink feathers on their genitalia..

In other words, it will be business as usual at Hogwarts on Valentine's Day.

Severus

**---------------------------**

**Paired Journal Communication  
**February 5th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Severus,

I'm sorry to be missing a Valentine's Day at Hogwarts, but I look forward to hearing about it from you. The twins are creative geniuses, but I can do without their brand of juvenile humor.

The worst was when they tested their prototype Singing Beans based on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Ron and Harry were the test subjects and it gave them horrible flatulence. The odor changed every time ranging from lilac to sewer gas. Each time they let one rip, it sang. I now have very negative associations with the song "I'm a little teapot, short and stout."

Under the circumstances, I won't see you until April unless someone needs the Cruciatus treatment.

Unfortunately, I'm altogether too good at reading between the lines. Whatever is happening on the weekend of the 12th, please be careful.

I will take care of making the Wolfsbane base. I feel much more confident about it than I did at first and I do have extensive notes on the details of preparation. The external Crucio potion and stock potions for the infirmary are not a problem either. I will probably get the first order of the fertility potions completed. I have been procuring the ingredients over the last few weeks.

Did you know a maca root costs one third less here than what it does in Britain? And red clover blossoms are half the price and vitex angus-castus is much easier to obtain. I tested them for efficacy and they are as good as anything we can get through our suppliers in England.

I suppose I had better get back to work. I've a physics test tomorrow.

Good night, Severus.

Hermione

------------------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: Pomona Sprout, H.M., Filius Flitwick, C.M., Severus Snape, P.M., and Minerva McGonagall, T.M.  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 6th, 1999  
Re: Further Incidents

The recent rash of magically stealing undergarments has hit a new low. The disappearance of all the jockstraps during the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin Quidditch game could have resulted in grave injury to all involved.

The identities of the perpetrators are unknown at this time. It would require more than one person to inscribe the name of the owner on each, along with estimates of individual size, and strap them to the visors of suits of armor throughout the castle.

I expect each of you to hold a House meeting to discuss the necessity of ending this round of pranks. Any assistance you can offer in identifying the culprits will be appreciated.

You have no idea the howlers I have received over this one. There are some irate parents out there.

-----------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 6th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

You do realize that buying the ingredients in the United States and bringing them here without paying the import tariff meets the legal definition of smuggling?

Severus

------------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 6th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Severus,

I never thought of that. Drat. I'll never get the vitex angus-castus in time. I can make a trip to Diagon Alley for the rest.

Hermione

------------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 7th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

Bring the vitex angus-castus and get everything else here. I already have the maca root for you. You may pay me back. Oh, bring extra vitex angus-castus and I will pay for it.

The next time you visit Hogwarts, ask Minerva to resort you. I suspect you have more Slytherin in you than the Hat realized. Perhaps that is one of the reasons I appreciate your company.

Severus.

-----------------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: All Hogwart's Staff  
From: Severus Snape  
Date: February 9th, 1999  
Re: Richard Browning

As a result of the recent incident of the theft of jockstraps, a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team is encountering a certain amount of harassment.

If you hear any of your students referring to Richard Browning as "Little Dickie Browning", please intervene and stop it. Further, if you hear jokes about his "shortcomings", do not laugh.

This young man's self image is taking quite a beating. I had to forbid him from sending around a flyer signed by all the players on the Slytherin Quidditch team attesting that his member is actually above average in size.

If the harassment does not cease, I cannot guarantee he will not take matters into his own hands.

------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m  
From:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m  
Date:2/12/99  
Re:Upcoming events

I have been monitoring the situation in Great Britain. Indications are that some pivotal events will take place in the near future. My analysis still points to things coming to a head this summer.

I have run the Arithmancy on Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. It is very likely both are involved. From what I see, Hermione Granger is heavily involved on the side supporting Dumbledore. Draco Malfoy is riding on the edge and his loyalties are unclear.

You are aware that he is romantically involved with Anita. He's been to dinner several times since last summer and we've talked a great deal about business and commerce as relates to wizarding society in America versus how it works in Britain. While I am not entirely comfortable with using Anita's relationship to get into Draco's head, I have to use whatever means are necessary.

He is very enthusiastic about this new venture of his and purchasing the apartment building. He seems inclined towards real estate, which may be a direct result of how wizards tend to make money in England. Where this interest fits with Voldemort is unclear. I get the impression he is being pulled in different directions.

Roger is monitoring things closely with Malfoy as well. If I get the sense he is endangering Anita in any way, I will arrange for him to meet with an unfortunate accident.

Whatever else I may be, I am a father first. Unfortunately, with his family's social position and wealth, combined with their close ties to Voldemort, it could pitch us into the middle of this situation much sooner than I want. What do you think?

--------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m  
From:Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl .c o m  
Date:2/12/99  
Re:Upcoming Events

As you know, I am supervising Hermione Granger in her independent study of Potions 201. There is no doubt; she is a brilliant and capable student as is reflected in her work during her first semester and what I am seeing now.

She has practical knowledge of potions development and brewing that greatly exceeds what she should have at this stage in her training. Some of her techniques are the same ones I was taught by Arsenius Jigger during the advanced portion of my potions apprenticeship thirty ago. This suggests to me that she may possibly be working with Severus Snape on potions development. He would have learned those same techniques during his apprenticeship.

We know Granger is an active Dumbledore supporter, because of her friendship with Harry Potter, unofficial membership in the Arthur Weasley family, and the murder of her parents. This would give us further evidence that Snape is a Dumbledore supporter, regardless of past affiliation with Voldemort.

I am meeting with Roger tomorrow for lunch. We plan to discuss the situation with Granger and Malfoy and will give you our recommendations.

--------------------------------

**Hogwarts Inter-Office Memorandum**

To: Severus Snape, P.M.  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 12th, 1999  
Re: House points system review

I have examined the quarterly reports of the allocations of points for all Houses and detentions awarded. Please accept my compliments on the diminishing number of points taken away from and detentions awarded to Gryffindors. It does appear that the departure of Harry Potter from these hallowed halls has improved your disposition.

You will find a little something extra in your pay packet next week.

----------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m, Gerhardt Bock: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m  
From:Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date:2/13/99  
Re:Upcoming Events

Gerhardt and I met today and discussed the situation with Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

We agree that we do not have a clear sense of where Draco Malfoy stands on the issue of Voldemort. With the publication of the monograph, I will be taking my Charms 102 class into discussions of scientific research that could lead to the exposure of the wizarding world.

This will be my opportunity to probe his opinions and reactions. We know he comes from an elitist family with strong ties to Voldemort. His father has served time in the British wizarding prison system because of it. Whether or not young Malfoy is willing to take a stand that differs from his family is open to speculation.

You have my sympathies regarding his relationship with Anita. If I were facing the possibility that my daughter was being used by a supremacist to get to me, I'd probably be planning his demise.

Some of my ancestors specialized in contests to see how long they could keep a victim alive while tied to a spit over a campfire. I can get you details if you need them.

As for Granger, I agree with the assessment that she is a link to Dumbledore. It does appear that she has developed a friendship with Malfoy, which offers two possibilities:

First: Malfoy is supposed to spy on her for his master and she is supposed to spy on Malfoy for hers.

Second: Malfoy is supposed to spy on her for his master, but his real sympathies lie with the Dumbledore faction.

Given what appears to be a real friendship, the second possibility is more likely than I would have originally thought.

If we are in agreement, I will use Legilimency on both when the opportunity presents itself. Perhaps I can get an indication of what the truth is in this situation. After I do so, I would like to meet with our strategic planning team. We should make plans to contact Dumbledore.

-----------------------------------

**Ministry Owl Correspondence  
**Encoded and Charmed for Security

Interdepartmental Memorandum  
To:Madame Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic  
From:Alastor Moody, Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
Date:February 14th, 1999  
Re: Possible Death Eater Activity

I have just returned from taking the report from the intelligence committee, which has been compiling reconnaissance reports. A significant number of suspected Death Eaters have absented themselves from their regular Saturday and Sunday activities this weekend.

Typical Death Eater meetings occur at night and last no more than four or five hours. Some of these individuals (see the list below) have been missing since late Friday night. There is no evidence of any Death Eater raids or other overt activities this weekend.

We have thirteen suspected Death Eaters who are unaccounted for between 24 and 36 hours. Among possibilities is a purge among Death Eaters. A minority of our committee proposes a possibility of a training event of some sort. If bodies start turning up in the next day or two, we'll have our answer. Our people are out monitoring the situation and we will keep you informed.

------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: All Hogwarts Staff  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 14th, 1999  
Re: St. Valentine's Day, once again

In keeping with a long tradition of St. Valentines Day pranks, we have seen a resurgence of a few old favorites and some inventive new additions. This year, all Hufflepuff males who have reached puberty sprouted red and gold feathers on their privates.

Many thanks to Filius for his quick detective work, which prevented Thelonius Bick from similarly sabotaging the water into Slytherin. I am certain it was painful for Filius to subtract seventy-five points from his own House, but he did the right thing and should be complimented for it.

It appears Mr. Bick intended to foster inter-House conflict by sabotaging the water of all Houses, except Gryffindor. This would have resulted in a misunderstanding of significant proportions.

Poppy informs me that several students have reported to the infirmary with uncontrolled flatulence, possibly caused by consumption of a fraudulent version of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. The beans themselves are indistinguishable from the genuine article. However, the flatulence caused by these beans changes scent with each passing of wind. It also seems to cause one to hear what sounds like two male voices singing "I'm a little teapot, short and stout."

I must compliment our intrepid Potions Master for making quick work of this particular practical joke. Within minutes of being summoned to the infirmary and examining the beans and two of the victims, Severus determined the ingredients used in the potion-infused sweets. It is a testimony to his skill and vast experience with potions that Severus was able to concoct a remedy within thirty minutes. We are most fortunate to have such a capable potions analyst among us.

Thank you all for your forbearance and fortitude. We have indeed survived another Valentine's Day.

----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 15th, 1999  
Draco to Lucius

Father,

I am fine, father. Please stop worrying. I've been hurt worse during Quidditch matches than I was during the dueling practice.

Mother's skill in repairing injuries is almost as good as a Mediwizard's. My broken wrist is healed and just a little sore. The bruises are gone and the torn cartilage in my knee is knitting up fine. Though, if I keep tearing up that knee in dueling matches, I may end up with a permanent problem there.

I will be writing to Severus separately to thank him for the extra tutoring in Occlumency. I am confident the Dark Lord didn't see anything incriminating in my head. I won't delude myself that he went searching very deep. His trust in you has trickled down to me.

He seemed satisfied with the information I put together for him in my report on American wizarding society and the college. Hopefully, he won't ask to see me again anytime soon.

How is your leg doing? It probably would have been better for it if you did not have to do the training over the weekend.

Love,  
Draco

----------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: Severus Snape, P.M., Pomona Sprout, H.M., and Poppy Pomfrey, M.W.  
Copy: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
From: Minerva McGonagall, T.M.  
Date: February 15th, 1999  
Re: Incident Report

Today, I intervened in an altercation in the hallway outside of the Transfiguration classroom. Apparently Mr. Browning was receiving some harassment from a small group of female students from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

Please see the attached list.

As Severus predicted, Mr. Browning did take matters into his own hands and displayed the object of discussion for their perusal.

I must say, it was a most impressive display and should certainly dispel any disparaging rumors. If anything, he appears to have captured the imagination and admiration of the ladies involved.

I took fifty points from each House involved – including my own, Professor Snape – and have assigned detentions to all involved. I will be turning Mr. Browning over to Argus Filch for his detention. The ladies will serve their detention under my supervision.

After they give my classroom, office, and the hallways outside of each a very thorough cleaning, I will be discussing the value of contraceptive potions and charms with the ladies.

I shall be referring them to you, Poppy, for access to the relevant potions.

Severus, I suggest you do the same with Mr. Browning. I believe he is about to become very popular.

-----------------------------

**Interdepartmental Memorandum**

To:Madame Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic  
From:Alastor Moody, Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
Date:February 15th, 1999  
Re: Follow-up on Death Eater Activity

The missing suspected Death Eaters are all accounted for and have returned to regular activities (see list below).

Given that no raids were reported anywhere in Great Britain, it is the opinion of the intelligence committee that a training session of some sort was held over the weekend. Several of the Death Eaters appear to be sporting recently healed injuries, so it may have been some form of combat training.

We will continue to monitor the situation. Recommend we send out a general notice to all Aurors and approved Ministry officials regarding a possible increase in Death Eater activity.

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
February 15th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I saw Draco at breakfast this morning and he is walking around with a bit of a limp. I didn't ask him how he got it, but whatever he did must have torn his knee up again. He usually whinges when he has any kind of discomfort. He's not saying anything about it at all, which makes me suspicious. It isn't like Draco to be quiet or brooding, but that is exactly how I would describe his behavior.

Something happened to him over the weekend. Do you have any ideas? I'm rather worried about him.

The Wolfsbane base and the cold immersion treatment potions are done and ready for your inspection. The vials and bottles of potions for the infirmary are boxed and locked in the secured cupboard along with the Wolfsbane base and cold immersion treatment potions. I completed the fertility potions and Poppy picked them up to deliver to St. Mungo's.

Thank you for picking up the ingredients for me. I honestly didn't think about smuggling when I got them at such a good price in the United States. I've stored them away and will use them here.

I wonder if I could make the fertility potions and sell them to a hospital here? I'm going to rent one of the apartments in Draco's building and the kitchen is suitable for basic brewing. I could do the work there in my spare time. If it sells for the same price here that it does in England, I could put myself through college on a few weekends of work. It would probably be the most lucrative kitchen witchery in history.

I won't ask what you were doing this weekend. I keep telling myself that. I just want to know that you are all right.

I missed you. Brewing in our lab kept me busy, but it isn't the same when you aren't there.

I miss you.

Hermione

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Correspondence  
**February 16th, 1999  
Severus to Lucius

Lucius,

All things considered, it went well. I appreciate your input regarding the relative strengths and weaknesses of the individuals we trained this weekend. That is a piece of intelligence that shall be carefully guarded and ready to pass on to members of the Order when the time is appropriate.

Draco accorded himself well. He successfully Occluded his mind against the Dark Lord, a task not easily done, especially when one is afraid. In this case, I believe his fear and the Dark Lord's sense of it made him more credible in his report of his activities in the United States.

From remarks The Dark Lord made to me later in private, I believe he is seeing the value of having Draco learn about American wizarding culture. He was disappointed that Draco could not report that Potter still sees the Granger girl, but he did not hold Draco accountable for that. It is just as well that Potter and Granger do not have the relationship the Dark Lord believes. His attention will not be drawn towards Avalon College.

It is also a very good sign that the Dark Lord accepted a cup of water from my hand. He did observe me sip from it first before I offered it to him. I take it as a sign of trust. I believe the Dark Lord's skin was flaking a great deal and he looked pastier than usual. Of course, for a man who is basically gray, it is difficult to assess. I cannot help but wonder if it is a sign of deterioration in his health. If you see any additional signs of weakness, please advise me immediately.

I asked the Dark Lord if I could be of any assistance to him with potions. His response was "not now" which leads me to wonder if he is considering it for later.

I realize the weekend was a real drain on you and Narcissa, physically and emotionally. Get some rest and I will visit on Friday evening and we can review recent events and their significance. Please give my love to Narcissa,

Severus

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
February 16th, 1999

Hermione,

Please do not distress yourself on my behalf. While I cannot tell you what I was doing this weekend, I was not harmed at any point. You have been concerned about the Dark Lord's response to seeing me again. I was summoned over the weekend and was not targeted for discipline. At the moment, I seem to be in his good graces.

I cannot speak to what Draco was doing over the weekend. I have heard that some of the former students of my House met recently for a pick-up game of Quidditch. Perhaps he was involved in that.

I have inspected your work on the Wolfsbane and the Cruciatus potions. They are up to your usual standard of acceptability, which is higher than I ever gave you credit for while you were my student.

I regret there was no opportunity to meet while you were here. When do you anticipate being able to return?

Severus

-------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at awl.c o m, Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl. c o m  
From:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl. c o m  
Date:2/16/99  
Re:Keepers

Thank you both for your input on the situation in Britain and the roles of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

Looking beyond whatever is going to happen in Britain, it sounds like Hermione is someone we want to keep here in the United States. She's good friends with Anita and appears to be the caliber of witch we want to recruit.

Anita says she's magically strong. This is born out by what we know of her high marks at Hogwarts and on her NEWTS. We know she's highly intelligent and has no living relatives back in Britain. Given she's got about four or five years to go in our Potions program; we have time to prepare the right incentives to keep her in the United States.

Opinions?

As for Draco Malfoy, I'm reserving judgment until we know more about his political leanings.

-------------------------------------

**Trans-Atlantic Correspondence**

Poppy Pomfrey, M.W.  
Hospital Wing  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Hogsmeade District  
Scotland

February 16th, 1999

Ms. Hermione Granger  
Sixth Floor  
St. Germaine Hall  
Avalon College  
Chicago, Illinois  
United States

Dear Hermione

Your potions have been delivered to St. Mungo's, which credited your numbered Gringott's account immediately upon delivery and inspection of the product.

Healer Spence confided to me that there is a waiting list of seventy-seven couples with fertility problems who want to have a female child. Your first order of one hundred vials is already essentially spoken for and St. Mungo's would like to order an additional fifty vials of the female potion. They are greatly anticipating the arrival of the male potion in April, for which there is a waiting list of ninety-six couples who want a boy. If you are able to procure sufficient ingredients to do one hundred and fifty vials, St. Mungo's will be pleased to have the additional potion and will pay a one thousand galleon bonus.

I believe they will resell some of the potion on the Continent and make tens of thousands of galleons in profit. There are probably more than a thousand couples on European waiting lists for the maiden brewed fertility potions.

Healer Spence did probe a bit to try and ascertain your identity. He would like to deal with you directly and I suspect recruit you for their staff. If St. Mungo's could obtain the services of a maiden brewer, they could become a supplier of rare potions to medical facilities all over Europe. This would net them a tidy profit and would underwrite the hospital.

I agree with your decision to keep your identity secret. I understand you have no desire to spend the rest of your days as a virgin and it would not surprise me if you found yourself bespelled into an antipathy towards sex for the rest of your life if some of the less scrupulous Ministry employees learned of your identity.

I know you plan to return on April 2nd and brew the male potion on the morning of April 3rd. I will meet you at headquarters at 8 am to conduct the required quarterly pelvic examination so that I may certify your virginity.

Imagine a year or so from now you will be responsible for the birth of one hundred and fifty magical children. I believe the Hogwarts Board of Governors should send you a thank-you note.

Sincerely,  
Poppy Pomfrey

--------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m, Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at awl . c o m  
From:Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/16/99  
Re:Keepers

I am in complete agreement that we should target Hermione Granger for post-graduation retention. From what Roger has said, her magical capabilities as demonstrated in the Charms practicals are far superior to the vast majority of immigrants we get.

However, her parents were both non-magical. Daniel, would you approve an in-depth genealogical analysis from the usual source? If there is reason to believe her magical abilities would breed true, then there is a double reason to keep her in America.

Career-wise, I think if she were offered a solid research and development position with one of our major medicinal potions manufacturers with a budget and creative freedom to match, it would be irresistible. She seems to have a real interest and genuine talent in medical potions and has a solid grasp of chemistry and physics. We could encourage her to go for a PhD in chemistry after graduation. Providing her with a scholarship and means would almost certainly keep her in the United States.

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
February 19th, 1999

Dear Harry,

That is the most amazing news! You arrested Cornelius Fudge for shoplifting? I can't imagine anybody liking cockroach clusters so much that they'd stand in the middle of Honeydukes and help themselves without paying.

I am rolling on the floor laughing.

Do you think he forgot he isn't Minister of Magic anymore? It sounds like the kind of thing he'd do when he was MOM. He'd expect to get things for free and all kinds of special considerations.

I can understand why you did it after all the grief he gave you over his denial that Voldemort was back. I am concerned that he is the kind of person who gets mad and gets even. You'd better watch your back. He may not have the power he had before, but he's got nasty friends. After all the times he allowed Lucius Malfoy buy himself out of Azkaban, do you think Malfoy owes Fudge any favors? We don't need his kind coming after you.

What do Arthur and Dumbledore think about this?

On a different subject, I could use some advice. Do you remember when you had nightmares after Sirius died? Did you do something to help get rid of them or did they just go away on their own?

Sometimes, I have nightmares about my parents. I have a hard time going back to sleep after I have one. Any suggestions?

Oh, and let me know what the Daily Prophet reports about your newest adventure with Fudge. I still have that jar, if Skeeter-bug gives you any trouble.

Hermione

-------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
From: Severus Snape, P.M.  
Date: February 19th, 1999  
Re: Memo dated February 12th, 1999

I deeply appreciate your kind words in the face of my obvious mental deterioration. If I have taken away fewer points from Gryffindor or given them fewer detentions this year, it is probably due to exhaustion from the previous seven years.

Thank you for the little something extra I found in my pay packet. The miniaturized fireworks that emitted from the envelope upon opening were most entertaining.

---------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m, Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at awl . c o m  
From:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m  
Date:2/19/99  
Re:Keeper info

Thank you for forwarding the genealogical report on Hermione Granger. She looks like a promising addition to our American wizarding gene pool.

Both sides of her family have wizarding ancestry, but none in the last two hundred and fifty years. It is likely she received recessive genes from both of her parents, resulting in a magical child. If she marries within American wizarding society, the odds are three out of four of her children will be wizarding stock. I would say she is a very good risk.

Margaret and I discussed Hermione. As you know, she dated Adam for a few months last year. Unfortunately, every analysis I've ever run on my son indicates he's not going to grow up until he's in his thirties.

The analysis I ran on Hermione indicates that she's an adult now and will be ready for a committed relationship in her early twenties. This is a shame because my wife and I would have liked her as a daughter-in-law.

Margaret has spoken to Anita about Hermione. Our daughter has confided in her that Hermione might have an attachment to someone back in England, but in a rather one-sided way. Anita says Draco believes it may be one of the Weasley brothers, the family that has more or less taken her in since her parents' murder by the Death Eaters about a year and a half ago.

In his opinion, it would most likely be the oldest brother, William, who has been the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts for the last year.

Anita reports that Hermione isn't dating anyone here, so we may need to do some matchmaking to diminish the attachment back home. I've put Margaret to work on it and have every confidence that she and her contacts will place the right young man in Hermione's path.

---------------------------------

**Order of the Phoenix Memorandum**

To: Albus  
From: Remus  
Date: February 20th, 1999  
Re: I'm not a babysitter

Yes. I do believe the pair of knickers you found stuck under the cushion of the sofa belongs to Ginny Weasley.

No. I am not going to do anything about it. This is Harry's home. They are both above the age of consent and as long as they don't do it on the sofa while I'm sitting on it, I don't care what they do.

-----------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From: Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/20/99  
Re:An invitation

I'd like to invite you to come over Saturday night; February 27th, for a get together with some friends and young people I'd like you to meet. I know you enjoy the science crowd and I thought you would enjoy meeting some of our guests who work for McKellon Chemicals research and development department and Gresham Unlimited. Both companies have a business relationship with Digital Magic and have Muggle and carefully hidden wizarding divisions.

It will be a blue jeans kind of event and Wilhelmina has promised to make her steak kebabs.

Anita and Draco will be there. And you know you can't possible make connections with potions manufacturers too soon. You'll need a practicum for Fifth Year and an internship for Sixth. Besides, we haven't talked since before Christmas and I do enjoy your company, with or without Adam.

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 20th, 1999  
Harry to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

I thought you'd find that one pretty funny.

Unfortunately, the whole thing got hushed up. Fudge is claiming it was all a big misunderstanding. That lying sack of hippogriff dung says he intended to pay for the cockroach clusters, but they were so good he started nibbling on them before he got in line to pay. He made a big deal about handing over a galleon to the Honeydukes clerk and the charges were dropped. The Prophet doesn't even have one of those gossip type articles about an anonymous celebrity shoplifting scandal.

Sometimes I think I'm just not living right or something. If I'd have picked up a jelly glow worm off the floor that had been stepped on by every Third Year on a Hogsmeade weekend and thrown it in the rubbish bin, I'd probably have been tossed into Azkaban.

The training is going pretty well. Ron and I have a big examination coming up on laws and legal interpretations about search and seizure. It isn't right that we don't have you to help us wade through all the big words and technical stuff. Are you sure you don't want to rethink your career choices?

As for the nightmares, I still have them now and then. I think it just got better over time and isn't because of anything I did.

_Hi, Harry!_

Hello, Hermione. I'm glad you picked up the journal so we can talk.

_Isn't this fun? It's like instant messaging on a computer. Give me a few seconds to read through what you've written already._

Got it.

_Oh, that slimy bastard. We should have known Fudge would manage to worm his way out of trouble. I hope those cockroach clusters gave him indigestion._

His kind always seems to figure out a way to claim that whatever they did was not their fault. I'm surprised he didn't claim he was just testing them to make sure they hadn't gone bad and was doing a public service at the time.

_Urgh! Or he might have claimed Imperio._

I should be used to it by now. Politicians just don't get held accountable because they're so good at talking their way out of trouble. It's why they got elected in the first place. So, what's with the bad dreams? Are they the same kind of dreams you had just after your parents were killed?

_Yes. The dreams are always that I know the Death Eaters are after them and I can't find them to protect them. I guess what upsets me the most is that the dreams are always unfinished. I'm running and running or searching and searching and I can't ever find them._

Mine were always of seeing Sirius fall through that Veil, over and over. I've thought about those dreams a lot. I think I had them that way because Sirius and I had so much unfinished business.

_I wonder if that's why I keep dreaming about never being able to find them? _

Do you still feel guilty about not being able to save them? I still feel guilty that I let myself get tricked into going to the Ministry of Magic and getting all of you hurt and Sirius killed for no good reason.

_Harry, none of us blame you for that. Good grief, Voldemort has had decades to learn how to manipulate people and he was getting to you through your link. He knew exactly which buttons to push. As I recall, you were all of fifteen at the time. _

If I've learned anything about myself from all of this, it's that I have to take responsibility for my actions. I should have learned to Occlude my mind to keep Voldemort out. But, I was too caught up in disliking Snape to give it a real effort. I might as well have just hung out a sign on my head, inviting Voldemort to come on in. It's no wonder Dumbledore didn't tell me much of what was going on at the time. Voldemort could have pulled it right out my head.

_But, you did learn Occlumency._

Yes, but too late to do Sirius any good. It keeps Voldemort from trying to possess me, but can't make up for what I didn't learn when I first had the opportunity. I suppose it was one of the lessons I had to learn. I can't let my dislike or liking of someone color all of my impressions of them. If I'd given Snape even the smallest amount of cooperation, he would have taught me what I needed to know. Now that I'm in the Order and see more about how he operates, I realize that.

_I think both of you were too caught up in your mutual dislike at that point for Professor Snape to be a good teacher for you. Dumbledore should have realized that and taught you himself._

I think Albus thought it would be one of those character building things for Snape and me. It didn't work. I needed to do a lot of growing up before I could see him more objectively.

_What do you think of Professor Snape, now?_

Why are you asking?

_I work with him. He's mentoring me in Potions and has been really great._

Yeah? Well, I think he likes you. He just kind of tolerates me.

_He's not very good at letting go of baggage either. _

Snape and I have some things in common. Maybe we'll do better in the future. We've actually had some decent conversations, like after he got Zabini out of the country.

_Good. I hope the two of you can get along better._

So, what about your dreams?

_After I have one, I have a terrible time going back to sleep. _

Do you have them very often?

_Hmm. Depends on how you define often. Sometimes, I have them a couple times a week. You said that yours decreased over time?_

Yeah, but Sirius has been gone four years now. It's only been a year and a half for you.

_Maybe I just need to be patient. I might be making too much of it._

If your dreams are because of unfinished business with your parents, maybe you need to figure out what that business is and see if there is some way for you to do it?

_I need to give that more thought. I should probably let you go. It's almost midnight in England and you're on daytime duty._

I'm always available if you want to talk. How long till you get to come back?

_The beginning of April. The college shuts down for a week's holiday_.

Maybe we ought to do phone calls now and then.

_That would be great, except they are very expensive_.

What's the point of having a vault full of inherited galleons if I can't spend some of it to stay in touch with one of my two best friends?

_Awww. You're making me tear up._

Are we going to get mushy, now?

_We shouldn't. I'm keeping you out of bed and you need your sleep if you're going to fight for truth, justice, and the tossing of wicked politicians into Azkaban._

In that case - good night, Hermione.

_Good night, Harry._

**----------------------------------**

**Note Left on Remus Lupin's Bedside Table**

Remus,

I seem to be missing a pair of blue satin knickers from the other night when we had the nicest time on the sofa in the parlor. Could you look around for them? They match my blue satin bra and I would hate to lose them.

Dora

-----------------------------

This chapter will be continued in our next installment.

-----------------------------

Author's notes

The inspiration for the Singing Beans and their resultant flatulence belongs to Plaidpooka, who began the notion of Snape farts. Wartcap deserves some credit, too. She incorporated Dementor farts into her wonderful story _Pumblechook_ after we had a bit of discussion of the value of flatulence in the Harry Potter Universe.

Any resemblance of any part of the story to panty raids and other forms of juvenile humor is purely intentional. It was inspired and encouraged by Julia.

It's true. We're not any more mature than anybody else around here, no matter how old we are.

--------------------------------

The teachers have the following professional credentials:

Albus Dumbledore: Master of Alchemy  
Severus Snape: Potions Master  
Minerva McGonagall: Transfiguration Mistress  
Filius Flitwick: Charms Master  
Pomona Sprout: Herbology Mistress  
Poppy Pomfrey: Mediwitch  
Rolanda Hooch: Flying Mistress

--------------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers: Ami Mizuno1, Mugglemomof3, Latinachikita, Rinny 08, Danielle, Slvrnight, Maddie50, Koliber, AnokiNantaras, Mrs. Touchstone, DoodlesDivine, Nativewoman29, Green-eyed-angel, t wrecks, Siren34, Bakaonigirii, Emilia, Severus-Fan, Excessivelyperky (who provides ideas along with reviews), Evilmastermind666, notwritten, Duj, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Jocemum (who helps with medical accuracy, too), Arime Setta, MollysSister, Shirlyn, Wikkidgothbabe, Annie Talbot, Katyes, and Joani-the-unique-being.


	54. Chapter 54

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thanks to Julia for her input, commentary, and Brit-picking.

Now that we have thoroughly explored the concept of what panty raids would be like in a wizarding school, onto more serious issues.

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 23rd, 1999  
Molly to Hermione

Hermione,

I can never thank you enough for dropping everything to come and take care of Fred the way you did. You missed taking a test, didn't you? Will your professor let you make it up? Just in case, Arthur and I are sending Professor Littlehorse one of those Trans-Atlantic letters explaining that you came home to deal with a family emergency. They have to let you make it up.

You let me know if they don't and Arthur and I will get Albus to write them, too. They would certainly have to pay attention to Albus.

Fred is doing fine. He's upstairs right now sleeping. George is back at the shop putting things back together. We are so lucky that neither of them were killed. Remus and Albus say that the Death Eater raid was probably to look for some fancy potion ingredient. George is talking about hiring a couple more people for the shop to provide security. I think it's a good idea.

As terrible as the circumstances are that you lost your parents, Arthur and I count ourselves very, very lucky and happy that you have become a part of our family. I really don't think we could love you more than if you'd been born to us.

You look tired, dear. Please don't overdo the studying to the point where you wear yourself out. And you need to eat more. Don't go sharing that tin of homemade shortbread biscuits with everyone in the dorm so you don't get any for yourself. I'm going to write to that college and tell them to get some decent food in the cafeteria.

Love,  
Molly

--------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 23rd, 1999  
Hermione to Molly

Dear Molly and Arthur,

I'm so glad Fred is all right. Severus and I knew he would be, especially since he responded so well to the treatment. I take it that George's broken leg is fully repaired if he's gone back to work.

Please don't worry about the test. I've spoken to Professor Littlehorse and he will let me take it. I was honest with him and told him about my adopted twin brothers being hurt in a Death Eater raid. He was really sympathetic.

I feel very lucky to have found a second set of wonderful parents and a houseful of siblings to go with it. I love you, too.

Please don't worry about me. I do study too much sometimes and forget to eat. Ron and Ginny will both tell you I did the same thing at Hogwarts when I got really interested in a subject. And I plan to hog the whole tin of shortbread for myself. I have to get to class now.

Love,  
Hermione

--------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 23rd,1999  
Ron to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

I'd say I owe you one for Fred, but I probably would have to add it to a list of about a hundred IOUs. Harry was partnered with Kingsley Shacklebolt for the shift when they got the alert of a Death Eater raid in progress in Diagon Alley. I was working with Elias Talleyrand at the time, but when word came down that it was Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes that was hit, I was ordered to stay put at Auror headquarters.

I swear it was the longest hour of my life waiting to hear what was going on.

Harry says that when they got there, it looked to him like George and Fred walked in on a couple of Death Eaters who were tearing up the back room. He says he thinks they were looking for something – possibly some of the more exotic potions ingredients they keep in the safe. George put together a list of things they had in the safe and has passed it on to Professor Snape to see if he can figure out what they were after. They didn't actually get into the safe, but did a lot of damage to projects the twins had in progress.

You already know how badly they Crucioed Fred. He had got into the back room first and it was his yelling that pulled George in. George stopped and grabbed a handful of jock itch spitballs, pus pockets, and dung bombs and went in throwing. Shacklebolt says the Death Eaters weren't expecting anything like that, which is probably what saved Fred and George from getting killed outright. The Death Eaters were in a big hurry to get the hell out of there between their itching pricks and balls and the giant pus pockets forming in their armpits and groins so they just knocked George out of the way and stomped on him a few times. They apparated out of there pretty fast and with the masks and all, we can't identify who they were.

One good thing, Mad-Eye Moody thinks the twins ought to be recruited to develop new weapons for the Aurors.

I talked to Fred this afternoon and he says you were really good to him and that Snape was even nice. I guess I'm going to have to rethink what I know about Snape and maybe treat him better when I see him. Fred says it was amazing how being cold down to the bone got rid of the pain. He's still chilly, so Mum's got him all bundled up in a couple of her thickest jumpers and a pile of afghans. She's pouring chicken soup down his throat till he's ready to sprout feathers and cluck.

Madame Pomfrey says Fred is going to be fine in a day or two. I'll keep you posted if we find out anything else about the bastards who hurt him and Fred.

Love you,  
Ron

-----------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded for high security, using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl .c o m, Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m  
From:Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at awl . c o m  
Date:2/23/99  
Re:Keepers, continued

Yesterday during an examination, I had the opportunity to Legilimenise Draco Malfoy. It appears he's been given Occlumency training because there were areas of his mind I couldn't go. However, I saw enough memories to see patterns and draw inferences from them. I am willing to speculate the following:

**1) Observation**: Looking at engagement rings in a jewelry store window. **Speculation**: His intentions towards Anita are reasonably honorable. He is not ready for a commitment, but is sincere about his relationship with her.

**2) Observation**: Images of social events and interactions with others I believe were English Purebloods. In the memories, he is projecting an image of himself according to what people want to see. **Observation**: Memories of interactions with Anita, Hermione, and Warren Stevens. He is far more relaxed and is enjoying himself. **Speculation**: He is in conflict regarding his expected role in British Pureblood society and what he wants for himself.

**3) Observation**: Interactions with a wizarding ghost he calls Cindy. She is telling him how she plans to frighten tenants. Unless I'm mistaken, I think Mr. Malfoy has solved the mystery of the true identity of Resurrection Mary. **Observation:** Memories of casting a repulsion charm over the building he has purchased. **Speculation:** Draco is using a ghost and repulsion charms to get the tenants of his apartment building to request to break their leases. An unethical approach, but technically not quite illegal.

**4) Observation**: Looking at other apartment buildings in the area and considering their potential. **Speculation**: He is considering staying here after graduation to pursue a business career, probably in real estate.

I am concerned about the areas of his mind where I couldn't go. I am certain he didn't realize what I was doing, so it wasn't a conscious block. He may be in conflict about his loyalties to Voldemort, but in those hidden areas he may be fulfilling whatever role Voldemort wants. We should continue to monitor him and see how events unfold.

It appears Death Eater activity is picking up again. Hermione Granger's adopted family summoned her back to England yesterday just before my class. She stopped by my office today and explained that Death Eaters attacked her twin brothers who own some sort of novelty shop. One was severely Crucioed and the other had a broken leg and other injuries. Both are expected to recover.

I think the time is fast approaching when a direct contact needs to be made with Albus Dumbledore.

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 23rd, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Severus,

I've heard from both Molly and Ron and it sounds like Fred has made good recovery. If he has any complications, the most likely is that Molly will mother him to death.

I reviewed my notes from yesterday and agree with you that a rapid drop in temperature is probably more effective than the slow change we tried with you. Fred experienced complete relief from pain after about thirteen minutes from the beginning of the immersion.

Overall, the process went smoothly. It felt very natural to work with you in this way, to see the system we've developing working so well. I wish we could have had more time. We haven't been alone for one minute since New Year's Eve.

Ron sent me a journal entry saying the Death Eaters were probably looking for a potion ingredient in the shop and that George gave you a list of what they had. Do you have any idea of what they were looking for?

Professor Littlehorse let me make up the Charms test, so no harm done. I told him about George and Fred being attacked by Death Eaters and he had no problem with my being gone.

The circumstances of seeing you weren't the best, but I am glad we had a chance to spend a little time together.

I'm heading off for the library. Have an uneventful evening.

Hermione

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 23rd, 1999  
Harry to Hermione

Hermione,

I'm going to be in Ireland for the next few days working on a case. I'll let you know what it's all about when I get back.

Harry

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 24th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

I am writing this in between sets of counter clockwise stirs of Bellinger's Asthma Relief Potion.

There is a Hufflepuff in the hospital wing who is experiencing a dramatic increase in the seriousness of her asthma attacks and Poppy is at her wits end.

Forgive me if I am abrupt or brief. Everything went very well with the treatment and we did work well as a team.

The increase in the magical menthols increased the effectiveness of the potions, just as we suspected it would.

Whatever was that you were wearing? I remembered seeing you in it when you took care of me.

Poppy's waiting for the potion. I have to take it to her right away.

-----------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m, Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at a w l . c o m  
From:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at a w l . c o m  
Date:2/25/99  
Re:Re: Party Saturday night

Are you certain the two of you want me tagging along to the party? I feel like such a third wheel and I don't want to drag Warren along just to make it look like I've got a date. Besides, not for one minute is anyone going to think Warren is straight.

----------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/26/99  
Re:Re: Re: Party Saturday night

Of course we want you to come with us. Mom does these get togethers all the time. They're really more networking opportunities than anything else. Think of my mother as the wizarding equivalent of the Chamber of Commerce. She's always trying to help people in the wizarding community connect with each other and build business connections. And you will need to make connections if you want to get one of the really good internships come Sixth Year. Like one of the ones where they pay you to be their slave.

-----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 26th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

I hope the Hufflepuff is doing better. In the Muggle world, incidents of asthma in the general population and in children in particular have increased significantly. The pollution of the air by cars and industry has fostered most of it. There is speculation that modern forms of heating and cooling that require a house be sealed tight to conserve energy is adding to the problem. I presume she been tested for allergies to molds and spores?

The outfit I was wearing is called a catsuit. It is a one-piece costume worn during exercise or practice dancing by professional and amateur dancers. I thought it would work well in the water, while keeping me completely covered once I add socks, latex gloves, and a waterproofing charm. It's practical for moving around in the water, but looks rather silly.

Hermione

---------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
From:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
Date:2/26/99  
Re:Re: Re: Re: Party

Okay, I'll go if you're sure I won't be in the way. It sounds like your parents will have some interesting guests. You're certain it won't look funny if I don't have a date?

----------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From:Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/26/99  
Re:Party date

Why don't you see if one of the Weasleys would come with you and I don't mean Ron. Professor Weasley is a really nice guy and he'd be a hit at the party. Imagine a former Gringott's curse breaker at a Schuler cocktail party. Besides, I'd like to talk to him and there isn't any way I'll get to see him under the circumstances.

----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
February 26th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

I've spent the last week on loan to the Irish Aurors and worked on my first really serious case. An Irish nun who's a witch went missing a little over a week ago. She's been running a homeless shelter in Dublin for the last twenty years. The last time she was seen, she left to do a presentation to a community group about the shelter. She never showed up and hasn't been seen since. We can't find a single clue as to what happened to her.

Because she's been living and working among Muggles, the Irish Aurors asked MLE to send them some Muggleborn or Muggle raised Aurors to help with questioning the general population. I was partnered with Ryan Quinn, a Muggleborn Auror from Galway. He's been an Auror for about thirty years and is really street-wise. I learnt a lot from watching how he operates.

Sister Kathleen Clancy was seventy-seven years old and had been a nun for more than fifty years.

I know. I'm talking about her in the past tense. I think she's probably dead.

According to her family, she'd been glamouring herself for the last twenty-five years to make herself look older so she'd blend in better with Muggles.

At first, we thought maybe she'd implemented a plan to disappear, but it doesn't fit in with what we know about her. She'd been talking to her family about having to leave the Little Sisters of the Poor, because she'd kept her identity the same for too long. Sooner or later, someone was going to figure out that she wasn't aging the way she should. Her plan was to fake her death in a few years and go to a convent in Spain that's hidden in the wizarding world. All the women who live there are nuns who had to leave the Muggle world when they got too old to keep passing for Muggles.

It doesn't fit that she'd just disappear. We wondered for a while if Death Eaters were involved in her disappearance, but they don't usually operate without flaunting the Morsmordre and no body has been found.

Anyway, I got to pass myself off as her great nephew once removed or something like that. Ryan and I questioned people from the homeless shelter. A lot of them are mentally ill or alcoholics. Most were in bad shape and we couldn't get much from them that was useful. The staff who work at the shelter all talked about what a great person Sister Kathleen was and all the good things she did for the poor and homeless. They are really going to miss her.

Moody warned us in training that it's easy to get attached to a victim once you start learning about who they are and what they did. They become a real person to you. After a couple of days, I started to feel like I was her great nephew.

I feel terrible we couldn't find any evidence of what's happened to her. With as long as it's been, she's probably dead. Unless we find a body, we may never know for sure. She's now on a long list of people who are missing.

Anyway, I learned a lot from this investigation. I think my questioning techniques are better after watching Ryan work all these nervous homeless people.

I definitely learned why Aurors are supposed to stay detached and avoid personal involvement with crime victims and their families. It's too easy to get caught up in their heartache. Maybe I'm more prone to be sympathetic because of how my parents died and what I saw you go through when your parents died.

Do me a favor and just stay safe.

Love,  
Harry

--------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
From:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
Date:2/26/99  
Re:Re: Party date

That's an interesting suggestion. You just want to talk Quidditch and dueling with Bill Weasley. Besides, I don't think I'm his type. Not an ounce of Veela blood in me.

------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From:Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/26/99  
Re:Re: Re: Party date

You know, Granger, sometimes you underestimate yourself. By the way, I don't understand our physics assignment. Would you have some time this weekend to get together and go over it?

---------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
February 26th, 1999

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry I didn't see your journal glow in time to talk to you directly. You sound like this case has really got to you. Reading between the lines, I get the feeling you think Sister Kathleen was murdered. On top of it, she sounds like the kind of good person who shouldn't have an enemy in the world.

That sort of thing hits too close to home for both of us. We've both had to deal with people we love dying violently for no good reason. Not that there's ever a good reason for such a thing.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons you will make a good Auror. You can understand what the survivors are going through. You've been victimized enough times yourself to see it from the victim's perspective.

You're also a pretty emotional guy. You empathize with the suffering of others. That will make it more difficult to achieve that objectivity you say you need to have as an Auror. If you have to learn to distance yourself from your feelings to be effective, it won't be easy.

Still, I can't see you turning into the kind of person who just doesn't feel anything or only feels contempt for the people you have to deal with. Mad-Eye may be brilliant at dealing with certain kinds of criminals, but he tends to generalize his responses to anyone he assumes or imagines has ever done anything wrong.

You'd never be like that. You've been on the receiving end too many times and seen the damage it does. All those people who believed you had somehow found a way to put your name in the Goblet of Fire and treated you horridly for it. Then, there were the ones who thought because you can hold a conversation with a snake; it made you the Heir of Slytherin or at the very least some sort of dark wizard.

You'll find the balance between what you need to be to fulfill your role as an Auror and who you are as Harry Potter. That will make you a very good Auror.

Even though the Atlantic Ocean and half a continent separate us at the moment, I feel very protected by you. Just knowing you worry about me a bit makes me feel secure. I know. The best I can explain it is that you have the family you're born into and then there's the family you choose. You and Ron are a big part of the family I choose.

I will be careful and stay safe.

I love you, too.  
Hermione

----------------------------

**A Note Attached to a Loaf of Date Nut Bread  
**February 26th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I wanted to compliment you on the quality of the potions you have been brewing lately for the infirmary. Recently, you have been adding flavorings to some of our staple potions. It has made them so much more palatable than they were before. I have found the younger students are far more cooperative about taking them. You have made my job much easier.

It is very thoughtful of you and I deeply appreciate it. I know you like my homemade date nut bread. Please enjoy it.

Poppy

------------------------------------

**Owled Correspondence  
**February 27th, 1999  
Ron Weasley to Severus Snape  
Sent to Professor Snape via Professor Weasley

Dear Professor Snape,

I want to thank you for everything you did to take care of Fred when he was Crucioed. The longer I'm with the Order and the more I see as an apprentice Auror, the more I realize what a risk you take every time you help one of us who are openly allied with Dumbledore. Even though your role in treating him is a secret, it is still a big risk.

Maybe I haven't always been fair to you. Hermione says you're an enigma. I had to look up what that meant and I think she's right. I don't always understand what you are trying to do or why you do it. Maybe I never will. I will always remember that you have helped my family, even when you didn't have to. I owe you for that and I won't forget.

Ronald Weasley

-----------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum  
**

To: Severus Snape, P.M.  
From: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Date: February 27th, 1999  
Re: My arthritis potion

This morning, I opened a bottle of the arthritis potion you make for me and found the most pleasant surprise. What is usually a bitter concoction tasted like blackberry lemonade. Thank you very much for such a thoughtful gesture.

There will be a little something extra in your next pay packet.

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 27th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

The Hufflepuff is doing better. Poppy has confirmed that mold is the culprit with her allergies, which has triggered an increase in her asthma attacks.

I am corresponding with Dorcas Whittsit, a Potions Mistress in London. She specializes in Potions to treat respiratory problems. She has also observed a dramatic increase in asthma among her customers and has made improvements to some of the standard potions. She has developed three new potions that may be helpful and is sending me samples.

Cat-suit? An interesting name and I cannot discern what it has to do with cats. Perhaps I could ask Minerva. It is a most intriguing costume. Fred Weasley certainly found it interesting.

At the moment, I am absorbed in solving a mystery. I received a note from Poppy thanking me for adding flavorings to some of the potions I brew for the infirmary. I also received a note from Albus praising the blackberry lemonade flavoring in his arthritis remedy. Further inquiry has shown that the following potions have also been flavored: Skele-Gro, Sneazles Preventative Potion, Muscle Knitting Potion, Driscoll's Calmative, Sore Throat Elixir, Headache Remedy, and Anti-Diarrhea Potion.

It is an interesting coincidence that these are the very potions I have allowed you to brew to further your practical education.

I acknowledge that you showed professional discretion by not flavoring potions that would be negatively affected by adding such frivolous ingredients.

You have placed my personal reputation at risk by making potions I am reported to have made PALATABLE.

Account for yourself, young woman.

Severus

--------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . c o m  
From:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
Date:2/28/99  
Re:Networking

I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the party last night. I had a great time. The two Potions Masters from McKellon were absolutely fascinating. The work they are doing on the treatment of dementia in the wizarding population is incredible. If they can find a way to prevent dementia in our population, there are definite applications to the Muggle world as well. It's a shame we have to leave the charmed and magical ingredients out of the medications for the Muggle market.

Tim Garrett and Brenda Delavan have offered me a chance to tour their facility and have lunch to discuss their project. It's a wonderful opportunity and really could lead to an internship in the future.

Networking really is great. I thought it would be so much more difficult talking to people I don't know, but once we got into discussing potions, it was easy. Thank you for inviting me.

--------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . c o m  
From:Brenda Delavan: BrendaDelavan at McKellonwizarding . c o m  
Date:2/28/99  
Re:Hermione Granger

Thanks again for inviting me over Saturday night. You did a marvelous job of hosting, as always. Honestly, Wilhelmina could fix grilled cheese and it would be gourmet fare.

By the way, did you notice Miranda leaving with Gary? What's with that?

And thank you for connecting me up with Hermione Granger. She's a bright one, really understood the work I'm doing with the dementia treatment potion. We're going to do lunch sometime in the next few weeks and I'll give her a tour. Prime candidate for an internship. I really thought she was further along in the Potions program than Second Year.

When are we going to do our spa day? With all the extra hours I've been putting in, I'm more than ready for a massage and a facial. How about towards the middle of March?

----------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m  
From:Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . c o m  
Date:2/28/99  
Re:Hermione

Good evening, Stud Muffin. How are things in San Francisco?

Here I am looking out the window at six inches of snow on top of a half inch of sleet, drinking some of Wilhelmina's hot chocolate with Kahlua and munching Wheat Thins.

You, on the other hand, are probably dining at a fabulous seafood restaurant on the company ticket.

This would be a perfect night to snuggle up under the covers. Given your absence, I will have to settle for Architectural Digest for companionship.

Sigh.

I received an e-mail from Hermione. She thanked me for inviting her to the party Saturday night. She said it was a wonderful networking opportunity and waxed eloquent on the joys of research and development and McKellon's work on an anti-dementia potion.

She actually networked for science contacts. She spent most of the evening talking potions with Tim and Brenda when I hoped she would latch onto Stuart Gelsback or Jim Pritchard. Either of them would be a good match for her, especially since your analysis indicates she's likely to prefer men who are older than she is.

Anyway, Brenda e-mailed that she's going to meet up with Hermione for lunch and give her a tour at McKellon. Sounded like she's ready to offer her an internship. Hermione really is a geek, our kind of witch.

We're just going to have to keep inviting her to different events and hope she catches on at some point or the right single male geek realizes what a find she is.

If it wasn't for Samantha throwing you and me together, we'd have never figured it out. You'd still be calculating algorithms in that basement apartment and I'd still be a successful architect with the leading wizarding architectural firm in the United States.

Snicker.

I love you, miss you, and will see you tomorrow night.

Snugglebunny.

-------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 28th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Severus,

Erm, sorry?

Hermione

------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 28th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

Sorry?

Is that all you can say for yourself when you have undone twenty years of effort to establish myself as the youngest staff curmudgeon in the history of Hogwarts? A man's reputation is at stake here.

You do understand you should not have done this without my knowledge. It is not in keeping with my status as a Death Eater to show concern about whether or not students like the flavor of a potion.

Fortunately, I can claim that after years of complaints from Madame Pomfrey, Albus ordered me to do it.

By the way, Minerva claims she has never heard of a cat-suit.

Severus

-------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence**

To:Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at awl . c o m  
From:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m  
Date:3/1/99  
Re:See you tonight

Good morning, Snugglebunny.

Actually, I never got to the fabulous restaurant here in San Francisco, but I did have room service shrimp alfredo with Bill Baldacci while we went over the marketing plan.

I would have preferred to snuggle with you and the Wheat Thins.

I'll catch you up on the news tonight.

Hold open the weekend of March 27th. I'm trying to arrange for us to take a quick trip to Scotland.

Stud Muffin

----------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**February 28th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

I apologize for flavoring the potions without your permission. You are right. I shouldn't have done it without discussing it with you first. It was unprofessional.

We're really being honest, aren't we?

I was a bit distracted and upset when I was brewing. I was worried about what you were doing over the weekend. I kept thinking about the weekend my parents were killed and I was afraid there might be something like that going on and you might have been required to be a part of it.

I didn't think to bring my Seventh Year Potions textbook with me, so I used the directions from my Potions 201 text, which called for flavoring them.

I should have thought it through better than what I did. I wasn't thinking about protecting your cover at the time.

I am sorry.

For whatever it is worth, unless Fred is Crucioed, he won't be seeing me in the catsuit again. For all that it keeps everything covered up; it is rather clingy and revealing in that way.

I hope I looked better in mine than Albus did in his.

Hermione

---------------------------------------

**E-mail Correspondence  
**Encoded E-mail communication using Digital Magic developed algorithms

To:Daniel Schuler: DigitalMage at awl . c o m, Gerhardt Boch: Potionsmaster4 at awl . c o m  
From:Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at awl . c o m  
Date:3/1/99  
Re:H.G.

I had the opportunity to do a bit of subtle Legilimency on Hermione Granger this afternoon.

In the two minutes or so I was able to wander about her mind, I saw entire lectures replayed, time in the library, a conversation with Anita and Draco about arithmantic applications to charm development, extra reading on neurology, snuggling up with an enormous ginger cat, and what appeared to be a private session with Severus Snape where he was showing her how to prepare the Wolfsbane potion.

The most vivid memory was the one with Snape. I would say he is a very strong influence with her, but then he was teaching her to make a potion we don't plan to teach our students until Fifth Year. She may have been enthralled with the opportunity or there may be a personal friendship there.

We have speculated that Hermione Granger is a bookworm. What I saw confirms that.

If I find another opportunity to do a little exploring, I will. I didn't find anything about the Order or Harry Potter. Perhaps the next time Margaret has one of her soirees; I will come and look for a chance. Away from the school setting, Granger's mind might go in different directions.

-------------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
March 1st, 1999

Dear Hermione,

You may continue to flavor the potions you have already flavored. You will not alter any others without my express permission or I shall be most irate.

I am unaccustomed to the thought of someone being so concerned about my well-being that it could distract them from a task before them. I find the thought most pleasing, but not acceptable as an excuse from an apprentice. An aspiring Potions Master must be capable of producing exacting potions even under great personal stress.

The dark chocolate flavoring you added to my headache potion is very good. I have not seen this flavoring before in any of the potions supply shops in Diagon Alley. Send me the particulars so I may order some on an experimental basis.

A point of clarification on the issue of cat-suits. The sight of Albus Dumbledore wearing one is the stuff of which very bad dreams are made.

The sight of you in a cat-suit leaves an entirely different impression.

Severus

----------------------------

**Post-It Note Communication  
**Draco to Cindy  
March 2nd, 1999

Cindy,  
You are a marvel. I just got  
the request to break the lease  
on apartment 201. Don't forget the  
leftover pizza we left on the counter.  
Draco

---------------------------------------

**Trans-Atlantic Communication  
**March 3rd, 1999

Daniel Schuler  
1389 Chicago Avenue  
Oak Park, Illinois  
United States

Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster's Office  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Hogsmeade District  
Scotland

Dear Headmaster Dumbledore

We have not met before, but you may have heard of me through mutual friends. I am currently serving on the Board of Directors of Avalon College and am the Chief Executive Officer and primary shareholder in Digital Magic Corporation.

My wife, who is a rather accomplished architect, has heard of the wonders of Hogwarts castle and would very much like an opportunity to tour your building. Would it be possible for this to take place on March 27th, 1999? We will be in Scotland at that time for a brief vacation.

I would very much appreciate an opportunity to discuss the merits of Avalon College and the value of our educational programs with you and the most significant members of your organization. We share a desire to see the best possible future for the wizarding world.

Sincerely  
Daniel Schuler

-----------------------------------------

**Trans-Atlantic Communication  
**March 3rd, 1999

Ms. Hermione Granger  
6th Floor  
St. Germaine Hall  
Avalon College  
Chicago, Illinois  
United States

Dear Hermione,

Just wanted to say thank you for your help last month. Am feeling 100 better. Enjoy!

Fred

**Package Insert**

Welcome to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Thirty Minute Fantasy

Guaranteed to give you 30 minutes of pure or puerile enjoyment based on your personal preferences.

Directions:  
Take potion with water, tea, or juice.  
Get into a comfortable position  
Enjoy!

Warnings:  
Do not use while operating a broom or other equipment  
Do not apparate while using  
Do not mix with alcohol  
Do not use with mind or mood altering potions  
Do not use while working  
Do not use around open flame  
Do not put box on your head and dance in the streets

Warning: Use of Thirty Minute Fantasy potion can interfere with contraceptive potions and charms. Always recast or test for effectiveness after each fantasy experience.

------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**Lucius to Severus  
March 3rd, 1999

Severus,

I met with my cell last night to develop a list of hexes and defensive spells they want to work on at the next training session. I'll add the list to the end of this message.

Something is going on with Rutherford. He seemed to be gloating a lot, implying that he and the Dark Lord have a special relationship. I am concerned about what this could mean. Do you think the Dark Lord has taken to buggering Rutherford? Or has Rutherford been given a special mission?

Lucius

-----------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**Hermione to Severus  
March 4th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I promise to comply with your preferences and instructions regarding any potions you ask me to brew. No deviations or bursts of creativity without clearing them with you first.

The dark chocolate flavoring is from Godiva Chocolatiers Wizarding Division. I received the equivalent of an "O" for using it as a substitute ingredient in a potion for my independent study class. I'll be happy to bring more for you to try, along with the specifications.

I'm pleased my catsuit did not cause you to have unpleasant dreams.

Hermione

----------------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**Severus to Lucius  
March 4th, 1999

Lucius,

It seems unlikely the Dark Lord would entrust Rutherford with anything sensitive or requiring a brain. Rutherford is muscle, inherited wealth, and little else. On those occasions when the Dark Lord has presented the Death Eaters with a Muggle male to use, Rutherford has not lined up for a turn. Another thing to monitor.

Thank you for the list of hexes. I will check my references on some of them. I am unfamiliar with the one to cause a brain aneurysm. I believe we should plan to do the training on March 13th.

Severus

----------------------------------

**Hogwarts Inter-Office Memorandum**

To: Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
From: Severus Snape, P.M.  
Date: March 5th, 1999  
Re: Thank you

Thank you for the recipe for sherbet lemons I found in my pay packet. The next time I have the urge to make sweets, I shall certainly put this recipe to use.

---------------------------------

**Paired Journal Communication  
**Lucius to Severus  
March 5th, 1999

Severus,

I have confirmed with Pettigrew that we will provide the second session of dueling training on March 13th. He said the Dark Lord will not attend.

I found the countercurse for the hex that causes a brain aneurysm. I will have the book for you when we meet on Sunday.

Lucius

-----------------------------------------

**Owl Mail Communication  
**Mary Ellen Berwick to Hermione Granger  
Forwarded by Molly Weasley  
March 9th, 1999

Dear Hermione

Shirley had six babies! I'm so excited. I'm an aunt!

Shirley got loose right around Valentine's Day. Do you remember Colin Creevy's rat, Gerald? We let them play together and I think they got a little too romantic. She must have gone looking for him since she turned up in the Seventh Year boy's room.

I didn't even realize she was going to be a mother until the day before yesterday when I noticed her tummy had moving bumps. For a minute, I was scared someone cursed her. I took her to Professor Hagrid and he looked her over and told me she was in the family way.

Yesterday, she had the babies. They are all so tiny and pink. They don't have any hair and their eyes aren't open. Shirley is being a good mum to her little ones. They just seem to feed and sleep. I haven't tried to touch any of them. I don't want to upset Shirley.

If it weren't for Crookshanks, I'd let you have one of the babies when they get old enough. Right now, there are three Gryffindors who say they want one. I told Professor McGonagall and she said any that are left, she'll be happy to take.

You don't think she'd eat them? She meant just to use them for her Transfiguration classes, didn't she?

You've known her longer than I have. What do you think?

Love,  
Mary Ellen

-----------------------

**Trans-Atlantic Communication  
**March 9th, 1999

Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Headmaster's Office  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Hogsmeade District  
Scotland

Mr. Daniel Schuler  
1389 Chicago Avenue  
Oak Park, Illinois  
United States

Dear Mr. Schuler,

I would be most pleased to have you and your wife visit Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on March 27th, 1999. Would 1 pm be a suitable time?

As an architect, I am confident your wife will find our castle most fascinating. One of our teachers, Filius Fitwick, has made a special study of the architecture and features of the castle and will be providing Mrs. Schuler with her tour.

Perhaps while your wife tours the castle, you could meet with me and key members of our staff? We would like to learn more about Avalon College and explore the possibility of an on-going relationship. Our students are of the highest caliber produced through the British wizarding educational system and we are always seeking opportunities to further their learning opportunities.

Sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore, M.A.  
Headmaster

---------------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
From:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
Date:3/14/99  
Re:Stop by my room

Stop by my room later, I've got something you have to try. One of the Weasley twins sent me a box of potions they invented that are good for a thirty minute daydream. Thirty minute incredible fantasy is more like it. I tried it last night and is it ever hot.

------------------------------------------

**Owl Communication  
**Hermione Granger to Mary Ellen Berwick  
Forwarded by Molly Weasley  
March 15th, 1999

Dear Mary Ellen,

I am absolutely certain Professor McGonagall would never eat any of Shirley's babies. I've heard that she catches mice when she's in her cat form, but that she doesn't eat them. I think she leaves them outside of Professor Dumbledore's office as a gift.

If she's offered to take any that don't find a home, she'll take good care of them. They'll get changed into teacups and such, but she always makes sure to change them back.

Don't give any to Professor Snape.

I'm sorry I can't take any of the babies. I probably would have kept Shirley myself, except I could never trust Crookshanks around her.

I'll be back to England during Avalon College's spring break. That's the week of April 4th. Perhaps we'll be able to get together. I'd love to see Shirley's babies.

Love,  
Hermione

-----------------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
From:Sidney Abramowitz: CanDoWizard at awl . c o m  
Date: 3/15/99  
Re:Remodeling proposal

Dear Mr. Malfoy

Per your request, I took a look at the bathrooms in apartments 303, 301, and 200. With some manipulation of the size, I can do what you want regarding improvements.

I project we can magically enlarge each of those bathrooms by 68 percent without interfering with the physical layout of the apartments. This would allow for installation of whirlpool baths and sinks with cabinets in each.

I also took a look at the toilets in each of those bathrooms and they look fine. There might be a few where we need to replace the internal mechanisms, but we won't find those until we get into each apartment.

Because we are talking about remodeling thirty bathrooms, I am willing to give you a generous discount on the overall price. Please see the attached bid sheet for the cost breakdowns.

My crew could start work on this in the middle of June and I estimate being done by the first week in July.

Thank you for the opportunity to bid on this project. Please feel free to e-mail me or call if you have any questions about the proposal.

Sincerely  
Sidney Abramowitz  
The Can Do Wizard

-------------------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m, Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
From:Warren Stevens: NYluvrboy at awl . c o m  
Date:3/15/99  
Re:Multidisciplinary project

We are at a critical point in our work on the hair conditioner. We have tried increasing the potency of the charms, the aloe, the balsam, and using charmed rosemary. If we get the cuticle to lie flat, Hermione's hair is wavy but oily. If we reduce the balsam, Hermione's hair is curly, but not frizzy and we get softness and shine. I think we should stick with the last formulation and go for soft and shiny curl.

What do you think?

---------------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Warren Stevens: NYluvrboy at awl . c o m, Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy12 at awl . c o m  
From: Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
Date: 3/15/99  
Re: Multidisciplinary project

I definitely prefer the no-frizzy soft shine formulation. The curly part really isn't bad if it's not frizzy. I do not like the heavy balsam formulation – it really left my hair oily.

I vote we declare the project finished and prepare it for submission. It is due May 3rd.

---------------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
Date:3/16/99  
Re:30 wonderful minutes

What are the chances we could get the Weasley twins to modify the potion so it goes for sixty minutes? I'd really like to meet those two.

------------------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Warren Stevens: NYluvrboy at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy23 at awl . c o m, Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m  
From:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
Date:3/16/99  
Re:The hair project

We should test it one more time. Lydia Westphal has frizzy hair and is willing to try our shampoo and conditioner to see what it does. Let's give her a run to give more evidence to the effectiveness of the formulation.

-------------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Lucius

March 16th, 1999

Lucius,

I do not feel like I am any closer to determining what the Dark Lord is planning. Pettigrew gave no indication of why we have been asked to do all of this dueling training. There must be a major raid being planned. If you are not involved, then the most likely team leaders would be Avery, Dolohov, or one of the Lestranges. Has Narcissa had any contact from Bellatrix that could be helpful?

Severus

---------------------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To:Warren Stevens: NYluvrboy at awl . c o m, Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy23 at awl . c o m  
From:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
Date:3/17/99  
Re:Hair project

We got it! Lydia tried it and has no more frizz! Hermione's hair shows a lot of gold highlights mixed in with the brown. You should see it with Lydia's chestnut hair. It is really shiny with red highlights. I'm going to try it on my hair, just to see if it has the side-effect of bringing out highlights.

---------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
March 17th, 1999

Harry,

Ginny's birthday is coming up next month. She'd really like some fancy knickers, which I'm planning to get her. The store that sells them also sells very special lingerie. Would you like me to get some for her on your behalf? I'll bring them with me when I come home on April 2nd.

It'll be so good to come home. I'm finding I don't sleep well here in the city. Unless I charm the room totally sound-proof, which doesn't feel right either, the noise from the street keeps me awake. I think I'm homesick. I miss having the chance to just sit and talk with you.

Has your scar hurt you lately? Other than sending the Death Eaters after Fred and George's potion ingredients, Voldemort doesn't seem to be very active, which scares me.

Have you learned anything more about the missing nun? I haven't seen anything in The Daily Prophet about Sister Kathleen.

When I come home in April, I'll be there for a week for spring break. Would you do me a favor on one of your days off and come with me out to the cemetery? I haven't been there since Christmas and I'd like to clean things up a bit. I know it isn't a good idea for me to go by myself.

Term ends for us on June 4th, so I'll be home then. I don't think I'll do summer school here. I could take a chemistry class at the Uni over the summer and have the credits transfer to Avalon. I'd really like to be with all of you over the summer.

Hermione

-----------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
March 17th, 1999

Dear Severus

The dark chocolate essence is on its way to Minerva with a request to pass it onto you. I enclosed a copy of a paper written by one of the Mediwizardry professors about use of the essence in treating patients for Dementor exposure. Healer Mobutu has found that the essence mixed in water or milk is highly effective in treating Dementor induced depression.

It might be worth passing some onto Order members in case of exposure. It can be kept in a small vial and is highly concentrated, offering a bit more convenience than walking about with a chunk of chocolate in the pocket of one's robes, especially on a warm day.

I am getting the impression that you rather liked how I looked in the catsuit. It isn't the sort of thing that is worn in public by decent witches. When Poppy first saw me in it when we were treating you for Cruciatus, she was shocked.

In the Muggle world, an outfit like that might be worn with a skirt. I wonder if I could get away with it in the wizarding world without being thought a trollop?

Hmmm. I'm asking Professor Snape for fashion advice.

Angels and ministers of grace, defend us.

Hermione

-----------------------------------

**E-Mail Correspondence**

To:Hermione Granger: HJGranger at awl . c o m, Draco Malfoy: Dragonboy23 at awl . c o m, Warren Stevens: NYluvrboy at awl . c o m  
From:Anita Schuler: Charmed23 at awl . c o m  
Date:3/20/99  
Re:Highlights

I tried our shampoo and conditioner on my hair and it does enhance the highlights. Draco looked at it and says they are more gold, like Hermione's. Why don't you two guys try it and see if it does anything for you. My hair is really soft and I suspect with the additional oil it puts in my hair, I'd have to wash it more often than I do now. We may be onto something here.

--------------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memorandum**

To: Severus  
From: Minerva  
Date: March 20th, 1999  
Re: Tonight

I am available this evening for another attempt at role-playing. You may as well bring along the remedy. The last three times, I have got the hiccups from laughing so hard when you look at me with that seductive expression. If we keep practicing, we shall get through of one of these enough to actually kiss.

---------------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
March 20th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

If you asked Professor Snape for fashion advice, he would sneer, take House points and send you back to Gryffindor, preferably in tears.

If you ask Severus, he will indeed be pleased to give you an opinion when he sees you wearing the cat-suit with a skirt.

Severus

----------------------------

Author's Notes

Thanks to all my reviewers: Keket Amunet, JustYourAverageReviewer, Hodemi, Me613, Arime Setta, Fan-rei, Caseyff, Excessivelyperky, Onatah1, AnokiNantaras, Danielle, Belelaith, Angel Tears 16, Rinny08, Adele Rose, Duj, Miroku75, Amsev, Kirien, Bakaonigirii, Evilmastermind666, Pyro313, Ami Mizuno1, Koliber, Wynnleaf, Darque Hart, Doodles Divine, Hebi R., Severus-Fan, Teri, Latinachikita, Edith Regis, Jocemum, Green-eyed-angel, Maddie50, Lyndie578, Nativewoman29, Lipasnape, SlvrNight, MollysSister, AMistressMalfoy, KKDuke, and Mugglemomof3.


	55. Chapter 55

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for her many valuable suggestions and for making the language and culture in this story more legitimately British. She also suggested ways to make the colorful language portion of this chapter more, well, more colorful!

-------------------------------

Hermione  
March 21st, 1999

The hallways and rooms of my home look so empty. As soon as I step into a room, the furniture disappears, next the pictures and paintings on the walls, the curtains vanish and the carpeting is gone. Each room, one at a time, vanishing until the house is gone. They're gone. I can't find them and my home keeps disappearing.

_It's all my fault._

I am desperate to find them and I don't know where to look anymore.

It's a dream, wake up, wake up.

I open my eyes and look at the red and green light shining in the window from the neon sign on the building across the street.

Mother of Mercy, not again. This is the second time tonight I've had to wake myself out of a nightmare. I look at the clock and it's almost 3 am. I'll get up and go to the bathroom. Maybe I can fall back asleep. I don't need to be up until 6 am.

I move to get up and Crookshanks wakes up and looks at me from the foot of the daybed.

Yeah, you think I'm nuts, too.

After the bathroom, I lay back down. Crookshanks has gone back to sleep at the end of the bed. I'm glad one of us can.

Nothing is going right. I can't sleep again because of the nightmares. I've had a nightmare every night for the last week, except one. Sometimes I have them twice a night. I wake myself up and have a terrible time falling back to sleep.

The last two weeks have been hell. I'm so tired by the end of the day, I can't keep focused enough to get my studying done.

I get up early and study, but I never get enough real sleep. I can't take Dreamless Sleep more than once a week – too much too often and you can get addicted. I tried a Muggle over-the-counter sleep aid, in spite of Molly and Severus' warnings about Muggle remedies after that mess with the NyQuil, but all it did was help me to fall asleep. It didn't keep me asleep.

I'm afraid to go to sleep. I'm afraid of the dreams.

It's my fault. I didn't go to the cemetery while I was in England in February. I knew I should have, but Harry and Ron had to work. Remus was away on a mission. Arthur was on duty at the Ministry and Molly was busy helping a friend with a new baby.

I can't even consider asking Severus. He'd never understand how I could let something like this get to me.

I didn't want to break my promise to Remus, but I can't help it. If no one's available, I have to go by myself. Ever since Mum and Dad were killed, nothing else has helped get the dreams under control.

I wish I could figure out something else I could do.

There are counseling services provided by the college. They refer students for practice counseling with one of the senior students in the Mediwizardry program who is specializing in mental health.

I don't want to go to another student. Voldemort ordered my parents killed because they had a witch for a daughter. It seems just a little complicated for a student only a few years ahead of me.

A Muggle therapist is out of the question, but I maybe I could find someone outside of the college. I have to find a list of wizarding therapists. I wonder if I could ask Anita's mother? She seems to know everybody in the Chicago wizarding community and maybe she wouldn't think less of me….

I have to do something and I don't want to do anything.

What is therapy going to do for me? How can it fix _me_? I feel guilty that Mum and Dad died because of me. It is absolutely true; they died because I'm a witch. If I'd been a Muggle, they'd still be alive.

There's no therapy, counseling, or sleeping potion in the world that can change the fact that it's my fault my parents are dead.

I just keep going in circles.

I might as well get up and study. I won't be going back to sleep now.

Maybe, I should go to the cemetery tomorrow. I know I promised I wouldn't, but it helped the other times when it got really bad. I haven't been back since the Christmas holiday.

I can't keep on like this. I'll just fall apart and I won't be of any use to anyone.

I'll do it. I'll go to the cemetery tomorrow. That's worked before and I can get my head clear and decide what to do. If I don't get a decent night's sleep tomorrow, I'll take some Dreamless Sleep. I haven't taken any since last week and I have to get some sleep.

I'll get up and fix myself some tea and grab a cereal bar. I seem to be living on tea and cereal bars these days. I just don't have much appetite.

Before that, I'll check the journals.

The glowing Celtic knot on the cover of the black journal shows there's a message from Severus. In his other entries, he's written that he misses me, enjoys my company, and thinks I look attractive in the catsuit. He's come so close to saying he cares about me and that it's not just friendship between us. Maybe this time he will.

I open the journal and read.

--------------------

_March 21st, 1999_

_Dear Hermione,_

_A third Crucio victim received the cold immersion treatment tonight. Kingsley Shacklebolt was brought in by Potter after an encounter with a man robbing a woman off Knockturn Alley. The miscreant who Crucioed Shacklebolt escaped and Potter brought him to headquarters instead of to St. Mungo's. _

_Since Lupin and Potter were available to assist, I decided not to summon you. You have already missed classes twice because of treating Fred Weasley and me. You may express your displeasure at my decision next time you see me, but if you are noticeably absent when a suspected Order member is Crucioed, someone may put two and two together. _

_I believe I can say we now have the treatment protocol down to a routine. A fast drop in temperature is more effective than a slow one. The external treatment potion with the five percent increase in the magical menthols is more effective than the original formulation. Shacklebolt experienced complete relief of pain after no more than ten minutes in the water. _

_He received two rounds of Crucio, which is consistent with the amount Fred Weasley experienced. I believe we have maximized the amount of essential oil of that we can put into the water without risking skin reactions. We do not want the pain and cold messages to compete with an additional message of burning or itchy skin. _

_Both Lupin and Potter were helpful in assisting me with providing the treatment. Lupin has learned a great deal from observing our experiments. Potter followed instructions and behaved in an unobjectionable manner. _

_Based on our experience so far, it takes two people to provide the external treatment. One person is needed in the water with the victim while the other manages water temperature and monitors vital signs. If we provide training to additional members of the Order, we can keep a supply of the two potions at Hogwarts, the Burrow, and headquarters. Trained Order members can administer the treatment. We should discuss this at the Order meeting on April 3rd when you return_

_I have a piece of information relevant to your theory that something happens to the neural receptors or neurotransmitters while experiencing the Cruciatus curse that diminishes the ability to use magic. Shacklebolt remembered your request to attempt to cast while under the influence of Crucio. He was unable to do so, but is uncertain if it was because of the pain. This merits further research. _

_Would a marsh flitterer be a suitable test subject? Marsh flitterers lay their eggs in the bark of trees and bowtruckles are a natural enemy. Flitterers shoot off magical sparkles as an automatic response when in close proximity to a bowtruckle as a way to distract the creatures and to avoid becoming a meal. If a flitterer were exposed to Crucio and then a caged bowtruckle, the presence or absence of sparkles might tell us more about the effect of Crucio. _

_I shall inquire of Professor Hagrid if there is a possibility of catching some marsh flitterers for our use. I know he has a colony of bowtruckles spotted in the Forbidden Forest._

_Research of this sort is slow and painstaking. It may be years before we can verify a theory that the Cruciatus curse affects the neural network in a manner preventing the use of magic. Isolating the aspect of Crucio that accomplishes this could take a considerable time. _

_I am not suggesting we should stop, by any means. But, we may not find a way to use this as a weapon against the Dark Lord and need to look at other alternatives as well. I have a few new ideas and will discuss them with you when you return. _

_You will also be interested to learn that Athena Widdoes has broken Neville Longbottom's record as the First Year with the most melted cauldrons. _

_Longbottom achieved eight by the end of his First Year. Miss Widdoes has achieved nine and there are three months to go. _

_However, by this time Mr. Longbottom had already destroyed a table beneath a cauldron and Miss Widdoes has not. I shall reserve my opinion on Miss Widdoes' superior lack of potion's talent until the end of the year._

_Severus_

-------------------

Severus provided Crucio treatment without me. I guess they don't need me for that either.

I examine the letter again and I see information about implementing the Crucio treatment, the theory that something about Crucio affects the neurotransmitters and reduces ability to use magic, a possible experiment with marsh flitterers, and Severus has ideas for other possible weapons development.

At least he included his anecdote about Miss Widdoes. He probably doesn't share that with everybody.

There's not a thing in here about how much he misses me, look forward to seeing you here in April, sorry I didn't get to see you in February, we didn't get any time alone when we treated Fred, how would you like a romantic dinner in the lab?

Am deluding myself by thinking that I'm anything other than the Gryffindor know-it-all who helps out with cauldron cleaning at headquarters?

He didn't get angry when I kissed him. He suggested I looked attractive in the catsuit. He wants to talk to me when we can meet alone.

What if all he wants is to let me down gently?

Just the thought of it makes my world start to crash all around me.

There's nothing definitive in his behavior or things he has written that should make me think there's anything other than a platonic relationship between us. Maybe I'm just hearing what I want to hear and reading meanings into his actions that aren't really there.

It can't be that. Severus Snape wouldn't imply that I am interesting to look at in a catsuit if he didn't mean it. He wouldn't manipulate me like that. He wouldn't.

I rest my head on my hands. I am depressed.

It's just that I'm so tired. I wouldn't be so down if I weren't tired. If I could just sleep more than four hours a night, I'd be all right. I might even feel more like eating.

I wonder if Severus has ever had a problem with nightmares after his parents' murder and suicide.

Could I ask him?

I pick up my pen and turn to the next blank page.

I could write it down. I could tell him. I almost told Harry how bad it was in the journal. I could tell Severus. It would feel so good to tell him the truth.

He might know what to do about the nightmares. Maybe there's a potion less potent than Dreamless Sleep, something non-addictive that I don't know about.

He didn't seem to mind talking about being an introvert. We have talked about personal things before. He didn't get angry when I kissed him. Maybe he wouldn't think I'm weak.

It would just about kill me if he thought I was weak. _You silly little girl._ He called me that before.

I drop the pen.

I don't have to do this now. I can think about it. I'll go to the cemetery tomorrow and that will help. I'll take Dreamless Sleep one night this week if I don't sleep well. I'll make myself eat and try to get back into a regular schedule. I'll decide in a few days. If I'm not doing better by this weekend, I'll talk to Mrs. Schuler and see if she can recommend a therapist. I'll do something then.

I close the journal and take out my quantum physics textbook.

I won't think about it, now. I can think about it later.

------------------------------------------

"Dr. Masaru Emoto has been doing some fascinating work demonstrating the Third Principle of Manifestation through freezing water crystals," says Professor Littlehorse. "What is truly remarkable is that he is a Muggle physician. Without the use of magic in any of his procedures, he has discovered the effects of words on water.

Professor Littlehorse stands at the front of the classroom and clicks the mouse of his notebook computer, which is hooked up to a projector. He moves to the side of the screen, getting out of the picture projected on the white surface.

He's tall and moves so gracefully, reminiscent of another tall man in swirling black robes. However, Professor Littlehorse wears a denim work shirt and jeans with a pair of well-worn western boots. He wears his long gray-streaked black hair pulled back into a plait that reaches the middle of his back.

There are very real cultural differences between the two wizards.

A photo of a frozen water crystal is on the screen. The six sides look like they were elaborately etched in crystal by a brilliantly skilled artisan. Underneath the crystal appears the words _thank you_.

"This is an example of one of Dr. Emoto's first experiments," says the Professor. "Emoto poured distilled water into a bottle, wrote the words _thank you_ on a piece of paper and taped it onto the bottle. After a few hours, he poured some of the water into Petri dishes and froze them. Photographs were taken of the ice crystals."

"We all know that no two snowflakes or ice crystals will ever be perfectly identical, but these crystals were all very similar in appearance. So, Dr. Emoto tried other words, such as _love_ and _gratitude_."

Professor Littlehorse clicks again and a new ice crystal appears. This one is even more intricate than the last.

"This is the kind of crystal that appeared to the word _love_. You can see that it is different in appearance from _thank you_. Again, it is perfectly formed and exquisite in detail."

The Professor clicks again. This time an image of malformed swirls of ice appears on the screen with the words _you fool_ beneath it.

"Emoto discovered that when you tape hostile words to the bottle of distilled water, the frozen water crystals are malformed and fragmented."

Another click and I see an eerie image of dark oddly shaped crystals appearing with the words _I will kill you_.

"Further experimentation showed that he could change the language used and still end up with very similar looking crystals." Professor Littlehorse clicks to show six pictures in a row. Each photo shows a similar looking ice crystal with the words _thank you_ beneath it in English, Chinese, German, Korean, French, and Italian.

"He found the same effect when he used the word _wisdom_ in Japanese, German, and English," says the Professor as he clicks through three more photos of crystals. "You can see that these three crystals all look very similar to each other, but different from the crystals for _thank you_ and _love_."

Professor Littlehorse steps away from the image on the screen and sits on the edge of the desk.

"Emoto repeated this experiment using children to repeat the words to the water. He had Buddhist prayers said over the water. In all cases, when positive words were used, words with positive _intent_, the crystals were well-formed and similarly shaped depending on the word used."

"When there was negative intent, the crystals were malformed or indistinct. When tap water was used with all of the added chemicals and pollutants, the results were malformed crystals, no matter what words were used. Good results were obtained when he used spring water. The best results were with distilled water, which is the purest form of water with no minerals or other contaminants."

He pauses and looks around the classroom. "This is probably one of the most important scientific discoveries made by a Muggle in generations. Why?"

Draco raises his hand.

"Draco?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"It means Muggles have discovered something the wizarding world already knows. The intent of the person who handles the water or who projects an emotion onto it effects the physical composition of the water. What he hasn't proven is that incorporating intent into the water affects the person who drinks it."

"That is correct," says Littlehorse. "Who else?"

Anita is called on next.

"It also means Muggles are on the verge of discovering that water has memory. Not only can intent affect the physical composition of water, but water remembers the intent until someone comes along and changes it again by projecting other intentions. Practitioners of homeopathy already theorize that adding a healing agent to water affects the physical composition of the water to the degree that even when diluted to minute levels, the healing agent can work because the water remembers to work that way."

Anita continues. "It also indicates that intent is the most important factor, not the language used. In western wizarding culture, we rely on Latin for incantations, but in the Far East the ancient dialects of eastern languages are used, Native Americans use their own dialects and so forth."

"Very good, Anita," says Littlehorse. "What about the mechanics of how this happens?"

I raise my hand and the Professor calls on me.

"Water is one of the least complex molecules in the universe, consisting of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom. It is fundamental to all forms of corporeal life, as we know it to exist. The primary molecule in all living things on this planet is water. It implies that water may be the medium through which the exchange of energy and matter happens between the Zero Point Field and living creatures."

This is interesting and fun. I launch into speculation.

"This means that water could be the easiest substance to channel the communication necessary for manifestation to occur. It would explain why potions work. Every potion uses water as a base, whether it is pure distilled water or the water naturally contained in blood, juice of a fruit, or sap from a plant."

"For example, a wizard and a Muggle could work side-by-side preparing a potion. They cut, chop, grind, and simmer in exactly the same way using the same ingredients, but only the wizard gets Pepper-Up potion out of it. The Muggle gets a stew of herbs."

"The wizard has the ability to use his intent to manipulate the Zero Point Field to infuse that intent into the water using incantations, arithmancy, crystals, or whatever. This manipulates the molecules of the other ingredients into the form needed to make the potion effective."

"We call the ability to manipulate matter and energy through our intent _magic_."

"Very good, Hermione." Professor Littlehorse looks quite pleased. Several of the students look very confused.

"This is why I encourage all of you to take quantum physics. Wizards have known the concepts contained within the Third Principle of Manifestation for generations, but we never looked at the fundamental mechanics of how this occurs. Muggle science is figuring it out through experiments like Dr. Emoto's and through research on subatomic particles through quantum physics."

"Emoto has figured out that intent and emotion can affect water. Several physicists have theorized that consciousness resides in the Zero Point Field. As wizarding scientists, my associates and I have postulated that magic is the ability to manifest by will through the Zero Point Field." Littlehorse looks around the room and then focuses on me.

"Hermione, what will happen when Muggles put the pieces together and figure out a means to manifest?"

"Everyone will be able to be a wizard." Seems pretty obvious to me.

"Exactly," agrees Littlehorse.

The room is silent and then an explosion of discussion begins.

--------------------------------

"Absofuckinglutely incredible," says Draco, before taking a bite of his taco.

"No fucking kidding," says Anita, staring at her Philly cheese steak sandwich.

"We, as a culture, are seriously fucked," says Warren around a mouthful of turkey on whole wheat.

"Get fucking real," I reply, stabbing a piece of green pepper in my chef's salad.

The other three laugh at me, because I rarely curse.

"Hermione," says Warren, with a hint of a whinge in his voice, "Imagine every person in the world is a wizard. It would be chaos."

"It's already chaos. The only difference is that Muggles will probably take some sort of potion to be able to function as wizards and wizards will be able to be wizards without it."

"But so many," says Anita in wonder.

"I can tell none of you are Muggleborn," I reply. I won't deny a certain sense of superiority for once. My experience makes this possibility less frightening to me than it is to my friends. They've been immersed in wizarding society their whole lives. I continue.

"There would certainly be changes in wizarding society if Muggles could develop wizarding skills through artificial means. I don't think it would be as bad as you think."

"For one thing," I add, "Natural wizards would still have an advantage because we wouldn't be dependent on a potion for our abilities and we're likely to be a lot more powerful than an artificial wizard. Secondly, we wouldn't have to hide our existence anymore. Third, we can reasonably assume a potion won't make a Muggle nearly as powerful or versatile as a genetic wizard. Fourth, I can guarantee a wizarding potion will be expensive and tightly controlled as to who gets it, for at least one generation. Only the reasonably well-to-do and the government will have access to it at first."

"Now that I think of it, that is more frightening than the possibility of everyone on the planet having it since Muggle government isn't any more competent than wizarding government."

"It could destroy wizarding culture," says Draco.

"History has shown consistently that when a stronger, more powerful culture encounters a weaker culture, the weaker culture will be absorbed into the more powerful one," I explain. "The weaker one will influence the stronger and it will change, too. As long as no one indulges in notions of genocide, it generally will work out after a couple of generations."

"You think wizarding culture would be absorbed into the Muggle mainstream?" asks Anita.

"It will depend on which turns out to be the more powerful. In terms of numbers and technology, Muggles are the most powerful right now. If the change happened today, isolated wizarding societies like those in Britain would lose. There are too few of us and hardly any understand technology. I don't even want to think about what a war between the wizarding world and the Muggle world would be like."

"The closest we've come to that," says Anita, putting down her sandwich, "Was World War II when Grindelwald tried to take control of European Muggle society through his alliances with Mussolini and Hitler. When Hitler's obsession with magic and the supernatural started to become public knowledge, it almost revealed the wizarding world. Rumor has it that Grindelwald put him under a Fidelius charm to keep him from revealing all he'd learned about us. It still ended up that thousands of wizards were killed in the war as civilian casualties. Some of the people who work for my father left Europe after losing family during the war. I think Professor Boch came to America that way, too."

"Not all wizards look at World War II as something that was only Grindelwald's fault," interrupts Warren. "My grandparents lived through those times and they've said that the Muggle war would have broken out anyway, even with Grindelwald meddling in Muggle affairs."

"I agree," says Anita. "There's plenty of evidence that World War II would have happened even if the wizarding world didn't have a war going on at the same time. The war revealed just how vulnerable the wizarding world is in a modern Muggle war. That's one of the reasons Avalon College exists, so we can merge the best of both worlds"

"There are too many European wizards who are hostile towards Muggle culture to make any merger a smooth one," I explain. "We might have magic, but Muggles have numbers and a whole lifestyle that parts of our society don't understand. After living in the United States for almost a year, I've seen how wizarding society has already taken on a lot of Muggle technology and science. I suspect the merging of the two societies would go more easily."

Warren shakes his head. "It may go easier in the USA, but what about places like Britain and France where there are segments of society that completely reject Muggle technology? Is Lord Voldemort doing what he's doing now in anticipation of preventing a merger between British wizarding and Muggle societies?"

I look at Draco, who is carefully silent and shoveling in his Spanish rice and refried beans in order to avoid answering. I consider my words very carefully.

"Lord Voldemort seems to believe very strongly in the superiority of wizarding culture over Muggle culture to the point where he perceives Muggles as a lesser life form. Therefore, Muggleborns and mixed bloods are inferior to those of pure blood, meaning at least five generations of wizard-only stock."

"However," I continue, "I don't believe that Voldemort is conducting his terrorist war for the primary purpose of preserving the most conservative aspects of wizard society. I think it comes down to a personal need for power and control and a sociopathic lack of conscience as to how he goes about getting it."

"What do you think about Voldemort, Draco?" asks Anita.

Oh, bloody hell. This is the one question that no one should have asked him.

Draco looks uncomfortable, but he answers.

"I think Lord Voldemort has a lot of followers who believe he is trying to preserve the best of wizarding culture. He seems to demand complete loyalty from those followers and does not tolerate differences of opinion. It has turned into a war to settle the differences. Right now, I much prefer to be here in the United States than in Britain."

Anita reaches over and puts her hand over his.

"I'm very glad you're here and out of it," she says softly.

"Absolutely," says Warren. "I'm glad both of you are here. Saturday nights wouldn't be nearly as much fun. How are things going with getting the tenants out of your apartment building? How's that for a smooth change of topic?"

"Very smooth, Warren," says Draco wryly. "Not a soul noticed. Things are coming along very well. Cindy is doing an excellent job of making the tenants nervous. I've had seven renters ask to break their leases early, which gives me ten empty apartments by the end of April and hopefully more to come. The third floor will be empty, so I can have a contractor come in and start renovations. Why don't you come with us Saturday night and I'll show you around? You can meet Cindy."

"She sounds like a real character from the way you describe her," said Warren. "Can I bring Elliott with me?"

"That would be fine," says Draco. "Cindy is always looking for more dance partners, though you have to use a warming charm to get within a few feet of her. Watch out if she asks you to do the Charleston. It's pretty athletic and it's one thing for her to do it since she doesn't have to breathe, but for us corporeals it's something else entirely."

Anita checks her watch. "I hate to break this up, but we should be getting to class."

"Shall we meet up again at dinner?" asks Warren. "They're serving roast beef."

There are nods all around and the four of us split up for classes.

------------------------------

I place the pewter cauldron on the fire ring and pour in two liters of distilled water. All of the other ingredients are prepared and ready to add in order. The first hour of lab time was spent in chopping, grinding, dicing, and measuring. The rest of the afternoon will be spent in brewing. There are three other students in the lab doing independent studies. I'm the only Second Year student. The others are Third and Fourth years. Professor Boch is at the one of the lab tables working with one of the other students.

This project is rather fun and will take about two weeks to complete. According to the lesson plan, I have to prepare a series of six potions where each one calls for a specific ingredient that is not available. I have to identify suitable substitute ingredients and brew each of the potions and then analyze them for effectiveness.

The point of the lesson is that a potions expert needs to be able to work around shortages or the complete absence of ingredients when they are not available on the market. I've already worked out the substitutions for each of the potions and only need to do the brewing. There will be some down time while things simmer, so I've got the latest issue of Ars Alchemica to read.

The first three ingredients are added to the lightly boiling water simultaneously and I set an ash rod to stir for 763 counter clockwise rotations.

I think my lack of sleep is catching up with me. I can't seem to stop yawning. I wish I could go get something with caffeine and sugar in it to wake me up, but food and drinks aren't allowed in the lab. Once I get all the ingredients into the cauldron, there's a twenty-minute simmer. I'll take a bathroom break and get myself something from the vending machine in the hallway.

The ash rod has stopped stirring. It's time to add the next ingredient and one smoky quartz crystal. I set the rod to stir again, this time clockwise for five minutes.

I go back to the article and my vision blurs after a few minutes of reading. I can't keep focused on the reading and I keep yawning.

Maybe I'll sleep tonight and I won't need to go to the cemetery. I did better today with eating. I had cereal and an apple for breakfast and that salad for lunch. Tonight I'll make myself eat whatever slop they're serving in the cafeteria.

After dinner, I'll finish my paper on international laws regarding potions import and export. I'll fit in some play time with Crooks and maybe paint my toenails. Then I'll get to bed, sleep all night, and be like a normal person tomorrow. All I really need is to get myself back into a normal routine and I'll be fine.

I'll be fine. In fact, I should start preparing the ingredients for the next potion.

I look at the list I've prepared for the second potion. I'll start on that after I add the next two ingredients.

The stirrer stops, I add the next two ingredients and set the stirring charm for ten minutes.

Darn. Where's my aconite? I know there's a big jar of it in the storage room. More yawning. I get up to go and get it and stumble a bit as I bump into Professor Boch.

"Sorry, sir. I lost my balance."

"It's fine, Hermione. No harm done." Professor Boch looks at me curiously. "You look rather worn out. Burning the candle at both ends?"

"Probably, sir. So much to learn and not enough time," I smile. I like Professor Boch. He's smart, a good teacher, and very friendly. Not at all stuffy or unapproachable like some teachers I know.

"Don't overdo it. That's the fast road to burnout and you're much too young for that. I suppose Draco Malfoy has you working on the apartment building he bought?" asks Boch.

"Just Saturday nights and we're really not working on it. He's hired a wizarding contractor to do the renovations. We just go there to see how things are coming along."

"Still, you might want to slow down a little." Professor Boch takes a lab stool and signals me to sit down next to him.

"Tell me about your substitutions here." He points to my potion.

We go over the six potions and my ideas for substitutions. He is satisfied with what I've done and tells me to only brew potions four and six. He says none of the other students ever suggested using kappa blood for number four or trying quinatine and boorscop root for number six. Arithmantically the substitutions should work. He's interested in seeing how they turn out. Good. This will save me a good week of work and I can go onto something more interesting.

"Hermione," says Professor Boch. "I understand you are friends with Harry Potter."

I guess that had to catch up with me sooner or later.

"Yes. We've been good friends since our First Year at Hogwarts."

"He's rather in the thick of things over there, isn't he? Probably associated with other people who are in the thick of things," remarks Professor Boch.

"It does seem likely," I answer carefully.

"There are some of us on the faculty who want very much to have the business in Great Britain come to a positive conclusion. If there are ways we can discretely help, you'd find some friends here."

"That's good to know, sir," I reply. I cannot speak for the Order.

"Please pass that onto those who need to know it. I will trust your judgment on that, Hermione," says Boch. He walks away, not asking me to commit myself any further.

This could be very, very good for the Order. I'll have to write Severus tonight.

------------------------------

I can see the Dark Mark floating above my home.

Oh no, it can't be! Mum and Dad are home. I have to get home and I'm running. I have to save them. If I can get there, I can save them.

_It's all my fault._

I'm running as fast as I can and the faster I run, the further away the house is. My side hurts, my feet hurt, I can't catch my breath and I am running and running and running….

My head jerks up and I have a crick in my neck.

I'm awake. Thank Merlin, I'm awake.

I just have to catch my breath. I look at the clock and it's almost midnight.

Damn.

I was just going to rest my eyes for a moment and I must have fallen asleep. My paper isn't finished and I planned to get it done tonight. Oh Merlin, I've left a puddle of drool on my book.

I pick up my wand and clean it up.

I'll get up and walk around. I'll go to the bathroom and splash water on my face.

I come back and sit down in front of the computer with a cup of strong tea in my hand. I guess I was just deluding myself all day when I thought I'd sleep tonight. I'm not going back to sleep until I finish this paper. I pull out my notes from the library and get back to work.

The clock says 2:30 am. My paper is done and ready to turn in on Friday.

I might as well get dressed and get my things together for the cemetery. I could be there by 3:30 am. That would be 9:30 am in England.

I've had three hours of sleep tonight. I had maybe four hours last night. If I go to the cemetery, I might not have any nightmares tonight and then I can sleep. I can make it through the day, I've done it before. I'll be sure to eat again and keep trying to get back into a normal routine. I can do this.

Damn. I didn't write to Severus last night. I need to do that before I go. I take the journal out the drawer and open it. No new messages.

_----------------------_

_March 21st, 1999_

_Dear Severus,_

_You would have enjoyed Professor Littlehorse's Charms class today. He gave a lecture on research being done by a Muggle physician that lends scientific support to the Third Principle of Manifestation. _

_It was fascinating and pointed out the real possibility that one day, Muggle scientists will figure out how to manifest using artificial means. It is too long to get into here, so I'll send you a copy of my notes and some photographs you'll find interesting. There was quite an uproar in class and the discussion got very lively. You really would have enjoyed that part._

_Today at lunch, Anita asked Draco what he thought of the Dark Lord. He handled it very carefully, saying the Dark Lord has supporters who believe very strongly in his cause and that he was just glad to be away from Britain right now. If it had been appropriate for me to do so, I would have complimented him on how deftly he handled the question. _

_I was in the lab this afternoon working on an independent study. Professor Boch was providing the supervision in the lab and stopped to talk to me for a while about the project. He also asked me if I was a friend of Harry Potter's. I told him I was. Professor Boch asked me to pass on an offer of help to those associated with Harry. _

_He said there were faculty members at Avalon who want to see the business in England resolved in a positive way and that they would help discretely if asked. I took this to mean that there are faculty members who are willing to be a resource for technical assistance in weapons development. This could be an enormous help in our work, if all of you in the inner circle think they can be trusted._

_How is Kingsley Shacklebolt doing? I'm glad to hear the treatment went well and sorry to hear he needed it. _

_I'm not upset that I wasn't summoned. You are right. If I disappear whenever someone is Crucioed, someone might make the association. That is also true for you. Training other Order members to implement the treatment is a good idea. Perhaps even Dobby could be trained to assist._

_It might do Neville Longbottom's self-esteem a world of good to learn that someone else melted down more cauldrons than he did._

_I've just finished a paper on international laws regarding potions import and export, so I'm going to try and get some sleep. I'm not sleeping well and find myself up in the middle of the night working and getting snatches of sleep here and there. Perhaps when I get back to England next month for spring break, I'll get my sleeping patterns straightened out. _

_Anyway, please be careful. Let me know what you think about Professor Boch's offer._

_Hermione_

---------------------------------

Author's notes

Dr. Masuru Emoto is a real person. In 1999, his research was only available in the original Japanese. I presume this would pose no problem for a wizarding college to access. A search for his name can take you to his website. His books have since been translated into English and other languages. I highly recommend _The Hidden Messages in Water_.

The discussion about the Grindelwald War is my own speculation about how World War II might have been impacted by the war going on in the wizarding world. We don't know much about Grindelwald from canon, other than he was ultimately killed by Albus Dumbledore.

Complicated grief is a genuine psychological condition where the individual experiences a prolonged sense of mourning, well-beyond what is typical for most people. It is most commonly experienced when the loss is one where there is unfinished business. Because the other person has died, it cannot be resolved.

Complicated grief often manifests itself in disturbed sleep and eating disorders. Sooner or later, these disturbances impact on school or work, as well as personal life. The person may withdraw from friendships and relationships and sink into a state of depression. The person often does not want others to realize how poorly they are coping with their grief.

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I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to review this story. Whether the note is short or long, praise or constructive criticism, all are appreciated. I will confess to being amazed every time I get a note that says _Looking for Magic_ has captured the reader's imagination, has made them laugh or cry, and that the next chapter needs to be posted soon. You truly do feed the author.

Those of you who have thanked Julia for her work have my appreciation. You have no idea how much better this story is for her input. There are other writers in this genre who have offered feedback, suggestions, and inspired a chapter or two. If you haven't read their work already, you need to go and read Jocemum, Excessively Perky, Ozratbag2, Droxy, and Lady Rhian.

To all the reviewers of chapter 53 that I haven't reached, apologies. This is my busy season with doing presentations about ghosts and ghost hunting at colleges all over the area. After Halloween, those will be done and I can catch up.

Thanks to all my reviewers who have given this story over 1000 reviews: Abby, Andi-Scribbles, Whiteoaks, Cecily, Excessivelyperky, Not-so-chicken-little, Jade2099, Soul chaser, caseyff, stormsight, Onatah1, Latinachikita, McWillow, Duj, Danielle, Bakaonigirii, MiaRose156, Arime Setta, Hodemi, Lipasnape, Notwritten, Adele Rose, Severusandremusslash, Severus-Fan, Amsev, Arturia, Amarantine, Joani-the-unique-being, Starbridge, LettyBIRD, SlytherinTwinCC, Silenthavens, Jocemum, Inspire, Hebi R, Rinny08, Evilmastermind666, Millenia2, ohhdarkstonedone11, radingsoul4u, fan-rei, Ami Mizuno1, Koliber, Maddie50, KarenDetroit, XChocolateChipX, SlvrNight, Lyndie578, MollysSister, DarqueHart, Kellyn, Mnokat, t wrecks, Velvet74, Lily121, AMistressMalfoy, and Skyblueheaven.

Happy Halloween. May all your unseen visitors be friendly ones.

Hypnobarb


	56. Chapter 56

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

As ever, thank you to Julia for her input. Many of you have recognized her contribution and she really deserves your comments.

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Severus  
March 22nd, 1999

By necessity, I am in my full intimidation mode.

"Mr. Greenshire, if you add the shredded shrivelfig instead of the shredded shastafig as is called for in the instructions on the blackboard, you will cause your potion to emit a poisonous gas which will kill everyone in this room. I suggest you pull your hand back _slowly_."

His hand is starting to shake as he realizes the seriousness of his error. I seize the boy's wrist and place my other hand beneath the measuring spoon to capture any bits of shredded shrivelfig that might fall off into the potion. I carefully guide his hand back to prevent the accident.

"Th, th, thank you, you, sir," stammers the shaking boy.

The blue-eyed, blonde-haired Third Year Gryffindor is dumber than a box of rocks. Ewan Greenshire has slumped down onto his chair, almost as white as Nearly Headless Nick.

"Put your head between your knees, Greenshire, and breathe slowly. You will do no one any good if you pass out. And twenty-five points from Gryffindor for nearly killing your classmates."

I survey the room. The rest of the students are attending to their own potions, cowed by the near miss. A few of my Slytherins are indulging in sly smiles at the expense of the Gryffindors.

I return to my desk on the platform at the front of the room. I can feel the rune stone in my pocket begin to vibrate.

You have finally answered our question, Hermione. We were correct in concluding you were visiting the cemetery alone, even though it is patently unsafe for you to do so. Why? What is this doing for you?

I look at the clock. It will be 4 pm before classes are over and I can leave. It is nearly 10 am now, so is almost 4 in the morning in Chicago. That would explain why no one here realized what she is doing. She has been going on days when she is not scheduled to visit here, when we all thought she was in Chicago.

If Draco had not noticed her lack of sleep, she might have continued endangering herself for months before I recognized the pattern. At least she is safely locked up in the cellar where she will have plenty of time to contemplate her fate. I must floo Remus as soon as this class is over and let him know I have received the signal.

An hour later, I am standing before the fireplace in my rooms. I toss powder into it. The green flames shoot up and I recite the password.

"Remus, are you there?" I wait a few moments. "Come on, Lupin. I do not have all day."

Dobby's face appears in the flames.

"Professor Snape, sir, is Dobby answering," he twitters. "Master Remus not home now, but Miss Hermione is down in the cellar. She is very, very angry, Professor sir. Dobby not go down there like Master Remus say, but Dobby hears Miss Hermione."

"What is she saying, Dobby?"

"Bad language, sir. She says everybody busybodies, should just leave her alone, mind their own business. There was big clang and Dobby think Miss Hermione throw a cauldron."

"I am confident Miss Hermione will calm down. Just leave her alone for now and when she quiets down, make sure she has something to eat. Tell her you are not allowed to talk to her and someone will be coming to talk to her later. Do not tell her who."

"Dobby does as Professor Snape needs. Dobby will see Professor later when he lets Miss Hermione out?"

"Yes, you will see me later and I will let her out. Just look after her in the meantime."

-------------------------------

It is almost half past four by the time I reach headquarters. Dobby is waiting for me in the kitchen.

"How is she doing, Dobby?"

"Miss Hermione been quiet all afternoon, Professor sir. She ate lunch and she is studying the whole afternoon except when she fall asleep for a while. I peeked to see if Miss Hermione all right. Still angry, Dobby is thinking." The elf looks worried.

"I will handle Miss Hermione, Dobby. You have done nothing wrong," I reassure him.

I lower the wards on the cellar door and proceed down the stairs. Hermione is sitting at the lab table, writing in a notebook with a textbook in front of her. I recognize the wreath of weathered silk flowers on the table as a portkey from her parents' graves.

She heard me come in, but she is not looking up in an effort to ignore me.

That is certainly not going to work. I pull over one of the lab stools and sit down next to her.

"Good afternoon, Hermione." I am quite nonchalant.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," answers Hermione, pointedly not looking at me as she attends to the notes she is writing.

Ah. Back to Professor Snape, are we?

"It seems you visited your parents' graves this morning."

"It seems you do not understand the terms _kidnapping_ and _unlawful restraint_, Professor," she retorts, continuing to write.

"I understand them quite well. As a Death Eater, I find them irrelevant."

Hermione drops her pen, slams the notebook closed, looks up at me and glares.

"So you felt it was perfectly alright to teach me a lesson by turning a wreath on my father's grave into a portkey and locking me up in the cellar?" Her eyes flash with anger.

"That was far kinder than what would have happened if Avery, McNair, or either of the Lestranges had thought to do it. If they had, you would have been raped by now; several times over I would think. You would have been beaten bloody, probably sodomized by Rudolphus Lestrange – he is really fond of that, you know – and your naked bloody self would be prostrated before the Dark Lord, who would decide whether or not he felt like tainting himself with a mudblood today.

Tomorrow morning, your nude and mutilated body would be deposited somewhere in the Forbidden Forest with the intent of allowing Rubeus Hagrid to find it at some future time. You would be quite dead, Hermione. You would have wished for death several times before it finally arrived."

"So this scenario allows you to be cruel?" she demands, a look of hurt in her expressive eyes.

I can see she is fighting to hold back tears. There are dark circles under her eyes and she looks exhausted, even fragile. Her clothes are loose on her frame and I believe she has lost weight since the last time I saw her when we treated Fred Weasley for Crucio.

For a moment, I am tempted to hold back. But, whatever is wrong with her (and I have my suspicions) will not be helped by holding back. I have to confront her.

"No, it is our friendship that allows me to be cruel." I am stern and allow some anger to show in my voice. "It does not seem that anything else is getting through to you Hermione." I slap my open hand onto the table, making her jump.

"You promised Remus you would not return to the cemetery _alone. _I suspected you were not keeping your promise, so I set the wreaths as portkeys, which would bring you here and lock you in the cellar, if you touched one of them while you were alone. I received a signal that the portkey had been activated. It was my hope the portkey would never be activated because that would mean you were keeping your promise to Remus for your own _safety_."

Hermione stands and turns away from me, her arms wrapped around her body as she refuses to look at me. Her voice is soft, barely audible.

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

Hermione does not answer. She is obviously upset, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her head drops and I suspect she does not want me to see her cry. I do not wish to cause her more emotional distress, but I cannot allow her to avoid facing me and what is troubling her.

"I can't explain it," Hermione whispers, "I just can't stay away. I can't sleep if I stay away too long."

Good, if she will be honest, I can deal with this.

"Then come with me. Get your things and I will take you."

Hermione turns and looks at me, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

"It isn't safe for you to take me. What if someone is watching and they see us together?"

"It would be neither logical nor an efficient use of anyone's time to wait at the cemetery for you to show up. They would do what I did and set wards to let them know someone was there or a portkey to bring you to them. It does not appear anyone else has tried this, _yet_. It should be safe on this one occasion."

Hermione gathers her studying materials and stows them in her backpack. She pulls on her jacket to leave.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you have to work this out, Hermione. You cannot keep endangering yourself and it does not look like you are coping."

We proceed to the bushes in the backyard and apparate to the cemetery, into the copse of trees a few dozen yards away from the graves. The air is chilly, but the ground is dry and the grass is still brown from winter. Hermione walks down the path I recognize and I am at her side.

We reach the graves and Hermione takes off her backpack and sets it on the ground. She stands with her arms crossed, looking off into the distance. She is withdrawing again.

I walk around the head stones, removing the portkey charms.

"What do you usually do when you come here?"

"I clean the headstones, check the grass, clean up the wreaths or leave new flowers," she answers, still not looking at me.

"Go ahead and do what you usually do."

Hermione does not answer. She kneels beside her mother's grave and takes a water bottle out of her backpack. She sprays and wipes down the stones in a loving gesture and then takes the remaining wreath, which is looking weathered, shrinks it and puts it in a plastic bag and stows it in her backpack. She removes two new ones, enlarges them and puts them in place. She kneels on the chilly ground, running her fingers through the browned blades of grass.

"What happens next, Hermione?"

"I talk to them," she answers reluctantly.

"What do you talk to them about?"

"What I've been doing, college, news, whatever comes to mind."

"Do they answer?"

"Not exactly."

"Explain, Hermione," I insist.

"I can't."

"You can. You do not want to." I crouch beside her and she stares down at my boots.

"Why should I? So you can think I'm barking mad?" Hermione moves to get up. I reach out and grasp her wrist, faster than she can move.

"You cannot keep running away from this. You are tearing yourself apart. I will not allow you to keep running away."

I shift, so I am kneeling beside her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Look at me, Hermione."

"Why? So you can climb inside my head and find what you want without me saying anything?"

"No," I answer gently. "I would not use Legilimency without your permission. I want you to look at me, because you cannot look me in the eye and lie. You might be able to do that with Remus, the Weasleys, or your two friends, but you cannot do it with me."

"Stop it." Hermione is angry. "Just stop it. You haven't the right to keep pushing me like this." She tries pulling away from me and I clasp her wrist tightly.

"You are pretending, Hermione. You are pretending that by taking care of two graves you are somehow taking care of your parents. You are so convinced you failed them and you are responsible for their deaths that you are holding onto them by doing this." I reach out and take her chin in my hand, forcing her to face me. "Look at me, Hermione. I believe you talk to them. How do you know they answer?"

"It gets better for a while. I don't have the nightmares as often or as bad and then I can sleep for more than three or four hours a night. I'm not running away, I'm trying to get rid of the _nightmares_," Hermione shouts at me. She is angry, but her eyes are pleading. She truly wants me to understand.

"Is that what triggers coming here?"

Hermione curls into herself and her voice is barely above a whisper.

"I have the same dreams over and over. I'm in our house and I'm walking or running from one room to the next searching for them. In one version, they've moved and forgot to tell me where they went. In the other, they are just ahead of me as I'm going through the house. They're just beyond where I can see them, just ahead of me. If I could go a little faster or figure out what room they'll be in next, I could find them. I could talk to them and explain and tell them I'm sorry."

"I failed them. I'm so sorry. _It's all my fault_." Hermione is doubled over and I release her wrist. She is weeping, curling up tight, her arms wrapped around herself.

I have never been comfortable being around a woman when she cries. I used to run away if I heard my mother weeping. But this is different and I cannot let Hermione be like this.

I reach over and call her name softly. I take her shoulders and shift so I can draw her against me. My arms are around her and I cradle her gently, stroking her hair, holding her as she weeps. I want her to get the pain out, to let it go. She will not stop suffering until she does.

She clings to me, holding onto me. Her face is buried against my neck. I stroke her hair and am surprised at how soft it is. The tears are subsiding and her breathing is more regular. We sit together quietly for a while as she calms. Hermione starts to sit up, so I let her go.

She never has a handkerchief when she needs one. I find a clean one in my pocket and offer it to her.

"You never seem to have one of these when it is needed."

She gives me a rather watery smile, a sad one, and accepts the handkerchief. She wipes her face.

I need Hermione to explain to me what is going on in her mind when she comes here.

"You have nightmares and coming here helps?"

Hermione stares off into the distance again, collecting herself before speaking.

"It gets to the point where I'm having a nightmare, make myself wake up to stop it and then go right back to the dream when I fall asleep again. A few rounds of that and I stop sleeping. I'm getting only three or four hours of sleep a night and I can hardly function. I thought if I came here and talked to them, it would be like finally catching up with them in the dreams."

Hermione is looking at me now, making eye contact. All my instincts tell me that she is being truthful.

"It helped. The dreams didn't stop, but they didn't happen as often. I do better for a while, a few weeks or a month and then it starts up again."

"What do you talk to them about when you come here?"

"The kinds of things I mentioned earlier." Hermione shakes her head. "I always apologize. I always tell them I love them and miss them." She lifts her head and looks up at the sky. "I've asked them to do something about the nightmares."

"Is that what you meant when you said they do not exactly answer?"

"The nightmares are less frequent after a visit. I've taken that as an answer of sorts."

"Have you asked them to forgive you?"

"No," she answers in a small voice.

"Why not?"

"What if they can't forgive me?"

"Ask them."

"How can I do that in front of you? I'll sound like an idiot."

I have never confided this to anyone except Minerva, but I think I must tell Hermione.

"It is what I did with my mother, just a few years ago. I could not release any part of my guilt until I asked her to forgive me."

"But you didn't do anything wrong. You were just a child and you weren't even there,"

Somehow, she knows about my parents.

"You did nothing wrong. You were not a young child as I was, but you were not there either. Why should you feel that you have anything to be forgiven for?"

"I just do."

"So did I."

Hermione sits quiet and pensive. She is thinking.

"So how did you get past it?"

"I did not for many years. I allowed guilt and anger to build until I took it out on everyone around me. I added every grievance and every slight to the foundation I built on my anger. By the time I was seventeen, I expressed my anger through being a Death Eater."

"Do not misunderstand me, Hermione. My anger and guilt over my father's murder of my mother was not the sole cause of my becoming a Death Eater, but it took me down a path of poor decisions that did lead to it."

"I know coming here alone was a bad decision," Hermione confesses. "I knew it all along, but I kept doing it and kept lying about it. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Was it like that for you?"

The hard earth is getting uncomfortable and I would rather not keep kneeling like this. Besides, the sun will be going down soon and the temperature is dropping.

"I am getting too old to sit on the ground like this. Could we go sit on that bench over there?"

"All right, Severus." She gets up easily in the manner of the young.

I rise to my feet and stretch, popping that vertebra in my back. Better. We go over and sit on the mourning bench. I begin my explanation.

"I knew I was making decisions that could harm other people. At that point, I did not care. I was angry, bitter, and craved power over others. During my years at Hogwarts, I believed I had little power over my own life. To some extent, that was true. I had no immediate family, a legal guardian who cared nothing for me. I had little money, and once Lucius Malfoy left school, I felt I had no real friends. It is not easy to admit my reasons for becoming a Death Eater were so shallow. I wanted to get even with the world."

Hermione hesitates. "I don't think I am angry with other people as much as I am with myself. For not being there when they needed me."

"We have talked about this before. You know you could not have made a difference that night. If you had been there, you would be dead too."

"My head knows it, but my heart doesn't. My heart seems to have won the argument. But that isn't really it. It's knowing that Mum and Dad died because I'm a witch. It's what I am that killed them. Nothing you or anyone else says can change that or make it different. It's my fault and there's nowhere else to go with the blame or my anger."

"You are not the kind of person who takes out anger on others, Hermione. You take it out on yourself." I shake my head at her. "You would not go out and take the Dark Mark to pay back the world for getting a bad hand from fate, but you put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation instead."

"Maybe," she admits. "Maybe the nightmares are a way of punishing myself. The nightmares lead to lack of sleep and then I get desperate to find a way to stop them. So, I end up here." She looks up at me with a pleading look, hoping I will understand.

"It is a short-term solution, Hermione. It does not solve the real problem."

"Today is the first time I've come here alone once since before the Christmas holidays. Ron or Harry came with me the other times. I've really tried not to do it, but I was getting desperate. How did you manage to deal with what was happening to you?"

"The first step was twenty years ago when I asked Albus Dumbledore to give me a way to redeem myself for my actions as a Death Eater," I explain. "It broke most of the cycle and gave me a purpose to my life that I did not have before. I still had a good deal of anger. Correction, I still have a good deal of anger. It is not an excuse, but it is practically a habit to take it out on others. I believe I have improved on this over the last year or so since Potter finished at Hogwarts."

Hermione smiles.

"Minerva McGonagall was one of my teachers, too. In the difficult times of my youth and in the even more difficult times of my adult years, she has been supportive when I needed it, even if I would not accept it. I can rely on her to threaten me with a good hexing when necessary."

"A few years ago I indulged in a particularly spectacular loss of temper and Minerva suggested that I resolve some of my anger issues or the hexing would no longer be just a threat."

I pause for a moment and then continue. "It happened when you were a First Year, when we were setting up the protections for the Philosopher's stone. I presume Potter and Weasley told you about the Mirror of Erised?"

Hermione nods. "Harry said it showed him with his parents and other members of his family. There's never been a time when he didn't want family desperately. Ron saw himself as Head Boy and captain of the Quidditch team. He's always wanted to stand out among his brothers for his own accomplishments.

"The Mirror of Erised shows one their deepest desires," I explain. "There are other similar kinds of mirrors with different purposes. We have four of them stored at Hogwarts. Albus and I were moving them around; trying to decide which of them would best serve the purpose of hiding the Stone. We ultimately selected the Mirror of Erised.

What I remember best about that afternoon is the time I spent in front of the Mirror of S'deen. Unlike Erised, the Mirror of S'deen shows one what they most _need_ to see, even if what they need is buried deep in the unconscious mind.

As I stood in front of that mirror, I saw myself and my mother standing beside me. I knew it was only an image in the mirror, but I asked anyway. I asked her to forgive me for not protecting her from my father. In the reflection, I could see her reach out and take my left forearm in her hand."

"The Dark Mark?" Hermione whispers.

"Yes," I reply. "In the mirror, I could see her holding my arm and her lips moving. She was saying _I forgive you_, _I love you_, over and over. I assumed it was not real, just the magic of the mirror showing me what I needed to see until _I felt her hand on my wrist_.

My mother had a tiny hand and she wore a ring inscribed with runes on her right hand. I could feel her very fingers and the roughness of the engraving on the ring there on my wrist. I could feel it right through my clothing, against my skin. It was real. Whatever the mirror was showing, my mother's presence was real. She was telling me I was forgiven for not saving her, for taking the Mark, for so many other things I have done in my life."

"Ask them, Hermione," I tell her, "And look for a response."

"All right." Hermione rises and walks towards the graves. I remain on the bench, watching. She kneels at the foot of the two graves, saying things I cannot hear and making small gestures. She sits down, quiet and still, running her fingers through the grass in the gesture I have seen before.

After a few minutes, Hermione returns and sits beside me on the bench.

"I asked."

"Did they answer?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "But, I feel better for having said it."

"Be patient," I tell her gently. "Your answer may not come for a while. When you feel overwhelmed, ask them again. Keep faith that they will find a way to give you an answer."

She looks at me, her eyes wide with emotion. "I will."

"You do realize you have not finished talking to them, yet? You have to tell them goodbye. You have to tell them you cannot return to this place until after the war is over and it is safe."

"How do I know the compulsion won't come back?" There is hesitation and fear in her voice. "Coming here is the only thing that gets me any relief from the nightmares."

"If the nightmares continue or return, you will tell me and we will determine what to do," I tell her, "Especially if the frequency or severity of the nightmares prevents you from sleeping."

"How did you figure out what I was doing?"

"You told me on Astronomy Tower how guilty you felt. I could see a pattern in how exhausted you were when you returned to England and how you would then improve for a while. I mentioned it to Remus and he told me of the time you came here alone. I suspected you were coming here to relieve the guilt at some level." It would not do for me to reveal Draco's role in this.

"How did you manage after your parents died?"

"Not well." We sit back down on the bench. "My closest relatives were distant cousins. One of them was persuaded to become my guardian. I had a friend or two who was supportive. The circumstances of my parents' deaths were given a great deal of attention in the Daily Prophet. It made it difficult."

Hermione reaches over and puts her hand over mine. "I am sorry."

The feeling I cannot name is here again. Hermione is touching me, not afraid of me. She _cares_. I want to….

Not now. I cannot take advantage of her when she is vulnerable.

Hermione is doing better now. I believe we have made a start on resolving this issue. I stand up and her hand falls away from mine.

"We should go."

She looks confused.

"It is getting dark. You should return to Chicago and I have to get back to Hogwarts."

Her features become neutral.

"Very well." Hermione stands and picks up her backpack. She walks to the plot and stands at the foot of the graves.

I will give her some privacy so I walk on ahead to the copse of the trees. I turn and watch her. She is looking down at the graves, talking quietly again. She is silent for a moment and looks up at me. Hermione joins me at the trees that mark the edges of the Benton family plot.

"I'm done now," she says. "I told them I couldn't come back until after the war."

"If you will give me your word on that, I will not put the portkey charm back in place."

"Why would you trust me on it when I didn't keep my promise to Remus?"

"Because you will tell me if the compulsion returns. And I will know if you do not tell me the truth and you can rely on me to deliver the appropriate consequences." I give her a smirk.

Hermione smiles back at me. She pulls out the triple moon pendant portkey.

"I give you my word. I will not come back here until the war is over."

Hermione steps towards me, puts her hand on my arm and goes up on tiptoe and kisses me.

"I know that was a liberty. Thank you, Severus."

She disappears.

I am frozen in place.

Hermione kissed me again.

After what I did to her, locking and warding her into the cellar. Forcing her to come here and face her demons. I would have predicted a greater likelihood of being slapped.

Instead, she kissed me. Why does she always surprise me when she does this? I have yet to kiss her back properly. My reflexes are generally good, but she keeps kissing me when I least expect it.

I have one more thing to do.

I walk back down to the graves of David and Jane Granger. _Beloved Father_ and _Beloved Mother,_ as it says on the headstones.

"It is up to the two of you to help your daughter. She is tearing herself apart with guilt and in spite of anything I can do, the feeling will return unless you find a way to let her know she is forgiven. I do not know what is necessary to enable you to do this, but her need is great. You must find a way."

Perhaps I should speak to them of my intentions.

"I value your daughter highly. She is a most remarkable young woman and my intentions are honorable."

That is not entirely true and I am speaking to the dead. There are times when honesty is necessary. I would prefer not awaken one evening to find their irate spirits standing at the end of my bed because I have lied to them.

"For the most part, my intentions are honorable," I clarify. "If she agrees, I intend to court her properly when the war is over. I will look after Hermione. You have my word."

I walk back into the trees and apparate to Hogwarts.

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Author's Notes

Real Life has been extraordinarily busy the last three weeks. I don't know if I'll ever catch up with all my reviewers, but I have really good intentions. Getting this chapter ready to post was my first priority.

For those who asked, Dr. Masaru Emoto is real. He's a medical doctor from Japan who is doing research on the effect of intent on water.

For those who are worried the story is ending soon. Oh, no. I suspect we'll be somewhere around 90 chapters before it will be done.

Thanks to all my reviewers: Jocemum, Melissa, Maxine Durchova, Angel Tears 16, Riki, Mayura, SSHGDMLOVE, Lady Slone, Droxy, Sandstar08, Katyes, Lyndi578, MollysSister, Soul Bound 8686, Rain Today, Starbridge, Keket Amunet, Soul Chaser, Pyro313, Arime Setta, SEVERlyinlove, JustYourAverageReviewer, Severus-Fan, Kirien, SlytherinTwinCC , Andi-Scribbles, CinnamonMonty, Hebi R., Trialwylies, Lily121, Koliber, T wrecks, Danielle, Rinny08, Millenia2, Adele Rose, Page394, Darque Hart, Me613, lipasnape, Mugglemomof3, Erytha, PhoenixFlight, Skybluheaven, AJS, Golden Enki, Mrs. Alfred, Duj, Maddie50, Jade2099, Notwritten, Lady-Rhian, Shalloi, Siren34, Excessivelyperky, AmiMizuno1, Latinachikita, Amarantine, Abby, and Andi-Scribbles.

Without all of you, Looking for Magic wouldn't have reached over 1100 reviews. You keep me inspired and thinking.


	57. Chapter 57

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Over the next few days, I'll be visiting family for America's Thanksgiving holiday. Because I won't have access to the Internet, this chapter is being posted early as a thank you to all of my readers.

A special Thanksgiving _thank you _to Julia, my friend across the ocean.

Katja, if it would keep, I'd send you some turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie.

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Hermione  
March 25th, 1999

"I don't believe it."

I'm walking in a circle around Draco as he sits on the chair.

Warren leans back against the work surface in the kitchenette, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I wouldn't have thought we could make hair as light as yours, in fabulously healthy condition, look better than nature could make it, but there you have it," he says, shaking his head in amazement.

"Your hair glows," says Anita, in wonder. "You have gorgeous hair anyway, but this makes it shine." She runs her fingers through Draco's hair. "It's fine, but silky and has the most awesome opalescent quality to it."

"Kind of a pearly glow," I observe. Good heavens, I'm speaking reverently about Draco Malfoy's _hair_.

"Well, look what it did for Warren's hair," says Draco, closing his eyes and rolling his head in response to Anita's scalp massage.

Anita and I take a close look at Warren's head as he tips it down so we can see it better.

"The highlights look a little more gold, your brown hair looks healthier and the color has more depth," says Anita.

"I'm tempted to let it grow out to its natural color and see what the shampoo and conditioner can do for it.," says Warren.

"It has to be the charmed rosemary combined with the balsam," I murmur. "I can't think of anything else in the conditioner that could be doing this."

Warren shakes his head in a theatrically sensuous way, flinging the soft waves of his long layered hair back over his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, we've got a hit in the making," he says, doing his best to sound prophetic.

"It has to be the combination of the two," I say, taking some of Warren's hair between my fingers and examining it closely. "Charmed rosemary has been an ingredient in some of the best wizarding shampoos and conditioners for years. Balsam has been part of Muggle conditioners forever. Nobody has both, so that has to be it."

"I think we're ready to write it up and turn it in," says a triumphant Draco. "And if we include a complimentary bottle of shampoo and conditioner for each of the judges so they can try it for themselves, we'll have to win."

I can't help but chuckle. "Here we start a project to get the frizz out of my hair and we end up with a shampoo and conditioner that not only gets the frizz out, it enhances the natural beauty – whatever that might be – of whoever uses it, no matter what type of hair they have."

"Dad's going to love this," chortles Anita. "I'll pump him and Mom for contacts. Between them they know everybody who is anybody in American wizarding business. They can tell me who the best people are to contact. Just as soon as the project is graded, we can make the contacts."

"Does McKellon have a cosmetics division?" I ask. "I met Brenda Delavan from the pharmaceuticals division and we're planning to have lunch after spring break."

"Are you kidding, Hermione?" says Warren, looking aghast at my lack of knowledge of the cosmetics industry. "They own Mystic Vision, which is only the second largest cosmetics and hair care company in wizarding America."

"Then I can probably get her to give me a contact in the Mystic Vision subsidiary," I reply.

"Well," answers Warren, "If she gives you a contact I want to be in on the meeting. You're interested in pharmaceuticals. I want hair care and cosmetics. It would be a perfect opening for me if we can sell our shampoo and conditioner formula to Mystic Vision. I'll have a connection there and can land a cushy job after graduation. Maybe even before."

Warren's looking positively misty-eyed. I think he's having a vision about the future that would make Trelawney jealous.

"Let's not get the cart before the horse, guys," interrupts Anita. "First we need to write up our project report and have it judged before we start approaching cosmetics companies. If we can walk in with a top grade, it will get them to take us seriously. Do you have any idea how many proposals companies get for new shampoos or conditioners?"

"No, I really don't," says Draco, looking curious. "How many?"

Anita rolls her eyes. "Okay, so I don't actually know how many," she confesses, "But it could be a lot. We want to be taken seriously, so let's do this the right way. We don't want to ruin a potential contact by being premature. We need to plan a presentation about our product."

"Well, we need to be in class in half an hour and we've already blown off breakfast, unless Hermione's got a box of those cereal bars in her backpack," says Draco, looking rather boneless after Anita's scalp massage. "We should set a time to get together and write the report."

"I vote Hermione write it up," Anita pipes in, "She's a better writer than the rest of us."

"I don't mind doing the writing," I reply, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice, "But, we will all get together and decide the outline and the content."

I do not want to get stuck doing this by myself. Back at Hogwarts, helping a study group with an assignment usually meant Hermione got to do all the heavy lifting.

"That's only fair," says Warren. "Meantime, we should keep a running tally on the number of compliments we get on our hair."

"It will only work if we don't fish for compliments," mutters Draco. "Hint, hint, Warren."

"Oh, I suppose," says Warren, making a dramatic show of giving in. "No telling people that any of us have done something to our hair. We wait and see if they notice."

I have to stand back and take another good look at Draco.

"They'll certainly have to notice Draco," I announce, shaking my head in amazement. "His hair is so shiny; he's practically got a nimbus around his head. Not that anyone is going to mistake you for a saint, Malfoy."

"Perhaps the hair conditioner is recognizing my inner qualities and giving it an external representation," says Draco, giving me a wink.

I suppose it isn't good manners, but I snort in reply.

I start rummaging through my backpack and pull out the box of cereal bars. There are real advantages to having a bottomless backpack. I could practically live out of what I have stashed in there.

The four of us are munching our portable breakfasts as we head off to our classes.

----------------------------------

In Potions 202, Roger Santee raises his hand during Professor Boch's lecture. Boch is giving us some very timely instruction about the development of the Dreamless Sleep potion.

"Professor, we all know that Dreamless Sleep, Bernaud's Calming Potion, and Red Delight are addictive if used too often. But, how does that happen? Why are these particular substances addictive?"

Professor Boch rests one arm on the podium and looks thoughtful. He opens up his notebook computer and plugs it into the projector. A search through assorted files and with a mouse click, an image flashes up on the screen.

"It has to do with neurotransmitters and receptors," he begins. Professor Boch points to the screen behind him. "This is a representation of a cell within the central nervous system. Notice the strands coming out of the cell walls that look like branches of a tree. The branches are called dendrites."

He clicks again. "This representation shows two cells in the central nervous system and how messages are passed between them. Notice how the dendrites between the cells appear to touch?"

Another click and another image appears on the screen. "This is an enlarged version of the tips of the dendrites between the two cells. Notice that the tips do not actually physically touch. So how do messages travel between the cells?"

"The electrical messages actually pass via the neurotransmitters," he says, answering his own question. "Some examples of neurotransmitters are dopamine, serotonin, glycine, and epinephrine."

Professor Boch enlarges the image further and continues.

"The body produces neurotransmitters of different types for different purposes. Their molecular structure will be different from one type to the next. Notice the different shapes at the end of the dendrites?" he says, pausing for effect.

"Those are the receptors. Only one neurotransmitter will fit into a given receptor, because the receptors are designed to allow only one molecular structure to fit. A good analogy is to think of a lock and key. Only one key will fit into a given lock. Therefore, a receptor designed to fit dopamine will not fit serotonin. Dopamine will not fit into a serotonin receptor."

Professor Boch steps around the podium, the image on the screen to his right.

"This is how some kinds of addiction occur. There are substances artificially created or found in nature that come very close to having the same molecular structure as a neurotransmitter. If one of these substances is ingested, injected, or inhaled, it will fit into the receptor intended for a natural neurotransmitter."

"In the case of Dreamless Sleep, the extract from the root of the somnus plant has a molecular structure that fits into a glycine receptor. It is the extract of the somnus plant that gives Dreamless Sleep its dreamless quality."

I was already paying close attention, but this really has my interest.

"The problem with Dreamless Sleep happens over time," he continues. "First of all, if someone is plagued by nightmares and night terrors, getting to sleep without dreaming is psychologically addictive. If Dreamless Sleep is taken too often over a period of time, the central nervous system adapts to its presence, creating additional receptors. Over time, a higher and higher dosage is required to achieve the same result, a night of sleep without dreams. The body's ability to achieve sleep without it is diminished and the person becomes addicted."

I raise my hand to ask a question.

"How is it then that certain illegal Muggle drugs, such as methamphetamine or crack cocaine are so intensely addictive? I've heard that one dose can be enough to addict some people?"

"That's because those drugs cause an enormous flood of dopamine in the brain. The sheer volume of dopamine is overwhelming to the pleasure centers of the brain. One single experience of some of these drugs is so intensely pleasurable that there is nothing in natural experience that can exceed that pleasure. According to addicts, not even sex can compare. Thus, the addiction is both psychological and physical. We are not hardwired for moderation when it comes to pleasure. That is why these drugs are so dangerous. Once started, the craving to repeat the pleasure rush is overwhelming."

"Any other questions on this topic?" asks Professor Boch.

I have a few, but I will wait until class is over to ask the professor.

The lecture on the development of Dreamless Sleep continues until the bell rings at 4 pm, signaling the end of class. I wait until the other students have left and approach Professor Boch.

"Sir? There is something else I'd like to ask you about addiction."

"Of course, Hermione," says Professor Boch, waving me towards a seat.

"In the Muggle world, drug addiction is an overwhelming problem. Why isn't it in the wizarding world?"

"I suspect because of alchemy and potions development in ancient times," he replies. "There is historical information about ancient alchemists experimenting with substances they learned the hard way are highly addictive. An addicted wizard is affected just like an addicted Muggle. The most important thing in life becomes the next high. Over time, addicted alchemists lost interest in everything but that, including magic. As unlikely as it seems, the wizarding world just seemed to learn the lesson sooner and better than did the Muggle world. It never has been a significant problem here."

"That really is surprising, Professor." I remark. "I think I'd like to do more research on this. Do you have any suggestions where I might find information about the ancient alchemist's experiments?"

"I think there's something about it in _Pretiosissimum Donum Dei _by Georgius Aurach de Argentina from the fifteenth century. I remember being very impressed with it when I read it back at Hogwarts. There's a translation in our library here."

I nod. This is giving me ideas I need to pursue.

"Thank you Professor Boch. I believe I'll go visit the library tonight."

"You're welcome and happy hunting."

---------------------------------------

Draco and I meet at lunchtime at the delicatessen up the street from the dormitory. The cafeteria menu had beef and noodles listed for lunch, which neither of us can tolerate.

Draco orders a meatball sub and I choose a salad and a cup of chicken soup. Now that I am getting my appetite back, I'm trying to eat healthy foods. Nobody will notice that I also take a slice of the French silk chocolate pie.

It is my turn to pay and I hand the money to the cashier. Draco spots an empty table over in the corner and rushes to grab it before one of the other customers gets to it. The delicatessen is crowded, noisy, and smells of wonderful foods and fresh bread.

It is rare for the two of us to eat alone. Usually, it is a foursome with Anita and Warren.

For a while, our conversation focuses on the potential for our new hair care products formulae. Neither of us have any objection to the idea that the four of us could make a good deal of money if we can sell the formulas to a hair care products manufacturer.

We discuss the progress on Draco's apartment building. Cindy has been very successful in encouraging the tenants to leave. The top floor will be empty in April and the remodeling will start earlier than expected.

Draco has decided to take the two bedroom apartment at the front of the building on the top floor. He wants to be able to see out onto the street. That works out perfectly, because I want the two bedroom apartment at the back on the same floor. I'd much rather look out and see the backyard and the trees. The building is high enough for Crookshanks to look into the trees and see the birds. I can't wait for the wards to be installed around the property so Crooks can safely go outside in the yard. I'll have to _Accio_ him to get him out of the trees.

Anita has decided she needs to be discrete, because Adam is considering taking an apartment. She wants a one-bedroom apartment on whichever floor Adam isn't. She thinks it won't be obvious that she and Draco are practically living together.

I don't think they're going to fool anyone.

Warren and Elliott have decided to get an apartment together, but aren't sure if they will rent from Draco or move into a Muggle apartment building that rents to the gay crowd. They'd have to be careful about magic, if they do. There's only so much coming out a pair of gay wizards can indulge in safely.

Draco's planning to spend the summer in Chicago. He wants to take a computer class and work on getting the apartment building ready for the tenants and the service elves hired. Now that he's passed his driving test and has a full license, he wants to do some weekend road trips. He can't do that if he goes back to England. He doesn't say why, but I can't imagine Lucius Malfoy appreciating his son's fascination with Muggle technology. Draco probably wants to keep out of Voldemort's sphere of influence.

I want to go back to England for the summer. I can take a class and pick up more skills in statistical analysis.

I won't deny that my primary motivation is to be around Severus more than would be possible if I take the class at Avalon. After our session at the cemetery, I think our relationship has taken another step closer. We write to each other practically every night. I am confident that he actually likes me and is attracted to me.

That feels like such a miracle.

I feel ever so much better. The nightmares have diminished, so I'm even sleeping again.

"Earth to Hermione," says Draco, whimsically. He's waving his hand in front of my face.

I blink a couple of times and bring my attention back to the here and now. Oh, yes. I'm supposed to be eating lunch.

I laugh, a bit embarrassed.

"You were really off with the fairies," teases Draco.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I was thinking about this summer and everything that's going to happen. This could be a really great summer."

"I know what you mean," answers Draco. "Between Anita, getting a car, the apartment building, and things going so well at Avalon, this summer will be terrific."

We talk for a while about his plans for the summer and end up splitting my slice of pie between us. I can see that Draco is burning to ask me something, but is hesitating to do it. There are some things we cannot discuss in a place where Muggles can overhear our conversation. It isn't as if either of us can bring out a wand and cast a silencing spell without somebody noticing.

I guess Draco has figured out how to say what's on his mind.

"Hermione," he says in a hushed voice, "When you disappeared on Monday, you had me worried. I know the college has different expectations about class attendance compared to Hogwarts, but it isn't like you at all to just skip a day's worth of classes."

I think about it for a moment and decide I can tell him part of what happened and do it in a way that won't reveal Severus' role in it.

"We've got half an hour before our next classes," I suggest. "Why don't we go and sit at the play lot and talk there."

"Good idea."

Our rubbish goes into the bin and we stroll off in the direction of a small park on the next street. There are swings, see-saws, monkey bars, and other playground equipment favored by the local children. It's chilly, but not too cold to sit outside and there are a few mothers with young children. We sit down on a park bench outside of the toddler area and watch as three little girls play on the swings. No one is within earshot, especially with the children screeching and laughing as they play.

"I know there are things we can't talk about because of our situations," says Draco.

"Its okay, Draco," I assure him. "This doesn't really fall into that category." I shift on the bench so I'm facing him. "It really has more to do with how I haven't been coping with my parents' deaths."

"I didn't think you were doing very well with that," he replies, looking at me with concern.

"No, I haven't done well with it at all and someone back home figured it out and confronted me with it," I explain.

I'm surprised I feel so calm talking about it. A week ago, I couldn't have discussed it at all.

"I've been having a problem with nightmares to the point where I was hardly getting any sleep. It affected my appetite and created a full assortment of other problems. He figured it out and made me face what I was doing. I have to work through the reality that my parents died because I'm a witch. If I'd been born a Muggle, they'd still be alive. I'm trying to learn how to deal with that without feeling so guilty that I self-destruct like I was doing."

"So, you went back to England on Monday?"

"Yes," I reply. "I left about 3:30 am or so, since it would be 9:30 am in England. I planned to be back in time for classes, but I was unavoidably detained for several hours by a friend who was determined to help me get my head straight."

"You're not going to tell me which friend, are you?" asks Draco, teasingly.

"No. It's complicated," I sigh.

"Are you doing better?" he asks quietly.

"I think so," I reply. "It's only been a few days, but, I haven't had any nightmares and my appetite is better."

"We haven't talked about it, because we can't," says Draco, resting his arm on the back of the bench. I can tell he is choosing his words very carefully. "Either of us could get into a difficult situation because of politics back home. If I disappear, Anita knows who to contact. Maybe you should tell her how to contact people back home if something happens to you."

Is Draco trying to warn me that something is going to happen to me?

Draco shakes his head. I must have looked alarmed. I think he realizes how that had to sound and he's looking at me reassuringly.

"No, no. I don't mean something is going to happen to you. We don't know what's going to happen. It's just that Anita is neutral. When you disappeared, she and I agreed that if you weren't back by evening she would use her father's resources to contact the Weasleys. If I contact them or appear to tell her how to do it, it could be misunderstood by parties who have an interest in you and me."

I can feel the tension oozing out of me.

"I see what you mean and it is a good idea," I reply. "I'll tell Anita. I probably should have thought of it before."

We both stop to look at the children on the swings. So innocent and trusting that the world is a safe place.

Draco runs his hand down my arm and takes my hand. He's looking at me intensely.

"My father wasn't there," says Draco softly, his grey eyes sincere. "I asked him. He wasn't in on it."

My eyes fill with tears and a few spill over.

I reach over and put my arms around Draco, who hugs me back.

"I'm glad he wasn't," I sniffle. "It wouldn't have made a difference between you and me, but I'm glad he wasn't."

-----------------------------------

Five hours in the library followed by one cafeteria meal of indifferent meatloaf with instant mashed potatoes and canned green beans later and I'm back in the dorm.

I pull the black covered journal from the bottom drawer of the desk.

I open the book and look back to the notations since the 22nd when Severus locked and warded me in the potions lab in the cellar. I was so angry when he did it. From the moment I realized what happened, I knew with absolute certainty that it had to be Severus. No one else would be so shifty as to trap me the way he did.

I had the whole morning and afternoon to stew about it. Dobby wouldn't answer any of my questions when he brought me breakfast and lunch. By the time Severus arrived and sat down next to me at the lab table, I was furious.

If it wasn't for the fact that I knew full well he could wipe the floor with me, I'd have hexed him.

I didn't know what to expect when he took me to the cemetery. He started pulling bits and pieces of the story out of me. I didn't want to tell him, but he wasn't going to let me get away with denying any part of what I was doing. It was excruciatingly painful and utterly wonderful. Part of me wanted to cringe and hide. The rest just felt so relieved to tell him the truth.

He held me. He pulled me close and I buried my face in his robes and cried my heart out. He stroked my hair and held me close.

Not one word of censure or any implying that I was weak.

That's when I knew for certain he cares about me. I'm important to him. Me, Hermione Granger. Not the roles I fulfill. Not the former student, the fellow Order member, or the unofficial apprentice. It's me he cares about.

It's safe for me to love him. I don't know if he loves me, but I have hope.

He even told me about his mother and his own guilt. He said he hasn't told anyone else except Minerva about his experience when he stood in front of the Mirror of S'Deen. Severus sounded so absolutely certain that his mother's spirit was there and that she forgave him.

I wish my parents could forgive me. I hope they know how much I love them and miss them. I wish I could talk to them, just one more time.

I don't suppose the same thing could happen if I stood in front of the mirror. That would be like lightening striking in the same place twice.

Severus said to be patient and listen for an answer. I will.

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
March 23rd, 1999

Dear Severus,

For the first time in weeks, I slept through the night. When I woke up this morning, I was hungry.

As angry as I was when you warded me into the cellar, you probably did the right thing.

I'd been arguing with myself for days about whether or not to tell anyone how bad my sleeping problems were getting. I'd decide to do it and then talk myself out of it. I couldn't make a good decision, so I didn't make any decision at all.

Thank you for making me face this. I feel better.

Love,  
Hermione

--------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
March 23rd, 1999

Dear Hermione,

I am relieved you feel better and slept well last night.

I will not deceive you and claim that I knew what I was about when I planned this. When I set the portkey charm on the wreaths, my intent was to lock and ward you into the cellar until I could get there. I had no idea what I would say to you and hoped that I would somehow be inspired to say the right thing.

That sounds suspiciously like an Albus Dumbledore approach to a problem. Please assure me that I did not offer you a sherbet lemon at any point.

You will tell me if the nightmares return and interfere with your sleep.

Good night,  
Severus

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
March 24th, 1999

Dear Severus,

Be assured, no sherbet lemons were offered at any time during the confrontation.

I had no nightmares last night and actually ate today.

You did say the right thing, however it is you were inspired to do it.

Love,  
Hermione

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
March 24th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

You failed to confirm that you will tell me if the nightmares recur and interfere with your functioning.

Now that I have considered it, I do not believe I could be Imperioed into offering you lemon sherbets. Dark chocolate, perhaps. Never a lemon sherbet.

Good night and sleep well.

Severus

----------------------------

I cannot help but smile at the journal entries over the last few days. Severus is teasing me. He can only express so much of those warm feelings before he starts feeling vulnerable. I'm getting to know him well and can read between the lines.

He does care. He just has a terrible time getting the words out. When I return to England and see him on April 3rd, I intend to help him with that. If I can spontaneously kiss Severus Snape on three different occasions and live to tell the story, I can figure out how to help him become more comfortable with expressing his emotions.

I will somehow be inspired to say and do the right thing. If it worked for him, it will work for me.

Now that I have something exciting to write about beyond the improvement in my sleeping situation, I can hardly wait to get my ideas down on paper.

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
March 25th, 1999

Severus,

Today in Potions 202, Professor Boch lectured on the development of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Somehow, it led to a discussion about addiction and how it occurs.

I started thinking about the whole concept and why drug addiction hasn't been a problem in the wizarding world the way it is in the Muggle world. Professor Boch said it was because ancient alchemists indulged in some experimentation with particular potion ingredients and ended up addicted, essentially ruining their lives. His guess was that the wizarding world learned the lesson early and so powerfully addictive potions never caught on here.

I started wondering if that was the real reason. I went to the library and did some research. I wish I had access to Hogwart's library where I could read the original works and not the translations of some of those early alchemical texts.

Before I get into that, I think it is important to consider the biological mechanism of addiction. You might already know this. According to Muggle science, ingesting, inhaling, or injecting certain substances, such as crack cocaine, results in flooding the brain with dopamine. This triggers the pleasure centers of the brain, resulting in an overwhelming sensation of pleasure. There is nothing in nature that can even begin to compare to this level of pleasure, which makes it psychologically addicting. The person craves a repeat of the experience and ingests more of the crack cocaine.

This is the really interesting part: Over time, the addict's brain adapts to the torrent of dopamine by dampening down the system. Addicts have fewer dopamine receptors of the kind found in the part of the brain involved in motivation.

With fewer receptors, the dopamine system is desensitized. Because the addict was over-stimulated before, he now feels under-stimulated and needs more and more of the drug to feel anything at all. Research has shown that cocaine addicts' brains don't react to the things that turn on non-addicts, such as sex, food, or money.

The neural pathways associated with these other interesting stimuli are left idle and lose their strength. The part of the brain associated with judgment and inhibition also stops functioning normally.

That is the aspect related to Muggle science. Of course, I've copied the articles for you to read and they are on their way via Minerva.

Now, here's the part relating to the wizarding world.

Avalon's library has an English translation copy of _Pretiosissimum Donum Dei_ by Georgius Aurach de Argentina. I'm sure Hogwart's has an edition in Latin. If not, I bet Albus has a copy.

Although it was written in the fifteenth century, it references some early alchemical experiments using charmed forms of belladonna, probably producing a magical form of belladonna alkaloids. The nature of the charms used is lost in history, but alluded to in source documents de Argentina used. It appears the source documents are lost, too.

De Argentina describes the behavior of the some of the ancient alchemists who took the belladonna potions. It appears that they became delusional and over time lost interest in alchemy, most aspects of daily life and even magic in their desire to use the belladonna. He describes them as an example to others of the dangers of the misuse of belladonna.

Here is where the 'what ifs' come in to play.

What if the charmed belladonna was addictive? De Argentina's description of the alchemist's deterioration matches that of a Muggle drug addict.

What if the charmed belladonna affects the receptors normally used by an unknown neurotransmitter that allows wizards to use magic? Could it be that the lack of interest in magic was actually a deterioration in the ability to use magic?

What if the use of charmed belladonna results in a genuine loss of capacity to use magic, because of the increasing volume of belladonna needed to attain the high?

Could we use this in some way as a weapon against the Dark Lord? What if there was a means of making him ingest an addictive substance that could also impair his magic?

I think there is something about the Cruciatus curse that interferes with the use of magic. Is there something in the Cruciatus curse that could relate to the charm used on the belladonna by ancient alchemists?

Or, is there something in the Cruciatus curse that affects the receptors or the neurotransmitters? If there was, it could explain why the wizarding world has such a strong ethic against the use of addictive substances.

Addiction may equate with the loss of magic, which would destroy the wizarding world.

That's my theory. What do you think?

I didn't have any nightmares last night and I can't wait to see you.

Love,  
Hermione

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
March 26th, 1999

Hermione,

When you come back to England in April, we should discuss this possibility. I would like Albus, Poppy, Remus, and Bill to be there when we do. Of all the Order members, they would have the best understanding of the science behind your theory. The earliest opportunity for the meeting would be the evening of Monday, April 5th. You may have come up with a viable approach. There is a great deal of work we would need to do to isolate a substance that could be used against the Dark Lord.

I will see you on April 3rd. We will go over your literature search in detail then.

My apologies, I must go back to the lab to finish the curative potion for merpox. Apparently there is quite an outbreak of it in the mer population of the lake.

I am glad the situation with the nightmares has improved. I look forward to seeing you in a week.

Severus

------------------------------

Author's Notes

Yeah, the real science bug bit me again. It cannot be helped. I am a geek.

_Pretiosissimum Donum Dei_ by Georgius Aurach de Argentina is a real book and he was a real alchemist. I took liberties with history and made him a wizard.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Slytherinchick101, Tranquility, Evil-Mastermind 666, Arime Setta, Welfycat, Joani-the-unique-being, Soul Chaser, SEVERlyinlove, Grindylow, Droxy, Pure-blood Princess Riitta, Lily1121, SlvrNight, Duj, PhoenixFlight, Amsev, notwritten, Excessivelyperky, Latinachikita, Maddie50, Hebi R., Severus-Fan, Rain Today, Kirien, SlytherinTwinCC, t wrecks, Beate, Fan-rei, KK Duke, SSHGDMLOVE, Caseyff, Lady Rhian, Ami Mizuno1, Rebelgal4ever, Erytha, Koliber, Jocemum, Soul Bound 8686, Abhinetri, Miroku75, Danielle, Lyndie578, MollysSister, Mugglemomof3, Me613, Darque Hart, Nativewoman29, Lipasnape, and AMistressMalfoy.


	58. Chapter 58

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for her recommendation to redo the beginning of the chapter. Daniel Schuler's story came out of it. She also pointed out that World War I was known as The Great War prior to World War II. That or the prophecies were amazingly accurate. Oops.

----------------------

Daniel Schuler  
March 27th, 1999

The castle turrets gleamed in the midday sun. Leaded glass windows reflected the trees off in the distance. Other windows were of stained glass in brilliant jewel colors of sapphire, emerald, citrine, and ruby. The elaborate corbels supported balconies displaying enormous stone gargoyles. It was easy to imagine the fanged and clawed monsters coming to life and extending their bat-like wings to swoop down to defend the castle against all comers.

It was a setting for a medieval fairy tale.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was like nothing Daniel Schuler had ever seen before. On a billionaire's vacation budget, he'd seen some pretty astonishing things.

A thestral-drawn carriage had met them at Hogsmeade station. Margaret was already expressing regret that they had not planned time for a walk around the quaint wizarding town. The journey through the picturesque countryside had relaxed both of them after the stress of the portkey journey from Chicago to London.

Portkeying was easier on Margaret than it had ever been on Daniel. In spite of the stomach-calming and headache potions he'd imbibed upon their arrival at the hotel in London, he'd been queasy until the gentle rhythm of the magical train helped him relax and lulled him to sleep. The nap had done him a world of good, especially since they'd risen early in order to get a few things done before their departure. Daniel had never done well with adjusting to the time changes associated with transoceanic travel.

Magical remedies helped, but didn't work as well for Daniel as they did for Margaret or the children. He supposed it was because their magic was so much stronger than his. He smiled as his lovely Muggleborn wife gazed up to the castle in raptures. Her brilliance eclipsed his own in so many ways. At the time of their courtship, it was Margaret who was viewed by their friends as having all of the potential. He was simply the man with the pocket protector and slide rule who couldn't stop talking about mathematics.

Deciding that it would be much too tempting for Margaret to tease him for being overly sentimental, Daniel held back a wide smile as he thought back on the years that had brought him to this point.

In 1968, Margaret was fresh out of college with an advanced degree in architecture and a St. Bridget's education with skills in Transfiguration that never ceased to astonish him. Daniel, on the other hand, was living in a basement apartment in the Chicago suburb of Cicero. He had money, he was just pouring all of it into the business and there was little left for niceties like a decent place to live. At thirty, he thought he was a confirmed bachelor.

It was not that he wanted to be a bachelor. He simply couldn't hold up his end of a conversation with an interesting woman and couldn't imagine finding any woman who could possibly be interested in him. Having a doctorate in theoretical mathematics didn't prepare him for integrating into the real world of 1960s' cocktail parties.

Daniel didn't like martinis or Manhattans, didn't smoke, and couldn't even begin to fake being suave. Wizarding cocktail parties were even worse. His magic was so limited; he couldn't even impress a woman by lighting her cigarette for her. A _Lumos_, he could manage. _Wingardium Leviosa_ worked reasonably well, if the object didn't weigh much or need to be levitated very high. Simple charms were a possibility, but Daniel couldn't throw a hex to save his life.

Margaret Bishop didn't have those issues. She was bright, confident, and could make conversation with anyone. She didn't need a man to light her cigarette. A little wandless magic and she could do it for herself.

Fortunately, his cousin Samantha kept insisting Daniel quit calculating algorithms long enough show up for her parties and that he wasn't allowed to be the first one to leave. At some point, he realized that Margaret wasn't faking her interest in his work on integrating Arithmantic principles into computer programming. He had just finished describing how the interaxial probability principle could be incorporated into binary code when she kissed him for the first time. He fell head over heels in love.

Daniel knew that when Margaret accepted the diamond ring he really couldn't afford, she didn't realize she was going to marry a man with a destiny. She thought she was marrying a brilliant, imaginative almost squib with a knack for Arithmancy.

That might have been the case, were it not for Nostradamus

His family understood why he'd had a difficult time finding the right witch and settling down. They'd encountered his kind of wizard before. They had a tendency to produce seers and Arithmantic geniuses, though they usually showed up a few generations apart. These kinds of wizards generally didn't fit in well socially.

Reserved, genuinely shy, and lacking magical talent, Daniel didn't think he'd be any of those things. His Great Great Great Aunt Katja disagreed.

Tante Katja, as she preferred to be called, was the greatest Arithmancer of her generation. As such, she was the one who had inherited The Family's collection of prophecies from their ancestor, Michel de Nostradame.

These were not the obscurely written quatrains contained in _Les Prophecies_, the book Nostradame published in 1555. Those were written for Muggles and were left ambiguous enough that most could only be interpreted after the prophesized events had already occurred. The real prophecies were contained in a series of journals that were never published. The wizarding prophecies were far more explicit and were intended to guide the descendants of Michel de Nostradame and the rest of The Family through the difficult years to come.

A wizard of uncertain abilities, the man who became known as Nostradamus came from a wizarding family of uncertain fortunes.

The family name was respectable enough in Pureblood wizarding circles and there was a bit of carefully accumulated and hidden fortune. Daniel's ancestors were circumspect about how they used their seer capabilities. They were secretive and withheld information from general wizarding knowledge in order to benefit The Family.

For example, they knew the Second Crusade would not go well and gave only enough of their fortune and manpower to the effort to stay out of trouble with more powerful families. In 1320, it helped when the family seer foretold of a shortage of black pepper coming from south India because of a series of ship-destroying storms. An investment into other means of transit paid off nicely. Other investments in ship-building businesses were equally profitable. The Family benefited from both sides of the problem.

When Michel turned out to be a bit of a publicity hound, The Family imposed their will and forced him to modify the book he intended to publish to hide just how good a seer he truly was. The talents of the seers were intended to help The Family preserve itself and prosper, not to benefit the ego of one single member. So, _Les Prophecies_ was published and confounded generations to follow with the confusing quatrains.

Michel's journals, which contained names, dates, and places were given into the care of a selected member of The Family, usually an Arithmancer who could make best use of the information to predict trends to their benefit.

The Family, which had largely settled in Austria, knew to relocate a branch out of France five years ahead of the Revolution that killed off much of the nobility and whole wizarding families. South American chocolate and American tobacco were predicted to be good investments. Careful investment and hiding the proceeds kept The Family stable, prosperous, secretive, and very clannish.

In 1840, Tante Katja was the new inheritor of Michel's wizarding prophecies. Being inclined to take a long view, she utilized specifics of the prophecies to Arithmantically project Europe's long-term future. She was alarmed at what she found. The Family would be safe and prosperous for the next sixty to seventy years. However, wars were coming. The names Rasputin, Archduke Ferdinand, Karl Marx, Grindelwald, and Hitler featured prominently in Michel's prophecies. Tante Katja's projections showed death and devastation for The Family, if they remained in Europe.

The prophecies closest to the year 1550 were the most specific in terms of times, dates, locations, and identities of lesser characters involved. The further into the future Michel projected, the more difficult the interpretation. In spite of her best efforts, she could not determine what he meant when Michel wrote that safety and prosperity could be found in 1850 in the city of stinking onions.

In 1848, Tante Katja's daughter was eating dinner at the dining room table when she told her parents an amusing story of her day in school. Her class was studying the geography of North America. There was a small city on the shores of Lake Michigan whose name was taken from the Potawatami term for _smelly onions_. A city called Chicago

Katja Schuler summoned the heads of different branches of The Family and told them of her predictions. The decision was made to sell businesses, houses and land and relocate to Chicago.

In 1850, Tante Katja, her husband, and her five children moved into a modest house in a German neighborhood in Chicago. They settled in nicely, along with the other branches of the family that moved into the area. Before long, the immigrants established wizarding and Muggle businesses that prospered and grew.

By the 1870s, Tante Katja's children were grown and living on their own. She now had time to examine more of Michel's prophecies and do some additional studying on the side. The rather clannish Family was producing more squibs than ever. Arithmantic projections showed that the problem was going to get worse if the trend of marrying within The Family continued. Tante Katja read Darwin's _On The Origin of Species_ and _The Descent of Man_. She added a few additional facts about survival of the fittest to her Arithmantic projections and found the solution.

Once again, the heads of the different branches of The Family were summoned to sit around Tante Katja's dining room table. She explained the effect that inbreeding was having on magical capabilities of the children. She showed them her Arithmantic tables and predictions. A Family decree was established forbidding marriage to anyone one could conceivably call a cousin. Marry for love, marry a Muggle or a wizard, but never marry a cousin.

In 1920, it became readily apparent that Tante Katja's projections had been accurate. The Family was doing very well. By leaving Europe, they had avoided the Russian Revolution and sustaining civilian casualties during The Great War. The children and grandchildren born during the last fifty years were healthier and magically stronger than their ancestors because of the infusion of fresh DNA into The Family gene pool.

Knowing that Prohibition, the Great Depression, and a second Great War were ahead, The Family diversified. Instead of staying in the German enclaves of the Chicago area, the new generations were scattering throughout the United States. Those who liked rural life settled on farms or ranches. Others went into the professions of law or medicine, both wizarding and Muggle. The Schulers and other branches of the Family were well-established in the middle class.

There was carefully concealed wealth available to help any member of The Family who needed it. During the Great Depression, Family members had to make it look like they lost their money, just like everyone else. Because of the hidden resources, nobody went hungry or lacked the means to heat their homes or clothe their children. That was true for the squibs as well as the magically powerful.

Daniel was born in 1938, just as the Grindelwald began his rise to power which would devastate European wizardry. Tante Katja's projections were hailed as the saving of The Family. German and Austrian wizarding families had been given the choice of supporting Grindelwald freely or by force. Those who had not already escaped to England, America, or other parts were enslaved by the thousands and dying by the hundreds.

It took two generations to recover from the damage done by Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore was hailed as a hero.

Michel's prophecies mentioned the bumblebee who would fell a forest.

Daniel had a happy childhood. He was the youngest in a family of six children, born late as a surprise long after his mother thought she was beyond such things. The only sadness he could remember were conversations he heard between his parents where they speculated that Daniel was a squib. It was especially sad since this branch of the family had not produced any in a generation.

Tante Katja insisted on receiving reports about any of her or her siblings' children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and so forth. Although she had never met Daniel, when she learned of his intuitive grasp of mathematics, she insisted on seeing eight year old boy. The two of them played number games. The number games were Arithmancy exercises, usually used to teach sixteen year olds intermediate Arithmantic principles.

After that, Tante Katja tutored Daniel herself. The best day of his week was on Saturday when Daniel didn't have to go to Muggle elementary school. That was the day he spent with Tante Katja playing wonderful games with Arithmantic tables and formulas.

When he was eleven, Tante Katja invited an odd man to come from England and bring boxes and boxes of wands with him. The moment Daniel held the nine and one half inch willow wand with a unicorn hair core; he felt that tiny spark of magic come to life. His magic would never get him a letter to St. Bridget's, but combined with mathematical genius, Tante Katja declared young Daniel to be the next great Arithmancer in The Family.

From Tante Katja, Daniel learned Arithmantic techniques outstripping any Mastery program. Because Daniel didn't know it was impossible, he developed new approaches to formulating the interdependence between technology and societal development. Tante Katja was amazed and pleased. Daniel understood her instructions to keep these new formulas within The Family.

Tante Katja died two days after Daniel completed the oral defense of his doctoral dissertation. She had passed on Michel de Nostradame's leather bound journals to Daniel's keeping three months before. Surrounded by her children and grandchildren, Daniel held her hand tenderly and listened attentively to Tante Katja's final words to him. Her faded blue eyes and the deep creases on her face had seen almost one hundred and fifty years of living. Her last minutes were spent in the company of her most favored nephew, the one who would be her living legacy.

"Look to your grandchildren for the next great seer," she murmured. "Among your great grandchildren, you will find your heir."

Her eyes closed, her breathing stopped, and her spirit slipped quietly away.

A wave of sadness passed through Daniel as he remembered Tante Katja's last moments. Of all the members of his family, she had understood him best. Thirty years later, he still missed her gentle ways, quiet smile, and their blazing arguments about Arithmancy.

The years that followed were some of the most exciting of Daniel's life. With Michel's prophecies and his own talent, he knew in which direction to go. While so many of his peers were looking to huge mainframe computers as the way of the future, Daniel knew he needed to think smaller.

One single prophecy spoke of small boxes that could think like an Arithmancer and speak to each other. Daniel smiled to himself as he thought of how Michel must have struggled to find the words to describe technology 450 years in the future.

In 1972, Daniel was certain Michel was talking about small computers that could communicate through a programming language. His Arithmantic projections told him to move carefully. Working with two distant cousins who had engineering skills, they created their first small computer.

That first version had all of 256 bytes of memory and would have sold for $750 without a monitor or keyboard. Considering that a nice car could have been purchased for $3000, it would have been too expensive for most people. It was three years and seven versions later that they had their first chip capable of recognizing the magical signature of the user. It was unreliable and tended to burn out after a few weeks of use.

Meanwhile in 1975, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak formed Apple Computers and built computers in a garage. They sold two hundred of their Apples.

Daniel knew he had to move carefully. His computer was better and faster, but for the safety of The Family, he knew his creations should follow those invented by Muggles. He had to withhold the more advanced technology of his computers. To avoid attracting too much attention, his products should be released to be only a little bit better than what was already out there.

When the Apple II hit the market in 1977, the demand for home computers grew exponentially.

Digital Magic premiered The Wiz in 1978 and the competition was on.

The next fifteen years saw computer companies rise and crash as the demand exploded and technology changed the market every year. It was survival of the fittest and the war was brutal.

Of course, Digital Magic had a unique selling advantage. The wizarding world could only access wizarding resources through a Digital Magic computer, the exclusive purveyors of their patented magically enhanced chip. Only a magical human could get past that special sensor which could detect the user's magical signature. A squib or a Muggle could use a Digital Magic computer, but could never access American Wizards On-Line or wizarding websites

Daniel Schuler had a monopoly. Best of all, the American Muggle government had no idea it existed.

It was a highly effective way to get very, very rich and very, very powerful.

Which was a very good thing, because the first time he held Adam in his arms, Daniel Schuler vowed he would move heaven and earth for his children. For the first time in his life, he understood how Tante Katja could move The Family from the old country to the new world. If Daniel had to change the world to keep his family safe and secure, he would do exactly that.

Michel's prophecies spoke of a tiny piece of stone etched with a man's name that called out that name when asked. Arithmantic genius was not required to figure out that he was referring to an identification microchip. The time frame was unclear, but Daniel interpreted it to mean that the wizarding world was at risk of exposure within the next few generations.

All it would take was one repressive regime to insist on microchipping all of its citizens. Glamours and Polyjuice, the wizarding world's best protections for hiding one's identity in the Muggle world would be rendered useless, unless the means to perform some form of micro-transfiguration of the chip was developed. A highly unlikely notion, according to the expert Transfigurationists within The Family.

The wizarding world had never done any sort of accurate census. Rough estimates indicated that approximately one person per two thousand had wizarding capabilities strong enough to be expressed as magic. That meant that in the United States, there could be 140 thousand magical humans out of 280 million residents.

Daniel didn't like those odds.

He also believed that the best defense was a good offense. If technology could expose the wizarding world, he wanted to be a part of the development of that technology. If the wizarding world could access the most advanced technology and enhance it even further through magical means, they would be in a better position to deal with exposure when it came.

One Sunday afternoon, Daniel was sitting on the floor playing with three year old Adam. Two month old Anita was napping in her baby carrier. Daniel performed his fatherly duty by carefully placing one building block on top of another at his son's direction. He had just placed the last blue dowel on the top when the whole tower collapsed. Adam giggled joyfully as a red block at the base floated into his hand.

His son was magical.

Adam chortled with delight as his laughing father grabbed him up in a hug, leading to a tickling session which left them both breathless. Anita slept through all the excitement.

His son would never grow up worrying he was a squib. It wasn't possible to know about Anita's magical abilities, but his children would have the best magical education their father could find for them.

It was that afternoon that the idea of a wizarding college first occurred to Daniel. Above and beyond the concept of providing an excellent magical education, it would allow Daniel to recruit the best and brightest young minds of the wizarding world. The faculty could be a veritable think-tank and help bring together magic and science to prepare for the future.

Daniel could think of no better way to invest a few billion dollars from his personal fortune.

Thus began Avalon College.

The college was his official reason for today's visit to Scotland. Truthfully, it was Michel's prophecies and Daniel's Arithmantic projections based on those prophecies that brought him to Dumbledore. These were vaguer than Michel's earlier prophecies. They referred once again to the Bumblebee and a wizard of Dark Humor, which could only be Tom Riddle. There was something else in there about the Marked Man and the Maiden, which had Daniel rather mystified at the moment.

Daniel's mind shifted as he turned away from the past and looked to the present. The present was a magical castle and a meeting with the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

A tall middle-aged witch wearing spectacles, long skirts, and a traditional witches' hat met Daniel and Margaret at the gates. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall.

Margaret was already waxing poetic about the beauty of the castle and the grounds. The Professor attempted to answer a few of Margaret's questions about the history of the castle as they walked up the pathway to the main doors.

Inside the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall introduced Margaret and Daniel to Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor who appeared to have a bit of goblin blood to him. Margaret got in one question about the charms used on the ceiling and Flitwick's response looked like it might take all afternoon. She was so absorbed in her discussion with the Professor, Daniel wasn't sure that she even noticed his peck on her cheek and assurance he'd see her in a few hours.

After an interesting ride on the revolving staircase, Daniel followed Professor McGonagall into the headmaster's office, leaving Margaret to continue the tour with the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Looking around the room, he was overwhelmed by what he saw.

Portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses covered the walls. There were witches and wizards garbed in costumes from the Middle Ages, Elizabethan ruffs, traditional Alchemist's robes and every British period costume in between. The residents were moving about within the portraits, seeming to be alert and watching what was going on. They were making remarks to each other in soft voices.

Places on the walls not covered by portraits were filled with shelves full of books. Arcane texts going back centuries filled the shelves to overflowing. Daniel wondered how much magical knowledge was represented within this room.

A huge desk stood on a platform, the focal point of the room. The desk was covered with stacks of parchments and a quaint inkstand with an assortment of quills. Behind the desk, alongside the huge chair stood a perch occupied by a large scarlet and gold phoenix, trilling softly. A cluster of well-worn chairs stood in front of the fireplace.

A tall man with graying hair who looked to be rather worn himself rose from one of the chairs as Daniel and Professor McGonagall strode into the room.

An ancient wizard was making his way down a flight of stairs from an upper level of the office.

'This must be Albus Dumbledore," thought Daniel. With his extraordinarily long white hair and beard, combined with the heavily brocaded royal blue robes and matching wizard's cap, he made quite a theatrical entrance.

"Allow me to welcome you to Hogwarts," said the wizard, "I am Albus Dumbledore and you must be Daniel Schuler." The old man moved across the room with a spryness that belied his years. Daniel held out his hand, receiving a firm handshake in return.

"Please allow me to introduce my companions." Dumbledore held out his hand to the woman. "Of course, you have already met Minerva McGonagall, our Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Headmistress." Daniel received a nod from the woman who had greeted him and Margaret at the entrance of Hogwarts.

"This is Remus Lupin," introduced Professor Dumbledore. The tall man with the graying hair stood and offered his hand in welcome.

Daniel knew of Minerva McGonagall from her involvement in the Grindelwald War and the first Voldemort War. Remus Lupin, was unfamiliar to him. He made a mental note to have him researched.

Daniel was offered one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. A house elf appeared with a tea service and a plate of biscuits. Professor McGonagall poured and passed cups of fragrant tea to the others. The intent was to make everyone comfortable, but it was apparent to Daniel that he was viewed with some caution. Always the straightforward businessman, Daniel decided to launch into the real reason for his visit.

"With your permission gentlemen and lady," said Daniel, "I would like to get straight to the point of my visit."

"By all means," replied Dumbledore peering over his spectacles.

"At the risk of being a blunt American, I asked to meet with you and the most significant members of your organization to discuss the status of your war with Voldemort."

Daniel paused to assess their reaction. It was carefully neutral, so Daniel continued.

"This war has been going on for almost twenty-five years at varying degrees of intensity. There have been times when Voldemort has thrown British wizarding society into complete chaos. I believe your group has responded to that threat effectively, gaining ground against the Death Eaters for periods of time even when your government has chosen to ignore the reality of Lord Voldemort's return.

I have approached you because your people have been more effective against Voldemort than your own government has been. However, I believe you are now entering a critical timeframe, when one group or the other will ultimately come out a winner."

"Let us say for the sake of argument," interrupted Dumbledore, "that you are correct in your assumptions about _our group_. What would lead you to believe some sort of culmination is at hand?"

"I have run the probabilities myself," answered Daniel, looking at McGonagall and Lupin. "I'm certain the Headmaster could tell you that I come from a family lacking in magical talent. That was the reason my ancestors left Austria more than a hundred years ago. We could not compete against the magically powerful families on the continent. But, we found we could do quite well in the United States with the one talent that seems to run in the family."

Daniel leaned forward to emphasize his point. "I could not take on any of you in a duel. Doubtlessly any of you on your worst day could leave my body parts scattered across a field. With all due respect to Professor McGonagall, I could not transfigure my way out of a paper bag.

But, when it comes to Arithmancy, not one of you could touch me. I have used Arithmancy in ways your Arithmancy professor has never even imagined. By applying Arithmancy to business and social trends, I have made myself a very wealthy and powerful man."

"And what do your Arithmantic predictions tell you?" asked Lupin.

"That significant events are happening on both sides," answered Daniel. "Something decisive is coming. I cannot tell you exactly what it is. Arithmancy will not give me the exact date and time when it will happen, but it points to something happening this summer or no later than early autumn that will make the difference for one side or the other."

"If it can tell you nothing more definitive than that, how can this information be of benefit?" inquired Professor McGonagall.

"I cannot tell you how you might be able to use this information. I can only tell you how I am using it," replied Daniel

Daniel shifted in his chair, taking a sip of his tea. "I would prefer that your side win this war. There are a number of us in wizarding America who have been monitoring the situation in England for quite some time. It is obvious that a win for Voldemort would be a disaster for the world in general. If wizarding Britain falls to the Dark, it is only a matter of time before Voldemort will turn his attention to Europe, and ultimately America. Wizarding America has a vested interest in preventing that from happening.

"Quite honestly, Professor Dumbledore, it is your experience with Grindelwald that brings me to you now. In the 1940s, you were instrumental in bringing together a coalition of wizards from many nations, who worked together effectively to defeat Grindelwald. In my opinion, Voldemort is the darkest wizard since that time. There are many of us who believe you are wizarding Britain's best bet for a victory."

"Am I to take this to mean that there might be the possibility of an alliance here?" asked Dumbledore.

"Of a sort," said Daniel. "At this point we are not ready to openly join with you in a battle against Voldemort. However, you may think of us as backup. We are prepared to offer you resources, such as scientific information of the kind Hermione Granger is doubtlessly supplying you with, through her own research at the college.

Yes, I am fully aware of Miss Granger's close friendship with Harry Potter, the young man who has had at least five significant encounters with Voldemort. Hermione has become friends with my daughter and has been a guest in my home.

I arranged for Anita and Hermione to encounter each other by ensuring they were assigned as suitemates at the college. We wanted to make contact here and assumed Hermione's connection with the Order of the Phoenix would help establish it. We were reasonably certain of her affiliation, given the murder of her family by the Death Eater faction, her association with the Weasley family and her reputed friendship with Harry Potter."

"Are you suggesting that Avalon College might actively assist in research?" Dumbledore took a sip of his tea.

"You will find that a number of our instructors are willing to provide technical assistance and information that has the potential to be useful to you. You need only ask. In addition to that, you may find that financial resources could be provided if you make the case for them.

More specifically, we may be able to help you develop weaponry you can use against Voldemort. Having some sense of how astute she is, I'm sure Hermione has already provided you with scientific information you may be using in weapons development. From what I understand, Voldemort has such a strong bias against Muggle technology, he would have no idea how to deal with weapons combining magic and Muggle science."

"This is a most generous offer," said Dumbledore. "We will give it serious consideration."

"Do not misunderstand me," said Daniel shaking his head. "This offer is not entirely altruistic. My people prefer that your people win the war without the direct involvement of our personnel. The American and British wizarding worlds have been allies before. We were so briefly during the Rasputin business and full allies during the Grindelwald War. We are prepared to ally ourselves with you again against Voldemort."

Daniel brought the full weight of his political and financial power into his bearing. "We wish to give you resources you need to win, but we won't get into this one directly unless you lose. If it comes to our direct involvement, I would remind you of what happened when we protected Canada after Grindelwald made incursions there. It won't go well for British wizarding society to maintain independence if we come in and take on Voldemort. We overwhelmed Canadian wizarding society in the 1940's and as far as the wizarding world is concerned, Canada is the 51st state of the United States regardless of Muggle boundaries.

If we get directly involved in your business, we are likely to expect Britain to become the 52nd state. In case you haven't noticed, you generally don't get help from the United States anymore without a price tag involved. It usually involves expecting unquestioning loyalty to our agenda," said Daniel shaking his head with a frown.

"Are you speaking on behalf of your wizarding government?" queried Dumbledore with surprising calm as he signaled the irate Professor McGonagall and Mr. Lupin to remain quiet.

"No," replied Daniel. "I'm speaking to you more honestly than my government probably would. I know those people. I know how they think and how they operate. I understand American wizarding mentality and culture far better than any of you possibly could. I don't want to see America run the world, but we have people in both the wizarding and Muggle societies who want to see exactly that. I'm telling you how I think this could end up, if you lose."

Dumbledore listened intently, but did not respond.

"There is one more thing I wish to offer," said Daniel, "Should this war go badly for your side, you will need to get your people out of England. Find a way to get your most significant people to the United States. Provide them with portkeys to transport them to Chicago. Be assured, you will find sanctuary in wizarding America and we will put your people into deep hiding until it is safe for them to live otherwise. The reality is that we will need what your people already know about Voldemort."

"I find your last offer most reassuring, Mr. Schuler and if worse comes to worst, there will be key members of the Order whom I will encourage to avail themselves of sanctuary in the United States," said Dumbledore. "However, I cannot speak for the Ministry of Magic and cannot make commitments on our government's behalf."

"I do not expect that you will have the answers or make any kind of commitment today," replied Daniel. "Nor am I offering to support the Ministry of Magic. Support is being offered to the Order of the Phoenix. You need the opportunity to consider what I've said and evaluate this offer.

"If I may take advantage of your hospitality," he added, "I would like to speak to you privately, Professor Dumbledore."

"In that case," said the Professor, looking at McGonagall and Lupin, "Thank you all for attending this meeting."

The two stood, accepting their dismissal quite graciously. Handshakes were exchanged and they exited down the magical spiral staircase, leaving Dumbledore alone with Daniel.

"I have asked for this opportunity to speak to you privately, because I feel it is the honorable thing to do," said Daniel. "You do understand that I intend to steal your Potions Master."

"I had my suspicions about that possibility," said Dumbledore. "May I ask why?"

"I realize it cannot happen until after this war is over. Whatever hold you have on him, he is clearly one of your most important assets in this war. But, when the war is over, I intend to recruit him for Avalon College. We are planning to provide advanced classes in potions analysis and development and Severus Snape will be an excellent addition to our faculty.

"Quite honestly, he is wasted here," continued Daniel, rather dryly. "This is the man who invented the Wolfsbane potion while tinkering around in a potions lab in a high school basement. I assume he did it in between grading essays written by eleven year olds and supervising detentions of a bunch of horny teenagers.

"One of the most brilliant wizarding minds of this century is spending his time with children when he should be teaching adults and doing research. If he could invent Wolfsbane under these conditions imagine what he could do in ten years, given the resources, the time, and the kinds of students he needs to do it? I can give him something you can't."

"And what would that be?" asked Dumbledore.

"The freedom to achieve his potential. He has accomplished amazing things under difficult and limiting conditions. When I recruit him for Avalon College, he will be offered the finest in laboratory facilities, the assistance of capable adult students who hunger for what he has to teach and will be delighted to assist him in his research, and the opportunity to interact with colleagues who share his level of education and capability.

"Give him ten years, and he will revolutionize something. I don't know what it is. I don't need to know what it is. He probably already has a dozen ideas for projects he would like to start, if he just had the time and the resources. He'll come up with a new approach; develop new potions, or a whole new branch of wizarding science. He will contribute in ways we cannot predict."

Dumbledore looked at Schuler pensively. "It seems unlikely that you would have plans for Professor Snape if you had not thoroughly investigated his background."

"The key people at Avalon know he was a Death Eater in his youth," replied Daniel emphatically. "I suspect you pretty much took him by the scruff of the neck and straightened him out. I know enough about you to realize he is hardly the first person you've done this with. I also have every confidence that you wouldn't keep him around if you didn't hold his loyalty.

"Don't misunderstand me, Professor. I want you to win this war. I hope your Order of the Phoenix comes out smelling like roses and are recognized as national heroes when all is said and done. No matter what else happens, Severus Snape is always going to be viewed as the former Death Eater. No matter what else he does, no matter how many Wolfsbane potions he develops, that is always going to follow him around as long as he is in Britain."

"You will offer him a way out?" asked Dumbledore.

"In America, his Death Eater years won't haunt him the way they will in England. He won't be facing people whose family members were hurt by the Death Eaters. It won't be thrown in his face the way it probably is now.

"America is a nation of immigrants," added Daniel. "The vast majority of us were not the most successful members of society when we left our homelands or we wouldn't have left in the first place. The first generation immigrants had something they wanted to leave behind and something they very much wanted to find."

Schuler looked at Dumbledore speculatively and began again.

"You know we won't get Snape unless we offer him what he wants and needs. You won't retain him unless you can give him what he wants and needs. You own his past. I can offer him his future.

"I think I can win the bidding war, unless you play the love and loyalty card and hold him here. Maybe you needed to do that so he'd be part of this war. When this war is over, you could set him free and let him leave unencumbered or you can guilt him and hang onto him. Do you think the man deserves a shot at happiness?"

"Is that what you believe you will give him?" queried Dumbledore.

"We offer him the opportunity to seek it without a cartload of history to stand in the way. What he makes of it is his own choice and responsibility," replied Daniel.

"Mr. Schuler, I can understand why you have been so successful in the business world," said Dumbledore, amused and twinkling. "When you want something, you go after it with great intensity, a good deal of thought and considerable persuasiveness."

Daniel quirked an eyebrow. It probably was not surprising that someone of Dumbledore's capability and life experience would assess him so well.

"Thank you," he said, simply. "One last thing, Headmaster, if the worst should happen we want Severus Snape to be one of the people who escape to America."

"I shall consider that. You have given myself and my colleagues a great deal to consider," said Dumbledore. "You and I will need to communicate, but I will not trust such communication to commercial ventures. Hermione Granger can be a conduit for written messages, if you will trust her."

"I've seen no reason not to trust her and you've known her far longer than I have," replied Daniel.

"In that case, I will get back to you soon," said Dumbledore, rising.

"I will expect your response through Hermione," answered Daniel as he rose and held out his hand to Dumbledore. The two men shook hands in the manner of leaders of governments, even if those governments were unofficial.

Dumbledore escorted him out of the office and down the spiral staircase. They were coming out of the office where they were met by Margaret Schuler, who was carrying on an animated discussion with Filius Flitwick.

"It would take a building of this size to house something as advanced as the Room of Requirment," remarked Margaret as the two men joined them. "I am just amazed at the manner in which the founders were able to reconfigure space to accommodate moving the room to different locations."

"At some point, the physical boundaries of the castle puts limits on how large the room can become," Flitwick pointed out. "If it did not, the other rooms would be seriously compromised by the overlap of space. There are incidents on record where the Room of Requirement moved onto other floors and some of the rooms on those floors temporarily disappeared. The castle gave the occupants of those rooms some sort of warning so they could get out, but we do not know what it was."

"Amazing," said Margaret, "Absolutely amazing."

"Indeed it is," interrupted Dumbledore. "You must be Mrs. Schuler." Dumbledore held out his hand.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I presume?" she asked.

"I am. So what do you think of our castle?" he asked.

Margaret looked at her husband and smiled.

"Would you have any objection to my moving in here for a few years? It will take at least that long for me to really see Hogwarts and answer my several million questions about how everything works."

"I knew I'd regret bringing her here," smiled Daniel in return.

"You would hardly be the first person to be fascinated by the magic of this castle," enthused Flitwick.

Margaret smiled down at the diminutive professor.

"Filius, I would like to thank you for taking time out of your weekend to give me a tour. I really do hope I can come back some time and see more of it."

"Anytime, Margaret," answered Flitwick with a bow.

Daniel offered his wife his arm and she took it.

"Thank you again, Headmaster," said Daniel.

"You will hear from me soon," replied Dumbledore.

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Author's notes

I was not promoting smoking when I mentioned Daniel's inability to magically light Margaret's cigarettes. Smoking was considered fashionable in the 1960s and the long-term health impact was not recognized at the time. My father had lung surgery in the 1950s. The day after the surgery, his doctor handed him a cigarette and lit it for him. Since they both lived to tell the story, I presume no oxygen was being administered at the time.

Rest assured that Margaret quit smoking before she had the children.

Yes, Chicago is the Potawatami term for stinking onions. Thank you to Miss Hanes, my second grade teacher at Hearst Elementary School in Chicago, for that piece of information. I knew I'd find a chance to use that bit of trivia some day.

Dumbledore is French for _bumblebee_. According to Katja Krohn, who is translating "Looking for Magic" into German, Grindelwald could be translated into _Lockwood_. Thus, we have the prediction of the Bumblebee who would fell a Forest.

Yes, Tante Katja is named for our Katja. She's worked very hard on translating _Looking for Magic_ for German readers.

Political opinions expressed by Daniel Schuler to Albus Dumbledore reflect the political opinions of the author, so don't blame anybody else. Keep in mind that for purposes of the story, I invented the wizarding history of the relationship between Canada and the United States. I most certainly do not consider Canada to be the 51st state of the United States. Thank goodness that Canada pokes the U.S. with a stick now and then to tell our government that it is behaving like an 800 pound gorilla.

Thank you to my reviewers: KarlaMarie, Andi-Scribbles, Jocemum, Severus-Fan, t-wrecks, ChingChuan, Lucyferina, Dryade, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Delores, Crystalvoicedcamelotlady, Evilmastermind 666, Erytha, XChocolatechipX, Arime Setta, Lyndie578, SMALLwhitelies, Latinachikita, Millenia2, Starbridge, Kirien, Maxine Durchova, Darque Hart, Ami Mizuno1, Jade2099, Green-eyed-angel, Keket Amunet, KarlaMarie, Andi-Scribbles, Danielle, Jocemum, Severus-Fan, T-wrecks, JustYourAverageReviewer, Caseyff, Maddie50, KarenDetroit, Ohajikigal, Saz, Rain Today, Koliber, SEVERlyinlove, Tranquility, MollysSister, Aturia, Mugglemomof3, Droxy, Minxi, Miroku75, KKDuke, HPWylie, Duj, Notwritten, Hunter, Excessivelyperky, Me613, and Squiggles Candi (who leaves very long reviews).


	59. Chapter 59

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thanks to Julia for her amazing ability to research any detail. She discovered that Dumbledore (contrary to my recollection) is eighteenth century English for bumblebee. My faulty memory had it classified as French. I keep telling all of you this story is better for her input.

This is not your regularly scheduled posting.

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The Potions Classroom  
April 1st, 1999

In the culture of Hogwarts, it is generally expected that Slytherins will engage in sabotage and manipulation to gain advantage over rivals. Gryffindors are expected to be forthright and courageous, Hufflepuffs are friendly and loyal, and Ravenclaws are just plain smart.

What is not always recognized is a tendency among certain Ravenclaws to seek unfair advantage over others. In Slytherin, such manipulations are invariably related to garnering power. In Ravenclaw, they are usually directed towards the recognition of one's intelligence.

It is the satisfaction of getting the highest grade, of having one's essay cited as the best of the ones turned in for an assignment, or having the obscure but important piece of information at hand which can be quoted at an opportune time to save the day or at least the homework assignment. It is important that it be revealed at a time when those who hear it will realize an intellectual of high degree is among them.

It was of no surprise in Ravenclaw that Amanda Howe-Smythe and Rebecca Collingsworth would become rivals.

Of the current crop of Fourth Year students, these two are clearly the best and the brightest and very nearly evenly matched. Both are highly proficient in Transfiguration and Charms. Their scores in Ancient Runes, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts are excellent. Likewise, their grades in Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, though both classes are scorned as having limited value. Neither is much to speak of on a broom, but given their shared dislike of Quidditch and all things flying, neither would consider it a loss.

If there are any weaknesses, it must be confessed that Rebecca Collingsworth is superior in Arithmancy, while Amanda Howe-Smythe is better in Potions.

Today, their academic rivalry is not the issue. Today, in double Potions class shared with Hufflepuff, the issue is Jonathan Bentley.

In the eyes of the two ladies in question, Mr. Bentley is the most intelligent, attractive, and charming male specimen ever produced by that House. In fact, during private speculation, the two ladies have agreed that the only reason he was not sorted into Ravenclaw was his impressive loyalty to his friends. And, Mr. Bentley has many friends. Virtually everyone in Hogwarts, other than a few of the more degenerate Slytherins, would count themselves a friend of Mr. Jonathan Bentley.

Both Miss Collingsworth and Miss Howe-Smythe would like very much to be Mr. Bentley's close personal friend. Although it is the last day of class before the Easter Holidays, one can never prepare too far in advance and there is an end of school year dance being planned.

Both ladies have gone to great lengths with their hair and appearance to be attractive to the young man, as much as one can when wearing school uniforms and robes. Both have given him attention, engaged in witty conversation, and pointed out that there is one last piece of cake, which he should certainly have. Both have loaned him books, participated in group study sessions, complimented him on his wand work in Charms, and walked with him to Hogsmeade.

What neither has succeeded in doing is getting Mr. Bentley to pay more attention to one over the other. At least that was so until this morning when Mr. Bentley was the happy recipient of an owl from home, delivering a tin of his mother's delicious homemagicked chocolate raspberry biscuits.

In the spirit of generosity, Mr. Bentley opened the tin and offered samples to many of his friends around him, including Miss Howe-Smythe. He did not appear to notice Miss Collingworth standing behind her.

Miss Collingsworth was not offered a biscuit and Miss Howe-Smythe made a special point of delicately eating tiny nibbles of hers all the way down into the dungeons where she finished the last delicious crumb right outside the door to the potions classroom. She thanked Mr. Bentley profusely for his generosity in sharing such a marvelous treat.

To say that Miss Collingsworth was incensed was putting it mildly. Miss Howe-Smythe entered the classroom first at Mr. Bentley's side, followed by Miss Collingsworth. Laboratory partners for the last four years, the two ladies moved to the table which, in another year and another class, would have been occupied by Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Both sat, awaiting the arrival of Professor Snape, pointedly not speaking to each other.

The door of his office slammed behind him as Professor Snape strode into the classroom, robes fanning out behind him in high drama.

"Open your text to page 394. There you will see the formula for doxy repellent. In case any of you are uncertain as to the exact nature of a doxy, I suggest you consult with Professor Hagrid in your next Magical Creatures lesson."

"When this potion is prepared properly, a condition many of you have never truly achieved with any potion, you will find it is a highly effective repellent. If you fail in correctly identifying the nature of a doxy and use it on one of those absurd looking dogs with an exceedingly long body and short legs, it will function as a doxycide and cause great distress to your younger siblings over having killed your family pet."

Professor Snape waved his hand at the blackboard, causing a list of the ingredients to appear. "Ingredients are in the cabinet, vials are on my desk. I expect your completed work to be submitted for my inspection in one hour."

Classmates gathered at the cabinet, waiting their turns to get components for the potion. Miss Howe-Smythe made a point of handing the bottle of lacewings to Mr. Bentley, while giving Miss Collingsworth a pointed smile.

All went to their respective places and proceeded to work on their potions. Miss Collingsworth, careful to keep her feelings off her face, was still seething forty minutes later as the two young ladies stood over their cauldrons.

It occurred to Miss Collingsworth that a minor adjustment to Miss Howe-Smythe's potion might be an effective revenge. Taking up her vial of powdered dung beetle carapace, Miss Collingsworth looked to the front of the class to ascertain whether or not Professor Snape was looking. No. His head was down as he read a book, taking notes on a parchment to the side.

Miss Collingsworth looked to her right to ensure Miss Howe-Smythe was looking in the other direction. She was indeed looking away, because Miss Howe-Smythe was busy exchanging meaningful looks with Mr. Bentley.

A tip of the vial and a sprinkle of the powdered carapace falls into Miss Howe-Smythe's potion. Miss Collingsworth steps to the left. The addition of the powdered carapace to the other ingredients should result in an effervescence causing the contents of the cauldron to overflow or explode. Either of these is acceptable because it will embarrass Miss Howe-Smythe in front of Mr. Bentley and will gain her a dressing down, loss of House points, or even a detention from Professor Snape.

Unfortunately, Miss Collingsworth lacks Miss Howe-Smythe's understanding of the finer points of potions making. The expected effervescence in Miss Howe-Smythe's potion does not materialize to Miss Collingsworth's great disappointment. At the end of the hour, the potion is bottled, sealed, labeled, and sitting in the rack on Professor Snape's desk.

Inside the bottle, a single bubble of carbon dioxide forms. The amount of powdered dung beetle carapace added to the doxy repellent will result in effervescence, but not in any appreciable volume for 48 hours.

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Author's notes

Your regularly scheduled posting will be up on December 22nd. Please feel free to worry until then.

For anyone who didn't read the author's notes in the last chapter: I do not consider Canada the 51st state of the United States. As I stated previously, I am grateful that Canada pokes the U.S. government with a stick now and then when our administration is being obnoxious.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: SEVERlyinlove, Bundles-'o-joy, Keket Amunet, Rinny08, Koliber, Caseyff, Latinachikita, Duj, Notwritten, Amsev. EvilMastermind666, Rome, Ami Mizuno1, Excessivelyperky, Jade 2099, LettyBIRD, Arime Setta, Severus-Fan, Kirien, Doodles Divine, Rain Today, Lyndie 578, Likeballet, Danielle, Erytha, MuggleMomof3, T wrecks, Millenia2, MollysSister, Jocemum, HPWylie, KarenDetroit, Bluedecor, Karla Marie, JustYourAverageReviewer, Joani-the-unique-being, Ocayfine, Droxy, Lyannie, and Lucyferina (Who does not leave too many reviews. Authors will tell you there's no such thing. ;-).


	60. Chapter 60

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

This chapter was painstakingly reviewed by Julia and Jocemum, each applying their special expertise to the content, wording, grammar, and punctuation. It is far more accurate and readable for their input. Blessings upon both their houses for the coming year.

And Katja, too.

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Severus  
April 3rd, 1999

Hermione will be here at 1 pm. Albus granted my request to bring Hermione here so I might show her how to dispose of dangerous potions safely. There is a special piece of equipment I use for it that is not available in most potions labs. But, then most potions labs do not brew Cruciatus potions or other kinds of Dark potions I have made for the Dark Lord.

Given that almost all students and staff have traveled home for the Easter holiday, the castle is virtually empty. There are a handful of students, the same ones who remained here at Christmas. Professor Binns, Trelawney, and I have responsibility for them for the weekend. I intend to stay in my dungeons as much as possible. I have already spoken to the Bloody Baron about organizing the ghosts for patrols. The portraits can be relied on to keep a watchful eye on the students in residence.

This morning, Hermione was scheduled to be at headquarters making another batch of her maiden brewed fertility potion. After lunch, she will use Potter's invisibility cloak so she can arrive unseen and use the hidden entrance through the Astronomy Tower.

Perhaps by the time she arrives, I will have decided what to do about the next step in our developing relationship.

I sit at my desk in my private office. It is normally cluttered. I tend to keep whatever projects I am working on all over my desk. Unlike potions and potions ingredients, I often do not put papers away until I have completely finished with them. A small space directly in front of me is kept clear for marking, writing or reading.

Right now, my elbow occupies that space and my chin is resting on my palm. My tea has gone cold as I have spent my time contemplating the single most presenting issue in my life.

Hermione Granger.

I have not often considered the issues involved in having a relationship. Perhaps, that is because I have never really had one before. What I had with Lily was a willing capitulation to the manipulations of a pretty and intelligent girl. I was a means to make James Potter jealous and nothing more. That could hardly be described as a relationship. It was physically satisfying for both of us, but emotionally barren in any meaningful way.

"At least on Lily's part," I sigh aloud, fiddling with a parchment sticking out at an angle from the rest of the stack of Third Year essays.

I have always doubted that I would ever have a real relationship. I hardly inspire the interest of women who are seeking a winning smile and personal charm. I have never had any desire to change who and what I am just to gain the regard of a woman, even if it meant remaining alone. If anything, my temperament provided a barrier I chose to keep in place to maintain distance between myself and the women of my acquaintance. My double life has long prohibited seeking the companionship of a reputable woman.

Surely what has happened between Hermione and me meets the definition of a relationship. I believe our discussion of her cat-suit in our journals constitutes a flirtation. It is my fervent personal hope that she will present herself wearing the cat-suit with a skirt at some point during our work this week. I promised to give her an opinion about how she looks in it. That opinion should be followed by a kiss, initiated by me this time. A kiss that expresses the nature of my interest in her, so there shall be no further doubts regarding what either of us wants.

During our confrontation in the cemetery, I believed she would be furious with me and it might be the end of our friendship. Instead, she confided in me. She suggested that she had wanted to do so sooner, but was frozen with indecision. She kissed me before she left.

Her journal entries since that evening show no sign of Hermione being angry with me. If anything, she has been writing in ways that convey warmth and regard. A warmth and regard I certainly return.

That is the beginning of a relationship by anyone's definition.

My head rises from my palm and I nod to myself in agreement. Hermione and I have a relationship. A relationship I wish to pursue with the possibility of Claiming when the war is over.

"Assuming I survive," I snort in derision.

I must desist talking to myself. That is the sort of thing that can get a spy in trouble.

We have the next week for her spring break, even though classes resume at Hogwarts mid-week. I plan to foist off all detentions and the first shifts of patrols on Filch so that my evenings will be free. Hermione and I will work, share conversation, and simply be together.

I have a full week ahead to develop what exists between us. At some point, I will most certainly kiss her. More than once. Beyond that, I may find myself trying to keep my hands off of her. Not, I assume, that she wants my hands off of her. I know with a man's certainty that if I were to press the advantage, I could have her. She would welcome my hands and would like to please me in return.

I cannot help but smile as I think of Hermione's enthusiasm for learning anything new. She would apply the intensity she gives to mastering Wolfsbane to learning the techniques of physical pleasure. She would be willing and eager to learn all the ways she could please me with her body and to experience the pleasure I can give her.

I shake my head in regret. This must not be, at least not right now. A proper Claiming would not permit such a thing. If I survive this war, I want to Claim her with all the trappings of Pureblood society. I will declare my respect for her and my honorable intentions in a manner recognized by all. If anyone doubts the truth of my role as a spy for the Order, Claiming a Muggleborn will demonstrate my true opinions about the superiority of Pureblood lines and my utter lack of acceptance of the Dark Lord's teachings.

At the same time, I must consider the realities of our situation in the here and now. I am so much older than she is and possess a world of experience she does not. It is my responsibility to see the long-term implications of what we do.

I already have a pensieve full of memories I do not want the Dark Lord to see. My mental dungeon room holds shelves full of potions bottles containing memories from which I have removed the emotions so they will not attract his notice. I cannot bring myself to put all of my emotional memories of Hermione out of my reach and recollection. They bring a meaning to my life I have never known before.

As skilled an Occlumens as I might be, I cannot rely on Occlumency to keep the Dark Voyeur away from the most vivid memories. I will not let him see the image of her in the cat-suit she wore in the water, fitting her like second skin. Or the touches, the brief contact of her hand against my skin.

If he knew any of it, I would be marked for death. He would command me to bring him Potter's friend and I would die before I would do it.

It is entirely possible her feelings for me are situational, born of stress, all of the changes in her life, sentiment born of our close association because of these projects, and the commonality of parents lost to violence.

If this war concludes and I survive, she could easily reconsider her choices and move on. If she is light, then I am dark. She could choose someone who is not tainted, not troubled by the images of their own deeds, not ruled by regret.

If she would accept Claiming, it would give us time to discover if we are sufficiently compatible to make a true commitment.

I have made my decision. We will talk tonight. I will explain that we must keep limits in place. We must not do anything I cannot be absolutely certain I can hide from Voldemort's view. Anything else is too dangerous. If I survive this war, there may be other possibilities, but not now.

Hermione should be here soon. We will work and we will talk. I pick up my quill and return to marking essays.

-------------------------------

It is early afternoon and I hear the sound of her footsteps in the classroom. I have set the wards to admit her and rise from the desk to greet her.

"Severus?"

"Here, Hermione."

I meet her in the doorway. Her eyes are shining and I can see she is happy to see me.

After our encounter in the cemetery and the journal entries that have followed, I believe if I opened my arms she would rush into them. There is a part of me that would like that very much, followed by a quick shag on my desk.

No. I wouldn't do that yet; I would give her a slow seduction in my bed, which is only four doors and a hallway away from here.

Resisting the temptation to sigh, I remember my resolution to treat her with the honor and respect due a woman one is considering Claiming and push down the impulse.

"We have much to do and not enough time in which to do it," I tell her. "We will start with the destruction of the Crucio potions and then I will show you the references I have found regarding wizarding addiction. Perhaps we can identify where to start this afternoon. Will you be able to stay this evening?"

"I told Arthur and Molly I wouldn't be home for dinner, that you and I were going to do research here," she replies.

"Albus has left us some of his books to go through as well. We should be busy."

"I know. Shall I go into the storage room and get the Crucio potions?" She looks up and smiles warmly. My heart jumps at her smile.

"Go ahead and I will join you in a few minutes. The potions are in the secured red cabinet and the password is _Paracelsus_."

Hermione nods and walks to the storage room. The wards recognize her and she enters.

A minute passes and I put away the essays. I hear the sound of exploding glass followed by her scream. I freeze for an instant and then move.

She is still screaming as I fly in through the door of the storage room. There is a crunch of glass beneath my feet and I see Hermione laying on the floor writhing and crying out in agony. There is glass on the floor and cuts on her face and hands. There are greenish and brown splatters on her face, clothing and hands, as well as on the floor around her.

I must know what happened before I can help her. I feel the adrenaline rush before I can clamp down the fear. This room is full of killing agents. I smell lace wings. My dragonhide boots will keep out anything except the strongest caustics, but not the rest of my clothing. I have to figure out what has done this.

Merlin help me, what hit her? What happened? I crouch beside her. She must keep still.

"Hermione, I know it hurts, but you must hold still. There is glass all around you. I need to know what exploded."

She is pulling herself into the fetal position, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. There is blood on the left side of her face, but not on the right. She is making a keening noise, a high pitched wail of pain.

"It burns, oh god it hurts." She can barely get the words out. She is starting to spasm.

Look to the left. See what exploded. The counter on the left, the doxy repellent. Brown glass on the floor, spilled liquid. That is it. The smell of lacewings. The vials, the doxy repellent, most of them are broken.

"_Evanesco_ doxy repellent." The brown glass disappears along with the liquid. I drop to my knees beside her and reach to grasp her hands. Her left hand is red and blistered. There is blood from cuts.

Wait, there is blue glass on the floor, too. On the left, I spot the cabinet door above the rack of doxy repellent. I realize what else must be on Hermione's skin.

_The Cruciatus potions_.

That is what this is; this is not just chemical burns from the doxy repellent.

I am horrified. These are spasms from Crucio.

Which one? I am on my feet shouting the password, throw open the cabinet, my hands turning bottles, reading labels. Which one is missing? _Which is missing?_ Lucrezia Borgia's topical Crucio. Hermione must have been holding it. That has to be it.

Somehow the doxy repellent exploded and broke the topical Crucio bottle. I know what to do. A few more words and the shards of blue glass vanish.

I roar a password and trigger the wards to alert the hospital wing. "Winky or whoever is on duty, I need you in the potions storeroom. _NOW!" _

The content of the doxy repellent combined with the caustic agents in the Crucio topical potion can eat right through clothing to her skin.

"Hermione, I must get you out of your clothes, the caustics are eating right through them. _Divestio robes_."

Her outer garments disappear, leaving her in her undergarments. I am on the floor beside her, looking for burns. "Hermione, I know it hurts if I touch you, but I have to look."

Another wave of pain hits from the Crucio. She screams as I turn her so I can see her left side.

"Professor Snape?" Winky has arrived. The elf looks frightened and is wringing her hands as she sees Hermione writhing on the floor.

"Winky, Miss Granger has been injured. I need help and I know Madame Pomfrey has left for the holiday. Please summon the Headmaster for me."

The house elf twitched. "Headmaster is gone to London for the evening."

"Then, please go and summon Professor McGonagall for me."

Winky twitches again and disappears.

I turn back to Hermione. There is a hole in the fabric of her bra over her left breast. It has eaten right through to her skin. There goes my last hope of preserving her modesty.

"_Divestio,"_ and her undergarments are gone.

Hermione is naked, whimpering in the fetal position on the stone floor of the storeroom as she spasms with Crucio. She has chemical burns and cuts on the left side of her face, lacerations and burns on her left hand and forearm, a burn on her left breast, and down her abdomen to her left hip.

I pull a handkerchief out of my robes and enlarge it until it is the size of a sheet. I cover Hermione's body with it. Another wave of Crucio hits her and she screams, twisting under the sheet.

I stand and reach into the cabinet and withdraw the potions I need, dropping all but one in my pocket, next grabbing a handful of latex gloves from the dispenser. I am back down beside her, holding her head up.

"Hermione, you have to drink this. It is the internal Crucio potion and will help with the pain." She is not responding. The Crucio has advanced to the point where everything is pain. I grasp her chin and pull it down to open her mouth. I dribble the potion into her mouth. She chokes and then swallows.

Winky is standing in the doorway, wringing her hands. "Professor McGonagall is visiting her nephew in Edinburgh, Professor Snape."

"I have run out of alternatives and must require you to assist me, Winky. I need you to prepare the bath in my chambers. Miss Granger has chemical burns and has been sprayed with a potion causing Crucio pain. I need to get her into a cold bath to use an experimental treatment. Set the temperature for seventy degrees."

Trelawney would be less than useless for this. I must make do with the resources I have available and a house-elf appears to be it.

"Winky goes now, Professor," and she disappears.

I lay Hermione's head down and stand. She has curled back into the fetal position, her body in spasms, giving little cries of pain. I levitate her off the floor and move her down the hallway to my chambers.

Good thinking, Winky has the door standing open. We move through my sitting room, the bedroom, and into the bathroom. Winky is in there.

Wait, I need to get in the water with her. Hermione wore that one piece thing to keep the potion and cold water off her skin...

Shit.

The other times I have provided treatment, I stayed out of the water and let Hermione or Potter do it while I adjusted the water temperature, took readings, and supervised.

I groan, realizing that I have no choice.

"Accio Minerva's gift".

I hear a drawer in my dresser open and Minerva's gift flies into the bathroom. I catch it in my left hand and grimace.

"Winky, can you levitate Miss Granger for me? Keep her over the water, but do not lower her in until I can get in the bath."

Hermione seems to be quieting down to whimpers as she shakes in pain. The oral antidote must be starting to take effect.

"Winky is pleased to help Professor and Miss Granger. Winky keep Miss Granger right where she is?" Winky points her bony finger and takes over the levitation.

I would be pleased if Winky would shut up.

A bit of magic and I am now wearing Minerva's gift, my socks, and snapping on the latex gloves. The warming and waterproofing charms in place, I lean over the bath and pour in the external antidote. I set the current in the tub to stir the water and step down into the water. I move down to the deepest part of the tub and hold out my arms.

"Lower her in, if you please."

The sheet touches my arms first, then her bare skin. I have her and lower her into the water. Slowly. The cold water startles her and she struggles. "Hermione, it is all right. You are in my bath and the water is cold so the antidote can work."

She is in the water, turning towards me, trying to cling to me. I lower my voice. "Hermione, you must stop struggling. You must let the water get to your skin for it to work. Hermione, open your eyes and look at me." She is quieter and her breathing is less frantic. "Hermione, look at me."

Hermione's head is turning towards me, grimacing with pain. Her eyes open, squinting as she moans; "Bright, hurts, too bright."

"Winky, reduce the flames in sconces by half." I know all too well how the head and facial pain from Crucio makes light intolerable. "Hermione, I need to take away the sheet. The water has to get to your skin." She has opened her eyes again. "Do you remember what happened?"

Hermione shudders and I can barely hear her whimpered response. "The topical Cruciatus. I was holding it. Something blew up."

"That is why your hand is burned and cut. A bottle of the doxy repellent exploded."

Hermione is attempting to curl up into the fetal position again. I cannot allow her to do so.

"Winky, summon the sheet, but do not take it out of the water. It will spray the water and the potion must not get on your skin or mine."

The sheet is pulling down, revealing Hermione as she is trying to pull her limbs together to hold off the cold. Her back arches as a wave of Crucio pours itself through her nerves. She's screaming and thrashing. Her head is thrown back and she risks getting water in her mouth. I pull her up and out of the water just for a moment. She is writhing and trying to curl against me at the same time.

"Hermione, remember what I told you. Take yourself somewhere else. Your body is here, but your mind can travel somewhere safe, somewhere far away from pain. Just breathe. Slow down your breathing. Just breathe rhythmically in and out, in and out. Let go. Let yourself float away."

I carefully lower her back into the water and watch as she struggles to calm her panicked responses to excruciating pain.

Merlin, thank you. She has slowed her breathing. She is not fighting against the pain, making it worse for herself. Her muscles are relaxing and she is going limp. The cold water and the antidote are working. Her eyes are closed and she is quieting.

I look down and realize I am looking at a naked Hermione. Most specifically, at her breasts. Now that her breathing has slowed, and she is back in the water, they rise and fall in the water so the nipples rise above the water line and then dip below. Her nipples are erect in the cold water, a delicate rose pink against the rest of her breast. Her skin is white with the cold and I can see the shadow of blue veins.

The bare skin of her back and hips rest against my arms.

There is a faint line of a curse scar from her shoulder, across her left breast, and to her abdomen. A gift from Dolohov during the raid on the Ministry and another reason why I should kill him.

Her breasts are nicely rounded and one would fill my hand perfectly. I am altogether too aware that her bare skin is resting against my arms in the water.

Erm. This will not do. I am taking advantage of her by enjoying her nudity in a situation where it is most inappropriate.

Winky is standing at the edge of the bath. I will need her help.

"Winky, I need something for Miss Granger to wear in the water and I will need you to keep her buoyant, just as she is now, while I summon my wand and transfigure something for her. Can you do that for me?"

"Winky can make Miss Granger float like she is now if she doesn't wiggle," answers the elf reluctantly.

"If she wiggles, I will take over again," I assure her. "Go ahead and make her float."

Winky points one of her long bony fingers at Hermione and I feel a lifting of her weight off my arms. I slowly remove my arms from under her. I don't want to startle her. My right hand is free.

"Accio wand." My ebony wand flies into my hand.

"Accio towel." The linen closet opens and a towel flies out and into my other hand.

Shit.

I should have done the burn salve first.

Well, it would hardly look good to the elf if I started fondling Hermione's breast and abdomen in an effort to apply salve. It will have to wait till later. Perhaps I should have Winky do it after Hermione is in bed.

I take the towel and put it in the water, lengthening and widening it so I can wrap it around Hermione's torso and hips. I bring it up under her and move her left arm away from her body so I can bring the towel up over her. Then I move her other arm and bring up the other side.

I have one last glimpse of her lovely breasts and then they are covered. Another charm and the towel seals itself so it cannot fall off. I put my arms back under her and Winky releases her levitation.

It has been about five minutes in the water with the water dropping steadily towards sixty degrees. Five more minutes and she should be free of pain. She still has mild tremoring, but she is relaxing in the water and not crying out.

Her hair looks lovely like this. It is floating in the water, spread out around her face. The clips she was wearing in her hair have fallen out and are somewhere at the bottom of the bath.

It has been seven minutes. She is no longer tremoring and she seems relaxed with no sign of pain. She should be waking from the muscle relaxant induced doze she is in and then she will feel the cold. There are still cuts on her face, hand, and body from the exploding glass that must be treated.

"Winky, would you get my bed ready for Miss Granger? Get out one of my nightshirts, one of the nice ones for her? They are in the third drawer down in the chest of drawers."

"I will, Professor. Winky gets burn cream, too."

"Good idea, Winky."

The house-elf leaves to do the tasks I have requested.

Hermione shifts in the water and slowly opens her eyes. She gives me a sleepy smile. Her eyes open wider and she gives me a surprised smile.

Shit.

Minerva's gift.

"Severus," she says with a sleepy hint of mischief in her eyes, "There are snakes winking at me from your shirt."

"Please ignore them," I request. I try not to whine.

"Am I hallucinating or are they dancing and winking?"

"You are not hallucinating," I groan, "I wish you were. This is Minerva's idea of a birthday gift."

Hermione is feeling the cold. Her teeth are starting to chatter.

"Minerva gave you dancing snake long-johns?"

"Layered with charms upon charms upon charms, the worst of which is that I cannot throw them away or destroy them without all of my undergarments turning into bizarrely decorated long-johns."

It is worth the embarrassment to see her smile as she shivers in the cold water. "I have never worn them before and would be very grateful if you would forget you ever saw them."

I pull her a little closer to me.

"How is the pain?"

"Gone. I'm just cold, now," she answers, shivering.

"It is almost ten minutes. I will take you out of the water, now."

I call for Winky and she appears instantly.

"The bed is ready, Professor sir. Got night shirt, think Miss Granger need pajama bottoms and socks for cold," she says.

"Good idea," I tell her. "Can you lift her out of the water and I will cast a drying charm."

"I takes Miss Granger now," says Winky. She raises her arm and points.

I feel Hermione lifting up and I back off to keep the water from splattering my face. I am surprised at how long her hair is when it is wet and straight from the weight of the water. Her bare legs are shapely and I am tempted to look beneath the towel as the water weights it down. The curve of her buttocks….

I have to stop this. I cast the drying charm and Winky levitates Hermione out of the bath.

Once Hermione is out of the bathroom, I magically change out of the snake-bedecked long-johns and into my robes. A little more magic and the water in the bath is replaced with fresh. I open the door to the bedroom just enough to inquire as to Hermione's status.

"Miss Granger decent, Professor," answers Winky.

I walk into the bedroom. Hermione is in my bed. She is lying on her side facing me with blankets up to her shoulders. I will not let myself dwell on the notion that Hermione is in my bed and wearing my nightwear along with a pair of my socks.

I hold my wand over Hermione and take readings. Her blood pressure is lower than it should be.

"How do you feel?"

"Cold," she answers. I can see her shivering. "No pain," she adds.

"Winky, please bring tea for Miss Granger," I instruct.

"After the treatment, I was chilly for days," I remind her. "The only time I was warm was in the classroom with a dozen simmering cauldrons or with a warming charm. Would you like me to cast one for you?"

"Please," chatters Hermione. "I'm freezing."

I draw the rune Kenaz with my wand and whisper; "_Tepidus_."

I feel a bit of warmth off the charm and look down at Hermione. The look on her face changes from chilled discomfort to horror. Hermione screams in agony and starts pushing off the blankets.

I panic and reach down to her.

"Hermione, what is wrong?" I realize I am shouting at her.

"Fire. I'm on fire." She claws at her face. "MAKE IT STOP!!!" she screams.

"_Finite Incantatum_."

It has to be the warming charm.

The warming charm is gone. Hermione whimpers and collapses back onto the bed. She is weeping and shaking. The hell with propriety. I sit on the bed beside her and gather her up in my arms. I hold her as close as I can and she clings to me in terror.

"What happened?" I am faking calm remarkably well.

"You did the Tepidus," Hermione whimpers into my neck. She is hiding her face against me and I am stroking her hair, anything to comfort her. "I felt like I was burning." She is shivering again. "The fire was inside me, on my skin, everywhere."

I tighten my arms around her.

"It stopped as soon as you Finite'd the charm," she says. Hermione is now shivering violently. "Now I'm freezing again."

I pull the blankets up around both of us to try and keep her warm. She is shivering so badly the mattress is shaking. The implications of this are not good. I believe I know what is happening here.

I try to calm her.

"Hermione, I believe there is something in the Cruciatus potion or the combination of the Cruciatus potion and the menthols in the treatment that is keeping your neural receptors wide open and flooding your central nervous system. That is why you are cold. When I used magic to warm you, the warmth overwhelmed the cold messages and felt like fire."

Hermione clutches my arms underneath the blankets and raises her head to look at me.

"It's affected my magic, Severus." I can hardly understand what she is saying, her teeth are chattering so hard. She slips one hand outside the blanket and it is shaking badly.

"_Accio wand_," says Hermione, clearly this time.

Nothing happens.

"_Accio wand_," she repeats.

Again, nothing.

"Summon my wand for me," she asks.

I loose my arm from around her and put my hand outside of the blanket.

"_Accio _Hermione's wand."

Her wand flies into my hand from the table where Winky left it. I place it into her shaking hand.

The look on Hermione's face is of fierce concentration.

"_Lumos_," she says.

Nothing happens.

"Lumos," she repeats, her voice weaker this time.

Again, nothing. Her hand is shaking too hard to hold onto the wand now. She lets it go and it falls on the bed. She brings her arm inside the blanket and clings to me again, desperately seeking warmth.

"It could be something in the Crucio potion," I tell her, "Something affecting your magic."

I think. How do I get it out of her?

"I will get you back into the water. I did not think about the possibility that you might have some of the potion left on your skin, in the cuts. I, I should have bathed you." I whisper the last part. "I should have washed it off of you. There is Blood Purifying potion. I can get it out of your system."

I am doing my best to keep all the fear I am feeling out of my voice. This is bad.

She lifts her trembling hands from under the blankets and reaches up to hold my face. She is looking in my eyes.

"No." She looks at me intensely. "No. We have to find out what it is. The weapon. We need the weapon."

"Too dangerous," I tell her with hushed urgency, "I do not have a potion to remove only one ingredient at a time, not for these ingredients."

Her hands go back under the blanket. She wraps herself around me again. She buries her head against me. "We can wait for a little while. Get help. Maybe a charm?"

I can buy time. Where's Winky? Where the hell is that elf with the tea?

I need to trigger the emergency wards to get the elves here. I grab my wand and hurl an exploding hex against the wall, followed by another charm to contain it. It was enough to trigger the wards.

In an instant, I have half a dozen nervously chattering house-elves and the Bloody Baron in my bedroom. Winky stands at the front of the phalanx.

"Silence," I command.

They quiet instantly. The Baron comes closer, his silvery face looking rather surprised by the scene before him.

"Miss Granger is injured from a potions accident. She cannot get warm and no one may use magic to warm her without doing her further injury. I need two of you elves to send an emergency summons to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall."

I turn my head to the Baron.

"Baron," I request, "Could you ask the ghosts to look about the grounds for their arrival, should they choose to apparate? Direct them here immediately."

"I shall, indeed," replies the Baron, his spectral voice echoing eerily in my dungeon bedroom. He vanishes through the wall.

I turn my attention back to the elves.

"In case they floo into the castle, wait for them in the Headmaster's office and send them here just as soon as one of them arrives."

An interim plan forms in my mind.

"I need another of you to bring blankets, a lot of them, into my sitting room. Layer them on the floor in front of the fireplace. Build up the fire as much as you can without endangering anyone who floos in. Get going, _now_."

The elves scatter and half wink out. I can hear Winky issuing orders to the others

There is noise in the sitting room as the elves bring blankets from wherever it is they keep them.

"Hermione," I whisper into her hair. "I am going to take you into the sitting room. We are going to lie down in front of the fireplace. It is the warmest place in my quarters. Can you put your arms around my neck?"

She is shivering too much to talk. I can feel her shaking arms moving around my shoulders. I keep the blankets wrapped around her as much as I can as I pick her up. I carry her into the sitting room where it feels ten degrees warmer than in the bedroom. There is a stack of a dozen or so blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace. A little too close.

"Winky, I need you to pull the blankets back so that someone can step out of the fireplace without stepping on Hermione."

Winky complies. She sends a young house-elf to get the pillows and the quilts off my bed.

I carefully drop to my knees and lay Hermione down on the layers of blankets. She is holding onto my shirt, shivering and murmuring incoherently. I have placed her on the side close to the fireplace where it is warmest. I lie down next to her and pull her close to me. Moving my wand over her, I check her blood pressure.

It is too low. Uncomfortably so. I signal Winky to put the quilts and the rest of the blankets over us.

"Winky, I want you to stay here. Send the others out to look for the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall."

I am not listening as she issues orders to the other elves. I am busy pulling Hermione as close as I can. I put my leg over hers and draw her head against me. I set my wand to do continual readings of Hermione's blood pressure.

If it drops too low, she goes back in the water to wash away whatever potion residue is on her skin and I shall give her the blood purifier. The hell with the weapon, we will find another way.

I pull the blankets higher so the back of her head is covered. Only the top of her head is sticking out and she has buried her face against my neck. Hermione is quieting, still shivering. Can a person sleep and shiver at the same time?

She is breathing rhythmically. I can feel her shivering, but not as strongly. Perhaps my body heat and the warmth from the fireplace are working. She is dozing. I check her blood pressure and it is lower than before.

If help is not here in half an hour, she will go back in the water and I will administer the blood cleanser. Hermione shifts her leg and it is pressing up against me in a sensitive spot.

Oh my. When she shivers….

I shift my position to diminish contact. The last thing I need is to wind up with a hard-on while holding a semiconscious Hermione with Winky watching us from the chair and Albus or Minerva about to walk in.

I know it is no more than fifteen minutes, but it seems hours. The fire turns green and Minerva steps through the fireplace.

"I came as quickly as I could, Severus." Minerva is looking at me with a good deal of astonishment. She has never come into my quarters and found me lying on the floor wrapped around a woman before, let alone a former student. I suppose this is an unusual occurrence.

"What happened to Hermione?"

"It is not what it looks like."

"I did not think it was. If it were what it looks like, I am certain Winky would not be here and you could have picked a more comfortable location than the floor."

Minerva bends over the two of us. "I received the alert a few minutes ago and flooed back here as quickly as I could. One of the elves told me there was a potions accident."

"There is a Fourth Year student who will be dead after the holiday," I say this rather fiercely and I am more serious than Minerva might want to believe. "A bottle of doxy repellent exploded while Hermione was in the storage room. She was holding the topical Crucio potion at the time."

Minerva grimaces, "Mercy, Severus. I presume you did the cold immersion treatment?"

"With Winky's help," I reply, figuring I had best clarify things right from the start to preserve my hide. "It worked on the pain, but in this case, there are serious side effects. I believe Hermione's neural pathways are wide open and flooded with cold messages. You can see that she is shivering from the cold in spite of all the blankets, the fireplace, and body heat. In addition, her blood pressure is too low and still dropping. The only reason she is not back in the bath and I have not given her a Blood Cleansing potion to get the foreign substances out of her system is that one of them has caused her to be unable to use magic."

Minerva's astonished expression tells me she comprehends the significance of the last part.

"You want to determine which of the substances is causing this?"

"I have been going over the properties of each ingredient in my head. I believe the two most likely culprits are the acromantula venom or the dragon's firebladder extract. Unless it is an interaction between two of the multitudinous ingredients in the doxy repellent, Cruciatus topical potion, and internal Cruciatus treatment, in which case only trial and error in a laboratory will tell. I won't be able to tell if it is one of the two if I use a blood cleanser and Hermione insisted on being the laboratory rat in this experiment."

I regret letting her talk me into this. She is in more danger than I understood even half an hour ago.

"We cannot use magic to provide her with warmth. It makes her feel like her body is on fire. I know, I tried. I need Poppy here and someone to figure out what charm to use."

"Filius is in Czechoslovakia visiting family. I will summon Bill," says Minerva urgently, "And all the Weasleys I can find to provide body heat."

"In Albus' absence, could you talk to the castle about installing a fireplace in my bedroom and in the bathroom? The castle uses magic in there for heating."

"Right away. I will floo back to Albus' office and make the arrangements."

Minerva steps back into the fireplace and disappears in a flash of green flame.

"Winky, I need you to get my bed ready again. As soon as the Weasleys arrive, I need to get Hermione back into bed."

"Yes, Professor sir." Winky disappears into the bedroom.

I check Hermione's blood pressure. It has not changed from the last reading. I shift my head and look down at her. Her eyes are closed and she is asleep in spite of shivering. I want nothing more in this moment than to hold her while we wait.

The green flame shoots up and Bill Weasley comes through the fireplace. He looks at me with a worried look that disappears in a grin.

"Minerva told me what happened. I know it isn't funny, Severus, but if you could see yourself right now wrapped around Hermione…. "

The grin vanishes and Bill continues.

"Minerva said to tell you she has reached Poppy, who is on her way. The rest of the family will be here shortly. Why don't we get Hermione back into the bedroom so Mum can take over body heat duty and Dad won't feel compelled to challenge you to a duel for Hermione's honor. You'd wipe the floor with my father and I'm rather attached to him."

"Believe me, Bill, there has been nothing in this situation conducive to taking anyone's virtue." I reply. "We need a charm to remove acromantula venom and miniature Swedish short snout firebladder extract from Hermione's skin."

Winky chooses this moment to announce the bed is ready.

I begin to extract myself from Hermione's grasp. She moans and starts to wake. Her eyes open and she is wracked with another fit of shaking with cold. I pull her against me again.

"This will not work. We need to wait until your parents are here and keep her where she is."

There is a sound of stones grinding in the bedroom. Bill whips out his wand and rushes to investigate. I believe a fireplace has just formed into the wall of the bedroom. The bathroom should be next.

Green flames shoot up in the fireplace again and Poppy steps through. She looks down at Hermione and me and kneels down beside her.

"It is all right, Severus. Minerva warned me about how you are trying to keep Hermione warm. No magic, correct?" Poppy's wand is working the whole time as she takes one reading after another.

More green flames and Arthur steps through followed by Molly.

They see Poppy on the floor next to what looks like my love nest with their adopted daughter in it and do not kill me.

Merlin, thank you for letting Poppy arrive before they did.

In a quick move belying her ample figure, Molly is on the floor next to me.

"Oh, Severus, how is she?" asks Molly in full mother mode.

Poppy answers for me and Arthur crouches beside Molly to listen. "Her blood pressure is too low and she needs to be detoxified. The complication is that there is a very good chance that either the acromantula venom or the firebladder extract in her system is causing her nervous system to send messages to her brain that she is freezing cold in spite of being in a warm environment. Her body temperature is lower than it should be if this were only an effect on her nervous system."

I take over the explanation. "We could treat this with a Blood Cleansing potion, except that one of those two ingredients is probably causing Hermione to be unable to use magic."

Arthur whistles in recognition.

"We could have our weapon here."

"That is why Hermione would not agree to the use of the Blood Cleansing potion without first trying to determine which of the ingredients causes loss of magic."

"So how do we find this out?" asks Arthur.

"That is the difficult part," I reply.

"While the lot of you figures that out, I will take over here with Hermione," says Molly. "Poppy, do you think we can get her to a bed?"

The fireplace glows green again and Minerva returns.

"Probably not, yet. Let me wake her," says Poppy.

"No magic," I remind her.

"Goodness," she says, "I cannot imagine what an _Ennervate_ would do to her right now. We must be very careful."

She leans over Hermione and puts her hand on her shoulder beneath the blanket.

"Hermione, I want you to wake up now." Poppy can feel Hermione shivering with cold that should not be possible in the warmth of my arms and with the fireplace so near.

Hermione shifts and buries herself deeper in the blankets.

"Severus," says Poppy, "I think you will need to pull away from Hermione and let Molly get under the blankets with her."

I comply and let go of Hermione to try and move away.

"No," she pleads, so quietly I can barely hear her. She tries to hold onto me.

"It is all right, Hermione," I tell her softly, "Molly is going to lie down next to you while I work with Bill on a charm."

"I'm afraid. Don't leave," she whispers, her teeth chattering as she becomes aware of cold again. I can tell her earlier bravado about the necessity of finding the source of the problem is fading away in the reality of feeling icy cold and being desperately ill.

"I will be nearby working on your treatment. I will not leave," I tell her, hoping the others do not hear me. "Molly and Poppy are going to take care of you."

Hermione looks up at me. I am left breathless at the look of absolute trust in her eyes. She releases the hold she has on my shirt. I cannot stop myself from reaching up and brushing her hair back. I do not want to leave her and know that I must.

I pull my arm out from under her and scoot out from under the blankets onto the stone floor. I move back and sit up so I can get to my knees. Molly steps in front of me and kneels again. Poppy pulls back the blankets and Molly climbs underneath and draws Hermione's head against her ample bosom. Poppy covers both of them. I take one last look. Hermione has closed her eyes and is shivering against Molly. Poppy pats Molly on the arm and rises.

"We need to talk, Severus," she whispers.

I signal Minerva and Bill who are standing back by the sofa. Arthur is already beside me. The five of us walk back towards the bedroom where we can talk without being overheard by Hermione.

"Whatever we are going to do, we need to do it quickly," says Poppy. "Hermione's blood pressure is much too low. If it drops by five more points, we stop whatever we are doing and get her on the Blood Cleansing potion. We are risking her life by waiting."

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and a wave of fear passes through me.

This is not the time for that. I must distance myself from my feelings. I draw on disciplines that have seen me through duels, through mind-breaking probes from Voldemort himself, and draw the resources I need to deal with this in cold clarity.

"First," I tell them, "when I treated Hermione with the cold immersion, I failed to completely remove the potions from her skin. It would have required bathing her and for some reason, I did not think of it at the time."

I notice that Arthur's breathing has picked up and he is reacting like a father who has just realized that a man of questionable repute saw his daughter naked and helpless.

"A point of clarification," I add hurriedly, "Winky, the house-elf assigned to the hospital wing, was present the whole time and I transfigured a towel to preserve Hermione's modesty."

The look on Arthur's face has softened a bit.

"Second, the Cruciatus potion is intended to be topical and was absorbed through her skin and the cuts from the broken glass. The immediate effect of Crucio pain and spasms was apparent. Winky and I administered the internal and external treatments. The pain and spasms were gone after about ten minutes in the water. Winky dressed her and put her into my bed."

"Hermione was awake and aware at that point," I continue. "She complained of being cold, so I used a warming charm. Her reaction was immediate and I did _Finite Incantatum_ to end the charm. She said it felt like her body was on fire, inside and out. That is when I realized that the Cruciatus potion caused her neural network to flood her brain with messages of extreme cold from the menthols in the internal and external treatment potions."

I look around and everyone seems to be following my explanation.

"Third. Hermione said she did not believe she could use magic. She tried to summon her wand and could not. I summoned it for her and she tried _Lumos_ and it did not work. I believe something in the Cruciatus potion makes it impossible for her to use magic. It is most likely either the acromantula venom or the firebladder extract from a miniature Swedish short snout. To determine which it is requires getting them off her skin separately and having her try magic."

"Will it be enough to get if off her skin? How about what's got into her internally?" asks Bill.

"Impossible to know," I tell him, "It may not be enough, but we can try. There is no time for me to brew a potion tailored to each of them. We need a charm."

"I don't know if a charm can do it alone," said Bill. "We might need a carrier and a charm."

"On top of that, it must be a carrier and a charm that will not trigger a message of temperature in her neural system," adds Poppy.

"A carrier?" asks Arthur. "Forgive me, but it has been at least thirty years since my last Potions lesson."

"A neutral base to hold a charm or other potion ingredients without impacting their effectiveness," I explain.

Arthur scratches his head and looks at Bill.

"Isn't that what Fred and George's Goo is?"

"Goo?" Poppy, Minerva, and I manage to say it simultaneously.

Bill answers. "The other night when Fred and George came to the Burrow for dinner, they talked about something they call Goo. They're planning to use it to hold a charm or a potion or something. It's supposed to coat the whole person when they get it on him."

"Have the twins made any of this?" I ask.

"I think so," says Arthur. "Should I go and get them?"

"Dad, have them bring as much of it as they have," says Bill. "A bucketful would be good."

"I will go with you to Albus' office to let you floo from there," says Minerva.

The two of them depart.

"What external carriers do you have at hand, Severus?" asks Poppy.

"Four or five already prepared. I must check my stock, but I believe I have a lotion base, two clear liquids, a powder, and petroleum jelly. They are intended as potions bases. The petroleum jelly is not an option because of the chemical burns. I would have to add something to each to enable it to carry a charm."

"What about this Goo?"

"Until I see it and learn what is in it, we should not assume it is usable for this purpose.

"Then we'd best get to work," says Bill. "What charm can we use or do we need to invent something?"

-------------------------

The tables and chairs in the sitting room are occupied by either a person, a stack of books, or parchments. Bill, Minerva, and I are scanning through modern and ancient texts looking for a charm that will allow a single substance to be removed from the skin.

It is like looking by hand for a needle in a haystack. We are no longer looking for a specific charm; we are looking for something we can modify to our purposes.

Hermione and Molly are still lying on the floor in front of the fireplace. Poppy has been checking her blood pressure every few minutes and it seems to be stable at four or five points above Poppy's defined crisis point. Her body temperature is stable at 96.9 degrees. Hermione is still dozing in Molly's arms. Poppy and I are in wordless agreement that this half-asleep state is her best option. When she is wide-awake, she is literally shaking with cold no matter how warm we try to keep her.

The fireplace burns bright green and Arthur steps through, followed by his twin sons. One of them, Fred, I believe it is, is carrying a lidded bucket by the handle.

"You requested some of our Goo, Professor?" he says, holding up the bucket.

Minerva clears off space on the table. Fred sets down the bucket and pries open the lid. Inside is a clear gel of some sort.

George launches into an explanation.

"Dad filled us in on what happened with Hermione and what you're trying to do. If you need a carrier for a charm, this might be what you need."

Fred takes over.

"We used the standard base liquid and added just a smidge of creodoc pod essence to it, which gives it this gel texture.

"Creodoc?" I question. "It is your intent that this base literally coat the person it is used on?

"From top to bottom, Professor, except for eyes, nostrils, mouth, inside the ears, and sensitive bits." says George. "We intended to use it to hold a charm to glamour the person who uses it so they look like a famous person for one half hour. We had already started talking about licensing with Celestina Warbeck's agent, the drummer from the Weird Sisters, and a couple of others."

"Problem is, as was pointed out by our baby brother Ron, who's got this law-abiding attitude since he started his Auror training…" said Fred.

"Problem is," interrupts George, "Someone with erm, criminal intentions could make themselves look like a famous person for half an hour while doing something illegal."

"We couldn't see just using it like another form of canary cream and making people sprout feathers for half an hour," said Fred. "It would be a waste since we already have that."

"So we just kind of set it aside waiting for inspiration to hit," added George.

"It should hold a charm and it'll coat her from head to toes. It evaporates after half an hour," said Fred.

"Will it rinse off earlier than that with plain water?"

"We only tried it with water and soap," commented George. "We could test it, if we could borrow your bathroom, Professor?"

I escort Fred, George, and the bucket of Goo back to the bathroom. Allowing the Weasley twins to use my bathroom for an experiment ranks high on the list of highly unlikely things that had happened today.

George and Fred are looking around at my black marble retreat like they have just discovered the secret entrance to Xanadu.

"Cool, Professor," says George.

"If we'd known about this, we wouldn't have bothered breaking into the Prefect's bathroom," adds Fred.

"I have been given to understand the Headmaster's bathroom is more luxurious, but I suspect not nearly as heavily and dangerously warded as my own," I explain with the intent of nipping any inappropriate notions in the bud. "I believe we have work to do, gentlemen?"

"Right, sir," says Fred.

I cannot tell if he is chastened or not.

"Professor," says George, "Do you think it would be enough to charm the Goo bright green and put it on my hand to test it?

"We can start there," I reply. In short order, about two tablespoons of charmed green Goo is poured over George's hand. It magically spreads itself so that it covers his entire hand up to his wrist in an even coating of green Goo. After about two minutes, I touch it and it feels dry. Fred turns on the tap and George holds his hand underneath. It takes about five minutes of steady streaming water to remove the last trace of green.

"Lets try charming the Goo to affect me in a physical way," suggests George.

"How about lizard scales on your hand?" I suggest.

Two more tablespoons of Goo go into the cup and I apply the charm. Fred pours it over George's hand and his skin transforms into lizard hide. Once the potion is dried and his skin firmly formed, his hand goes back under the water. In five minutes, the lizard skin has vanished and George's hand looks human again.

"It looks like Goo is a go," says Fred.

I want to see what is happening with the charm research. We return to the sitting room where Arthur, Minerva, and Bill are paging through texts. I look by the fireplace and Poppy is kneeling beside Hermione, whispering something to Molly who looks alarmed. I hurry to join them.

When Poppy sees me coming, she rises and signals me to join her away from Hermione's hearing.

"Her pulse rate is dropping and she is delirious. Her blood pressure is going to start dropping again. We have to do something, _now_."

I nod, fighting back that panicked feeling. We both look to Bill, Arthur, and Minerva.

"We have a possibility," says Bill. "But you will need to suspend your initial reaction." He hands me an ancient text, written in a very old Egyptian dialect I cannot read.

"This spell was used to cover up murders. In ancient Egypt, most wizards and witches were members of the priestly caste. It allowed them to use magic in the name of the gods, which pleased the pharaohs and garnered them a good deal of political power. However, moving up the corporate ladder often involved assassination. For a thousand years or so, one of the most favored methods of assassination was to poison a bath."

"A topical poison." This does sound promising.

"Exactly. However, when one faction of the wizarding priesthood starts poisoning another faction of the wizarding priesthood, you have to hide the magical evidence," explains Bill. "This spell does that. It essentially removes the poison from the skin of the victim after death so it cannot be detected. The problem is, the words of the charm are too harsh to use on a living person. We can use the wand movements as long as we develop our own words. I have some ideas for the words. The wand movements were my biggest worry."

"Excellent, Bill," says Minerva.

"What about this Goo substance?" asks Poppy. "Is this charm compatable with use of the Goo as a carrier?"

"We will have to test it and do so quickly," I tell them. "We are running out of time."

"What substance would you suggest we test it with?" asks Minerva.

"Wormwood is probably one of the easiest substances to detect. I can apply some to Fred or George's hand, having every confidence they will volunteer. Using the charmed Goo, we can try to remove it. If any is left, it will glow violet when I use _Aperio_ to reveal it."

"You had best begin the test now," orders Poppy.

"Do you know the words you want to use?" I ask Bill.

"I have three incantations in mind I would like to try," he answers.

"Then let us get started."

----------------------------------------

Ten minutes later we are ready to try the charmed Goo on Hermione. The test went as hoped and Bill has finalized the wording of the charm.

The newly installed fireplace has the bathroom heated to a tropical temperature. Minerva has transfigured the shower so it is three times the usual size. Molly will attend Hermione in the shower since it is necessary for Hermione to be nude when the Goo is poured over her. Poppy will be standing by with Minerva to assist.

"You need to cast the charm, Severus," says Bill. "You know these ingredients, from their texture and color to their properties and chemical structure. They are real to you whereas they aren't real to me. The charm will be far more effective from you than it can be from me."

"Very well." I watch Bill carefully as he demonstrates the wand movements, tracing ancient Egyptian symbols in the air. I copy his movements and he nods approval. This is an appropriate time for foolish wand-waving.

We turn to look at Poppy, who is levitating a blanket-wrapped Hermione into the bathroom, followed by Molly who is wearing Minerva's gift along with a pair of my socks and latex gloves, much to her own chagrin and the amusement of her sons. One glare from Molly and the twins are respectfully silent. The three women will prepare Hermione before I go in and charm the Goo.

Whether this works or not, it is agreed that we will all evacuate Hermione to the Order's headquarters where she will be treated with blood cleansers. It will be easier to heat one of the bedrooms there to an excruciatingly high temperature than to try and do so with my bedroom. Besides, sooner or later someone is likely to take notice of the high level of activity in the dungeons.

We wait.

Minerva steps out of the bathroom. She has abandoned her outer robe and her face is shiny with sweat. No one is using cooling charms on themselves for fear of a possible effect on Hermione.

"We have her ready, Severus."

My robes are left behind on a chair in the bedroom. I go in with only my lightest shirt and trousers. It is literally a steam bath in here.

Molly is standing in the shower in front of Hermione, blocking my vision. They have seated her on a stool transfigured from a towel, compliments of Minerva. Poppy is standing close at hand, taking readings off Hermione. It looks like Molly is holding Hermione upright as she sits.

Two bowls of the Goo are sitting on the counter. I mentally picture the extract of Swedish short-snout firebladder extract. I see the thick black serum; imagine the burnt smell, the grainy texture as it pours. It is very real in my mind. I stand before the first bowl and recite the incantation, repeating the wand movements Bill showed me. The Goo turns gray, exactly as it should.

I hand it to Minerva who walks into the shower and hands it to Molly. The two women hold Hermione upright. Molly begins to pour it over Hermione's head. I cannot see what is happening.

"It is flowing over her like a living thing," says Poppy. "Amazing. It is covering her completely without touching the mucous membranes."

"You must let it dry," I instruct. "It took about three minutes when I used it on George."

We wait.

"Hermione is doing all right," says Poppy. "Her blood pressure is low, but stable and she is not shivering as badly. The heat and humidity in here are helping."

We wait.

It is three minutes.

"This coating feels dry now," says Molly. "Can we start the shower?"

"Yes," says Poppy. She backs out of the shower and Minerva taps the shower stall with her wand. The hot water begins to rain down on Hermione. I step to the side so the walls of the shower stall block my view.

We wait. It will take at least five minutes to rinse off the charmed Goo. I can hear Molly talking to Hermione.

"Hermione, I need for you to turn so the water can rinse your back. I'll hold you up; you just need to help me by moving your feet."

No answer.

"Poppy, I need your help," says Molly. "She's not strong enough and I can't pull her around without risking both of us slipping in here."

"No, Poppy," says Minerva. "I can do this while you continue taking readings."

I hear a snap of latex gloves and a waterproofing charm as Minerva steps into the shower. I can hear the two women bustling as they manage to get Hermione turned around.

"I must say, Molly," says Minerva. "What you are wearing is much more conducive to this kind of activity than what I have on, even with waterproofing charms.

"You actually gave this underwear to Severus for his birthday?" asks Molly as Poppy and Minerva burst into laughter.

"I have it on good authority he wears it regularly during the coldest weather," she jibes in return.

"Oh, yes Minerva," I reply. "I actually prefer to wear it to Death Eater meetings. It brightens up the whole occasion and improves my mood considerably. Even the Dark Lord has commented on it."

The women laugh. They lack a true appreciation of fine sarcasm.

I wait as they shift Hermione in the shower, attempting to get the water all over her body so it can rinse off the Goo.

"I think we have it," says Molly.

"I agree," says Minerva. "Shall we get her sitting down again?"

"Here is Hermione's wand," says Poppy. I can see her handing the wand into the shower.

"Have you got it, Hermione?" says Molly. "Give us a _Lumos,_ dear."

I can barely hear her, her voice sounds so weak.

"_Lumos_."

Minerva sounds excited. "We have sparks of light, Severus."

Relief.

"How is she Poppy?" I ask.

"Blood pressure is low, but stable," she replies.

"Chances are we have just found out there is something in the dragon firebladder extract that diminishes ability to use magic," I announce. "We must make certain by removing the acromantula venom. Can you dry Hermione off and get her ready to repeat what we just did?"

"Give us a minute and we'll be ready," says Minerva.

---------------------------

The women are drying and dressing Hermione as I return to the sitting room to tell the men what is happening.

"The first test with the Goo removed the firebladder extract from Hermione's skin. She was able to get a few sparks of light from her wand with a _Lumos_. The second test removed the acromantula venom and the sparking she was able to generate stayed the same.

"This indicates it is probably the firebladder extract that diminishes magical capability. If it was the acromantula venom, she should have been able to increase the sparking from her wand."

"Do you think we'll be able to find a way to turn this into a weapon against the Dark Lord?" asks Fred.

"Absolutely," says Bill with a gleam in his eye. "We'll just need to work on an exact formulation and a delivery system."

"Right now, we have to get Hermione to headquarters where we can get one of the bedrooms hotter than we can get one here," I tell them.

"I've already flooed Remus," says Bill. "He's getting one of the bedrooms ready. I think between all of us, we can take turns keeping Hermione warm."

"I need to get to my storeroom and get potions and supplies needed for her treatment. Detoxifying her blood is likely to take several hours." I pause and look at all of them.

"Thank you all for your assistance. Between the invention of Goo (with a nod at the twins) and the development of a working charm (a nod to Bill), you made it possible for this to happen. Now we have to change priorities to focus on Hermione's treatment."

I stride out of the room before any of them can respond. I do not wish to deal with any of them right now. I have all I can do to manage myself and I prefer privacy.

I go to my storeroom and begin packing what looks like a Muggle doctor's case. It is custom-made and bottomless, so it will hold whatever is needed. I have two vials of Blood Cleansing potion, magically designed to flush contaminants from the body without killing the patient.

We may need more, so I gather other bottles and packets of dried leaves and put them in the satchel. The other ingredients are available in the cellar laboratory at headquarters.

I summon my copy of _Medicinal Potions_ and open to the pages listing potions that will raise blood pressure. More ingredients go into the satchel, along with the book. She may need a diuretic as well, so a few bottles originally destined for the hospital wing go into the case.

I think I have everything and go over it one more time to check. That is when it hits me just how ill Hermione is and that she is a long way from being out of danger.

My heart is pounding and I realize how shallowly I am breathing. I grasp the edge of the counter with both hands and deliberately slow down my breathing to halt my rising panic.

I make myself breathe deeply and take control of myself once again. My self-discipline is back into place.

She might need something for her heart rate, so I add that too.

One more look around the storage room. I see the remaining bottles of doxy repellent on the counter, having already destroyed the broken bottles. There is a Hogwarts student somewhere having a pleasant holiday while not realizing they have very nearly killed someone. There will be hell to pay for this. I focus on this for a while. Anger I can deal with. These other things I feel, I cannot.

I close the case and return to the sitting room.

Arthur and the twins have already flooed to headquarters. Bill and I stand with Minerva as Poppy and Molly are dressing Hermione in the bedroom. There are a few potions on the nightstand for pain relief I want to get. Molly comes to the doorway and signals that it all right to come in.

I go directly to the bed and see Hermione lying there, shaking profusely. She is wrapped up in a blanket, cocooned in it. I recognize one of Minerva's cloaks underneath her and Poppy and Molly are wrapping it around her.

Bill comes over to pick her up as I retrieve the pain relievers from the nightstand. For a moment Hermione's eyes open and she sees me and gives me a wan smile.

We depart.

-----------------------

Author's notes

Yes. This is another evil cliffhanger.

Thank you to all my reviewers. I try to respond to as many as I can, but if you don't log in or leave an e-mail address, I can't. Thanks again to: Shadow, Ms.understood, Soul Chaser, Duj, Angryteabag, SSHGDMlove, Rinny08, Squeaker 19450, Lucyferina, Lyannie5, Notwritten, Andi-Scribbles, Severus-Fan, Keket Amunet, SEVERlyinlove, Excessivelyperky, Bundles-'o-joy, Arime Setta, Pyro313, LettyBIRD, Severessa, Droxy, MollysSister, Me613, Jocemum, Danielle, Saz, Mugglemomof3, Hebi R., Evil-mastermind666, and KarenDetroit.


	61. Chapter 61

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for somehow finding time to critique these chapters in the middle of everything else in her life.

Deep appreciation to Jocemum for looking over this chapter and offering input (more about that later).

----------------------------

Hermione  
April 3rd, 1999

The universe is ice.

I'm so cold and the cold is everywhere. Inside me, outside of me. So cold. Crave warmth. Please Severus come back. I was almost warm. No more water. Cold again. Shivering. Teeth chattering.

"Are you awake, Hermione?"

I open my eyes. Why aren't they frozen shut? Focus. Hard to focus. Bill. It's Bill.

"Mum, can you pull the hood up? I'll get the cloak tighter around her."

Hands touching my head. Cloth. So cold. So cold.

"Hermione, I'm going to pick you up now. Minerva has reset the wards, so we're going to floo straight through to headquarters. We can get you warmer there."

I can see more clearly. Wrapped up in something. Blankets? Molly looks worried. Bill's in front of her, bending over me. Picking me up.

Cold. Shivering. Warmer. Bill holding me. Curl up against him. Get warm.

Severus is here, putting bottles in a bag. Safe, safe. Severus is here.

Bill's carrying me. Where? Minerva?

Poppy's holding a wand over me. Close my eyes. So tired.

"We're going to floo now, Hermione." Bill's voice is soft. He's so kind.

Oh.

Don't throw up. Keep eyes closed. Spinning, spinning. So cold. Carry me. Where?

"How is she, Poppy?" Remus. I hear Remus.

"We have got to get her warm and get the acromantula venom and firebladder extract out of her system. Her blood pressure is much too low and one of them is causing that drop. Is the bedroom ready?"

"I've put every extra blanket in the house in there and enlarged the bed. It was okay to use magic for that, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Remus." Severus' voice.

Safe, safe.

"We cannot use any kind of magic for warmth. Her neural pathways are wide open right now and it makes her feel like she is on fire."

"The boiler is Muggle. Dora is going to a Muggle store to buy a space heater. How warm do we need to get it in there?"

"Over ninety degrees would be good." Severus. "She seemed less uncomfortable when we were able to get it very hot in the bathroom."

"I've turned the radiator in that bedroom up to the highest setting. Between that and a space heater, it should get it hot in there." Remus.

Going up stairs.

"Its okay, Hermione. We'll have you back in bed in a minute and get you warmed up." Bill.

"I have the blankets pulled back. Go ahead and lay her down. I want to get her out of that cloak."

On a bed. "No, too cold." Moan. Floating.

"It is all right Hermione. I am just taking the cloak out from under you."

"Poppy?"

"I'm here. We are taking care of you and will have you warm soon."

"Arthur and I will take the first hour." Molly.

"It will probably be terribly hot for you. If you find you cannot handle it for that long or it starts to make you feel ill, we will make the shifts shorter."

"We can handle it for an hour." Arthur. "The others are splitting up their shifts."

"Can you raise her up?" Severus.

Please stay. I'm scared. I'm scared.

"Open your eyes, Hermione. I need you to wake up for me."

Anything, anything. Please stay. I'm scared.

My eyes open. Severus is here. Safe, safe. Shivering. Cold, cold, cold.

"Drink this, Hermione." Gentle voice. Calm.

Holding glass to my lips. Trust. Drink.

Urgh.

"I know, but you must drink it all."

"Yuck."

Severus smiles. "Good girl. You can lay her down now."

"Roll her on her side. That way Arthur and I can get right up next to her."

Mattress dips. Open eyes. Molly.

"Hermione, come snuggle up right next to me. That's better. I've got you and Arthur is right up against your back. We'll help you get warm."

Oh, Molly's warm. Snuggle close.

"Thank you, thank you." My back is warmer.

"Go ahead and put the quilts on top, Poppy." Arthur, behind me.

Close my eyes. Chilly, not so cold. Shivering. So tired, tired. Rest.

Voices wake me up. Not so cold. Molly's warm. Cuddle.

"We have to get her blood pressure up, Severus. She needs to drink as much water as we can get into her to flush her system. We cannot use any diuretics to speed up the process unless her blood pressure is back to normal and stays that way."

"If we do decide to use one, this diuretic potion has the lowest risk of negative interaction with the acromantula venom. I believe the venom is the problem."

"We need to try hydration first."

Shiver. Sleep.

"_Hermione, dear. You need to wake up, now._"

"Mum?"

"_I'm right here. Daddy's here, too._"

"Okay, Mum."

"Oh, Arthur. She thinks I'm her mother."

"It will be all right, Molly. She's just a little out of her head right now."

"_The Professor is going to help you, dear. There's something he needs you to drink._"

I open my eyes a little. So bright in here. Tired. Cold. Sleepy. Shiver.

"Let's get her sitting up, Severus."

Pulling me up, blanket fell. Cold. Oh cold. Shiver. Cold. Scared. Cold.

"Hermione, I need you to drink this. You are awake Hermione. Just open your mouth."

I see Severus. His hair looks wet, face is sweaty. Holding a vial.

Mum is standing behind him. She glows. Mum's smiling.

I open my mouth and drink. He has a glass of water for me next.

"_You'll start feeling better soon, dear_."

Smile at Severus. He smiles back.

"_Thank him for us, Hermione_."

"She says 'Thank you'."

"Who?" he asks.

"My mother. Behind you."

So tired. Close my eyes. Lay back down. Sleep.

Shivering. Cold. Where's Molly? Come back.

"_You're doing better, sweetheart, but the nurse needs to help you_."

"It will be easiest to do this now while she's half asleep. If you will all leave the room."

"_Daddy and I are still here. We're not going to leave, baby_."

The door closes. I'm cold. Where's the quilt?

"Hermione, if you can hear me, I am going to catheterize you. We need you to drink a lot of water and it will be much easier on you if you urinate through a catheter. I am going to move your legs open."

"Poppy?"

"I am right here. I am inserting a catheter. It will pinch just a little until I get it situated."

"Didn't we just do this?" Shivering. So cold.

Poppy chuckles. "No Hermione, this is not a pelvic examination. I am putting in a catheter so your bladder will empty without you having to be awake or use a bedpan."

"_She's almost done and then you can go back to sleep_."

Cold, cold, please cover me where's Molly I'm cold.

"Mum, don't go. Where's Daddy?"

"_I promise, I'm right here. Daddy's over by the door to give you privacy_."

She closes my legs. Strange feeling, tube between my legs. Pulling up blankets.

The door. Cold. Shiver.

"How is her blood pressure, Poppy?" Severus. Relief.

"_You feel better when he's here, don't you sweetheart?_"

"Yes, Dad."

"Much better. It is 110 over 75 and her heart rate is 66 beats per minute."

"I have additional doses of the Blood Cleansing potion simmering. Is it safe to give her the diuretic?"

"No. I prefer to keep giving her water to flush her system."

"Merlin, it's hot in here." Ron.

"The next shift of human bedwarmers is here." Harry.

"_Of course they'd be here to help take care of you. They love you._"

"You two need to understand what is going on with Hermione." Stern voice. "I have just catheterized her and we are having her drink as much water as she can. Along with the Blood Cleansing potion, this will flush the toxins out of her system through her urine. We keep her lying on her side so she can take advantage of the body heat of both people lying next to her. That means one of you is going to have the catheter tube lying across you. You must be very careful not to pinch off the tube or interfere with it in any way."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"I understand, Madame Pomfrey. I'll do it. Ron's squeamish."

"We'll help you sit up, Hermione." Arms behind me. Ron. Harry. Warm. Shiver. Open eyes.

"Hello."

Severus again. A glass. He looks tired. Greasy hair. Glad he's here.

"I need you to drink more water. It will speed up the elimination of the acromantula venom and firebladder extract from your system."

Drink. Sleepy, cold, tired. Close eyes. Lying down.

"Merlin, that thing's not going to spring a leak and end up all over me, is it?"

Poppy laughs.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, Hermione." Ron. "Just ignore him."

"I'm just teasing." Harry. "Are you getting warmer?"

"Better." Cuddle. Safe. Ron and Harry. Safe. Chilly. Tired.

Waking up. Sitting up. Open eyes. Harry holding a glass.

Severus.

"This is the third dose of the cleansing potion. How are you feeling?"

"Cold. Still cold. Dizzy." Shivering. Please hold me. I'm cold. Drink. More water.

"Her blood pressure and heart rate are stable. Temperature is 97.5. Kidneys and liver are functioning just fine. Get her back under the blankets."

"Right, Madame Pomfrey."

"_You are doing better now, Hermione. You'll start to feel warm soon. Go back to sleep._"

Ron's warm against my back. Harry. Snuggle. Safe. Cold. Sleepy.

"Mum, what do you mean we don't get a turn?" Is that George?

"I owe her, after she took care of me. Honest, Mum, we'll behave." Fred.

"I am going to charm her nightshirt. You will both lay with your backs to her. If your hands go anywhere they don't belong, her shirt will glow and you will have me to deal with. Understood?"

So tired. Cold. Sleep.

Turn over. Sleep. Open eyes. Bill. He looks like he's too hot.

"Bill?"

"Right here. How are you feeling?"

"Chilly. Not freezing like before."

"That's good news, Hermione. Did you hear that Poppy?"

"Yes, I did. I will let Severus know. The cleansing potion appears to be doing the job."

Sleep.

"_Sweetheart, Daddy and I have to go now. You're out of danger and we have to go back._"

"I miss you."

"Hermione?"

"Ginny?"

"I'm right here. Bill is on your other side."

"Mum and Dad are leaving."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. It's all my fault."

"_Pumpkin, you couldn't have saved us, even if you had been there. It isn't your fault. We're just glad you weren't there._"

"Who is she talking to? She's crying."

"Hermione has been talking to her parents off and on for the last few hours." Severus sounds so calm.

"I'm sorry."

"_Hermione, there is nothing to be sorry for. Your mother and I are fine. We are never so far away that we can't hear when you talk to us._"

"Daddy, Mum?"

"Tell her that you forgive her," whispers Severus.

"_I think she needs to hear us say it, David. We forgive you._"

"_Of course we forgive you, Pumpkin._"

"Thanks."

"_We approve of your young man. He's been here all along taking care of you. He's very frightened by all of this, you know_."

Smile.

"_You'll have to help him work through that. Oh, and tell Harry that Sirius says to check the balance on the Firebolt. He'll need it._"

"Okay."

"_We love you. We will always love you. Go back to sleep now, Hermione_."

"Love you, too."

Sleep

------------------------------

I'm hot. It must be a hundred degrees in here.

"Looks like she's waking up. What time is it anyway?"

"Almost 4 am."

"Tonks?"

"Wotcher, Hermione."

"It's really hot in here, isn't it?"

"You're not cold?"

"Hello, Remus. No, I'm hot."

"If you think it's okay for me to get out of the bed, I'll go get Poppy and Severus. They're taking a cooling down break."

"I'm plenty warm enough, so go right ahead."

I feel the mattress shift behind me. I can see Remus as he comes around the end of the bed. Remus has a serious case of bed-hair on the left side of his head.

"I'll be right back," says Remus.

I want to sit up and get some of these blankets off me and open a window. It is stifling in here.

I start by sitting up. Oh, that makes me dizzy. I wait until the room stops spinning.

What in the world am I wearing? The gray sleeves are so long, they are over my hands.

Oh, that's right. I'm wearing Severus' nightshirt. In that case, it's fine.

Tonks is sitting up, too. She looks sweaty.

"You are doing better," she says. "Remus and I have been here almost an hour and at the start, you couldn't get enough body heat."

"How long has all of this been going on?"

"From what Severus says, it started yesterday afternoon when that bottle of Crucio potion exploded on you."

"What time is it?"

"About 4 am or so," answers Tonks with a yawn. "It's not dawn yet."

I can hear people coming up the stairs. Poppy is in the door first, followed by Molly. Severus comes in after them. I am so glad to see him, I practically sag with relief.

"Hello, everyone." I know I sound uncertain. "I think I caused all of you some inconvenience. I'm sorry."

By this time Harry, Ron, Minerva, Ginny, Bill, George, Fred, Molly, Arthur, and Remus are all in the room or crowding the door, too.

"It's kind of hot in here. Could we open a window or something?"

Everyone is laughing.

It sounds to me like relief. Harry, Ron, and Ginny flop down on the bed just as soon as Tonks climbs out of it. Something tugs horribly between my legs and I squeal.

"Oh, shit," says Ron and the three of them spring right back off the bed.

"I think we sat on the cat eater tube," says Ron, "Are you okay?"

I know I'm turning bright red. I remember Poppy doing something. I'm peeing through a tube and everyone knows.

"As much as everyone is enjoying this happy reunion," says Severus dryly, "Now that we have all seen that Hermione is apparently awake, alert, and recovering, we should leave and allow Madame Pomfrey to examine her patient."

"You are quite correct, Severus," says Minerva. "It is a great relief to us all to see you so improved, Hermione."

"Before all of you leave, could you turn off this heating contraption?" asks Poppy, pointing to the space heater against the wall. Harry complies and trails out after the others. Poppy closes the door.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?"

"I feel weak, like I've been sick."

"What about the temperature of the room?"

"It's hot in here and I'm rather sweaty. These sheets feel like several people were sweating on them."

"That is literally the case. We had the temperature in here up to 95 degrees and had two people lying next to you all the time with three quilts on top of them."

"I remember that. I was so cold I couldn't get warm. Even with all of that, I still felt like I was freezing."

The next several minutes were involved in having a rather thorough physical examination, followed by a magically arranged changing of the bedding, and opening the window by about two inches.

"Your readings are all back within the normal range," says Poppy as she hands me another nightshirt out of the dresser, another gray one.

I must be in the room Severus uses when he stays at headquarters. Poppy did a cleansing charm and I do feel fresher than I had before. I would have preferred a shower, but realistically, I couldn't have done one unassisted. I think I've had enough of other people seeing me naked for a few days.

"What about the catheter?" I ask as I poke my head through the top of the nightshirt.

"I will remove it later today or tomorrow morning. Severus and I both want to examine your urine."

Oh, there's a thought. The man I love is fascinated by my urine.

"Back into bed, young lady," orders Poppy. "I expect you to stay there, too."

Like I'm going to walk around headquarters with a catheter tube and a urine catcher bag draped over my arm, even if I could get up and walk around. I climb back into the bed, moving carefully so I don't catch that tube on anything or get tangled up in it.

"Do you feel like you could eat?" asks Poppy as she pulls the sheet and one blanket up over me.

"I think so. I'm really thirsty."

"Dobby has made soup. I will have him bring you a bowl. Keep it light, don't push it." She hands me a glass of water and I drain it dry. "Drink as much water as you can. We want to flush all of the toxins out of your system. With the catheter, it will go right through you so you don't need to worry about getting up."

"Poppy," I touch her arm as she adjusts the pillows, "Thank you so much. I think maybe you saved my life."

"I do not know if it is quite as dramatic as that, but you gave us some nervous moments. If there is credit due, it must be shared with Bill for working out the charms and mostly with Severus for determining what the substances caused the most problems and preparing the treatment potions."

"I intend to thank them, too."

"Then go ahead and get some rest. I will go downstairs and report to your many friends that you seem to be making a very good recovery. I will allow a few visitors as long as they do not overtax you and let you rest.

I lean back onto the pillows, worn out from the effort of getting out of the bed and changing nightshirts. I guess this really did take a lot out of me. Then, I realize I haven't tested my magic and look around for my wand.

"Looking for this, Hermione?" Severus is standing in the doorway with my wand dangling casually between his fingers.

I give him the warmest smile I can conjure.

"Thank you." I let those words mean so many things.

Severus walks to the side of the bed and summons a chair from the desk so he can sit. He looks exhausted. The lines on his face show a definite lack of sleep and a lot of stress. His hair is greasier than I have ever seen it before. At least in the heat of this room, he seems to have abandoned his frock coat and unbuttoned a few of the buttons on his collar. I can see the scar on his neck. He is still buttoned down past his wrists.

"You are welcome." He looks at me with an expression of relief, caring, worry? I'm not sure because he's so hard to read, but I know it's a good thing. "I managed to delay your friends for a bit because I told them I needed readings off your urine bag."

"You look worn out, Severus. You've been up all night, haven't you?"

"Do you remember what happened?" he answers, avoiding my question.

"Parts. I remember being in the storeroom and taking the topical Crucio out of the cabinet. Then something exploded and it was all pain after that. Things are pretty hazy until I was in the cold immersion bath and you were taking care of me."

I do not specify that I vaguely remember being _naked_ in the cold immersion bath with Severus caring for me.

"Then I was in your bed and I kept getting colder and colder. The warming charm made me feel like I was on fire."

I cannot help but shudder at the memory of that. I reach over and grasp Severus' hand for comfort. He lets me.

"You figured it out that my nervous system couldn't turn off the cold messages because of something in the Crucio potion. Then you took me in your sitting room and we laid down on something in front of the fireplace."

His hand tightens around mine.

"You held me and I wasn't so cold. I was afraid and you made me feel safe." Severus is looking at me so intensely. "After that, it's bits and pieces of things. Molly had me in the shower trying to get me to do Lumos. That's confusing. I remember Bill was somewhere in all of this, so was Minerva. Then, I'm here. You kept bringing me things to drink. Everyone was taking turns lying next to me to keep me warm. I was terribly cold and then a little while ago, I wake up and I'm hot."

"That is largely what happened. There are other things, but you will likely remember on your own over time." He looks down at the bedcover where our hands are joined. "You look much better."

I squeeze his hand. "You look terrible. I've given you a bad time, haven't I?"

"It is hardly your fault and when I determine which student caused the explosion…." Severus leaves the threat unfinished.

"You saved my life."

"Perhaps." He looks up at me. "It is time to try your magic."

He picks up my wand from where he laid it on the bed table and hands it to me. I release his hand and take it. I run my hand down the length of the wand, feeling the comfort of the cool familiar wood against my fingers.

"_Lumos_." The tip of the wand casts a golden glow. I mentally adjust the brightness so that it burns brightly and then dims.

I point the wand at an empty potions vial on the dresser. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." I levitate the vial across the room and Severus reaches out to catch it.

I wave my wand forward and back, up and down, side to side and then sketch the sigil for area in the air. The glowing sigil reshapes itself into the numbers calculated to be the area of the room.

"It seems to be back."

"It returned partially when we had you covered in a charmed potion and rinsed it off in the shower. It removed the miniature Swedish short snout dragon firebladder extract from your skin. The Blood Cleansing potion removed the firebladder extract and acromantula venom that got into your bloodstream from the cuts."

I know my eyes are wide with astonishment. He quirks a smile when he sees that I understand what this means.

"We have it, Hermione. You paid the price with your suffering and very nearly with your life." The quirk turns into a genuinely wicked grin. "It was the firebladder extract that blocked your magic. We have our weapon against the Dark Lord."

If he were sitting on the bed instead of the chair, I could put my arms around him. But if he were on the bed, he'd be sitting on my catheter tube. I compromise and raise myself up and scoot over on the bed. I reach over and stroke the side of his face, drawing him closer to me. I lean forward and tilt my head. His eyes are so dark, but right now they are full of light. His head moves towards mine, our eyes close, and our lips touch. It is a gentle kiss.

Severus lifts his head away from mine and holds out his hand towards the door. In a bit of wandless magic, the door closes. He half rises from the chair and carefully looks at the bed to make sure the catheter tube is not in the way. He moves to the edge of the bed and sits.

Severus draws me into his arms and mine move around his shoulders to the back of his neck. His skin is sticky from sweat. I don't care how greasy his hair is, I'm grateful to have my fingers in it. He doesn't smell any too good either. We come together in the most wonderful, open mouthed, passionate kiss I've ever experienced. He tastes like sour coffee and I don't care. My mouth can't taste any better than his and all I care about is that Severus is holding me, touching me, kissing me.

I love you. I want to say it, but I don't want to scare you away.

I am so glad I lived through all of it so we could have this moment. Our mouths move together and then slow. We are both exhausted and I think he's feeling vulnerable. Our heads move back and Severus moves closer so I can rest my head against his shoulder and we just hold each other, hands moving and stroking each other's back.

"Severus," I whisper, "Severus."

He strokes my hair and releases me. He looks at me with a world of tenderness in his eyes.

"You could have died."

I smile at him. "I didn't. A very good Potions Master saw to it."

He smiles back, reaches up and touches my face again. I so want to say the words. I want to tell him, but I know it is too soon.

"You have to rest." Severus shakes his head. "We both do."

I nod and Severus releases me and stands.

"I really do have to take readings off your urine bag," he says ruefully. "I am trying to estimate the amount of firebladder extract that actually got into your system. I plan to quadruple that amount for the Dark Lord. Actually, Molly has been drafted to empty your urine into glass jugs down in the lab so we can do an accurate analysis."

I can't help chuckling. Some year I will tell my grandchildren I peed for the cause in the war against Voldemort.

Severus does a bit of wand-waving over the urine bag hanging from the hook at the side of the bed and makes a note on a piece of paper.

"I will go downstairs and tell your friends they can come see you now. Before I came up here, Molly was supervising Dobby making you soup. She will probably be here shortly to supervise you as you consume it. Right now, I intend to take a very long shower and find an unoccupied bed around here and sleep."

"I'll probably go back to sleep soon, too. Will you come and see me before you leave?" I ask.

"Yes," says Severus as he opens the bedroom door. "I will not be far away."

I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Severus backs into the hallway, allowing Harry and Ron to come through the door. He watches for a moment and then disappears. Even as Harry and Ron hug me, all I can think about is Severus.

------------------------

Author's notes

Special credit is owed to Jocemum, who critiqued chapters 60 and 61 before they were posted. As a medical professional, she pointed out that my original plan to have Severus give Hermione a diuretic along with the Blood Cleansing Potion would probably have killed Hermione. Diuretics shouldn't be given to someone with low blood pressure. She recommended hydration instead. Without this bit of advice, I'd have had to turn this into a ghost story, which would have seriously displeased both Severus and Hermione.

Thanks to all my reviewers; Slytherinchick101, Tigris, Kate Mc, Rinny08, Tart-hoyden, Arime Setta, Jade 2099, Siren 34, Duj, Miroku75, KarlaMarie, Notwritten, Jagsgurl15m, Ocayfine, EvilMastermind666, Sirsevchick, Latinachikita, Pyro313, SlytherinTwinCC, Excessivelyperky, Koliber, Erytha, Maddie50, Jocemum, Hebi R., Angel-Tears 16, Ebbe04, Latinachikita, Keket Amunet, Becky, SEVERlyinlove, Soul Chaser, Morwen24, Andi-Scribbles, Joani-the-unique-being, t wrecks, CinnamonMonty, Darque Hart, Grindylow, Danielle, Not so Chicken Little, LettyBIRD, Me613, Lyndi578, Lucyferina, Droxy, MollysSister, Adele Rose, SlvrNight, HPWylie, KKDuke, Greyfalcon, Severessa, Ami Mizuno1, AMistressMalfoy, Mugglemomof3, SquigglesCandi (who leaves long reviews and more than I can answer), Page 394, Maxine Durchova, Angie S, Sweetie-Pie5445, Amsev, and Starbridge


	62. Chapter 62

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for reviewing and critiquing this chapter in the midst of the holidays.

---------------------------  
Severus,  
April 6th, 1999

---------------------------  
Albus  
Early morning

Albus Dumbledore rolled over gingerly and extended his legs over the edge of the bed. He wiggled his toes, extended his feet, flexed his ankles, and then his knees.

When one is well into their second century, one cannot be too careful about limbering up before getting out of bed.

He got to his feet carefully, inserted his feet into his slippers, reached over for his dressing gown, and wrapped it around his wiry form. His muscles loosened up, Albus moved silently across the bedroom floor.

When one woke up regularly next to Poppy Pomfrey, one was extraordinarily careful to let her sleep until 6 am. The wrath of a cranky sleep-deprived Poppy was fearsome to behold.

His hair and beard protected by waterproofing charms, Albus stepped into the shower.

The most luxurious bathroom in the castle was attached to the Headmaster's quarters, but in the mornings, Albus always preferred a shower for the sake of efficiency. It might surprise Voldemort and the Death Eater contingency to learn of it, but Albus Dumbledore had some of his best ideas and made many of his most important decisions in the shower. Uninterrupted time, the soothing sound and feeling of the water, combined with conducting the routine mechanics of showering, allowed Albus freedom to think.

There was plenty to think about. First and foremost on Albus' mind was his conversation with Severus last night and the possible discovery of a useable weapon against Tom Riddle. If Severus was correct, it might be possible to rob Tom of his magical capabilities, rendering him helpless.

Without Voldemort's leadership and with Lucius Malfoy's defection (assuming it held true), the whole Death Eater organization would collapse.

According to Poppy, Hermione Granger had very nearly died as a result of the explosion in the potions storeroom. Her insistence on postponing treatment until the agent that suppressed her magic could be identified very nearly cost Hermione her life. Her courage (and he would expect nothing less from one of his Gryffindors) may have saved them all months of research to identify the magic suppressant in the topical Crucio potion, potentially shortening the outcome of the war and saving lives.

Albus was pleased with the way the Order members had come together to find a workable treatment for Hermione, while allowing for the identification of the magic suppressant.

Once again, Severus had shown his leadership qualities. Albus had to marvel at the sheer brilliance and versatility of the man. Known for his disdain of _foolish wand-waving_, Severus had worked with Bill Weasley on the necessary charm to remove the toxins from Hermione's skin and coordinated the team effort needed to save her life.

The most brilliant member of Albus' staff had almost certainly saved the life of his most brilliant student. It was surprising how well Severus Snape and Hermione Granger worked together on the projects they had addressed so far. Using Hermione's growing knowledge of Muggle science and Severus' extensive knowledge of potions, they were garnering remarkable results.

It was a shame their time had to be spent on the war effort. What could they accomplish if they had the time to work on more benign projects?

That was a question to be answered after the conclusion of the war and then only if the Order won and both survived.

With a sense of deep regret, Albus acknowledged the odds of Severus surviving were not in his favor. Tom Riddle had already tortured Severus within an inch of his life for failure to complete assigned tasks to his satisfaction and occasionally purely on a whim. Sooner or later, the odds were the Dark Lord would take it too far with fatal effects. If Riddle determined where Severus' loyalties truly lay, it would be death by slow torture.

Of all of the Order's soldiers in this war, Severus Snape was in the worst position for hope of long-term survival. In many ways, it was a miracle he had lasted this long without being discovered. Even with magical protections in place based on a version of the Fidelius charm that prevented Order members from remembering Severus' presence at Order meetings when in the presence of one bearing the Dark Mark, some form of accidental or intentional betrayal could occur.

Assuming the miracle happened and Severus managed to survive, Daniel Schuler wanted him for Avalon College. Albus had very mixed feelings about that. His first choice would be to have Severus refuse such an offer and continue to teach at Hogwarts as he had for almost twenty years.

After all, Severus might be an unpleasant teacher, but he was a highly effective one. His students had the best record of Potions OWLs and NEWTs in Europe. At Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, along with a few of the lesser wizarding schools, the first five years of Potions classes were invariably taught by Certified Potions Technicians.

Only Durmstrang and Beauxbatons offered NEWT level classes and had to contract with outside Potions Masters to provide them. To have a Potions Master teach all levels was rare in the last two hundred years.

Severus' safety record was the icing on the cake. Just three years ago, Durmstrang lost a student in a cauldron explosion and four others were badly injured. Beauxbatons' last fatality was six years ago. Severus, on the other hand, had never lost a student to a potions accident.

Albus had to admit, his desire to keep Severus at Hogwarts was selfish. Although it might be the best possible outcome for his school, it might not be in Severus' best interests.

Avalon College and Daniel Schuler might have a lot more to offer someone of Severus Snape's talents and disposition. Schuler was right when he derided the fact that Severus was expected to teach eleven year olds. His personality might indeed be better suited to teaching adults whose spinal columns were already firmly in place and did not require Severus' occasionally brutal brand of stiffening.

Could Severus be happy? That was difficult to assess, given the man's demeanor. Perhaps the more appropriate question was could Severus be happy elsewhere?

Perhaps he could, considered Albus.

Severus lived with constant stress as a double agent, maintaining his dual roles and living with the reality that he could end up very unpleasantly dead at any time. If that pressure were gone, it could make a world of difference.

If he lived somewhere else, worked somewhere else in a place where he did not have a reputation and history preceding him, could he start all over again? Might there be a woman somewhere who could appreciate the man of honor hidden beneath the layers of bitterness and sarcasm? Could the bitterness and sarcasm soften into the driest of all possible wit in a place where he was welcomed and respected?

_Yes_. It was possible, decided Albus.

Severus Snape had the potential to be content, if not happy, under different life circumstances. Schuler was right when he said Albus owned Severus' past while he could offer Severus a future.

Albus had an obligation to let Severus go. He would not play the love and loyalty card and manipulate Severus into staying after the war was over. It was time Severus had something for himself.

It would leave a very difficult to fill vacancy on his staff. Where might he find someone of Severus' caliber to fill his shoes?

Albus would never find another Potions Master willing to teach all seven years. Severus' salary, even after almost twenty years of teaching, was well below what he could have earned elsewhere. He worked at Hogwarts because it was part of the initial deal to keep him out of Azkaban and to provide for his protection from other Death Eaters. Now, it was part of his cover with Voldemort and so kept him alive.

A full time Potions Master was out of Albus' financial reach. He would have to hire a Certified Potions Technician to teach the lower classes and see if he could contract for a Potions Master for the NEWT classes. The combined cost would certainly exceed Severus's salary, not a good thing for Hogwarts' budget.

Albus began to hum to himself as an idea occurred to him; a plan began to form in his mind.

He might have to compromise for a few years and settle for less than what he wanted during that time, but there was another highly talented individual who might just be within his reach.

Hermione Granger was a brilliant young woman who clearly knew her way around a potions lab and who had such potential.

She was somewhere between four and five years away from having her degree, a degree that might not be accepted as the equivalent of a Potions Master outside of the United States. She could certainly pass the licensing test, but may well find she could not get a Master's level job.

Good, bad, or otherwise, Hermione was Muggleborn. That would further narrow her career possibilities, but could be an important consideration in getting her to join the staff of Hogwarts.

There was no doubt in Albus' mind that Hermione could be enticed by the thought of living and working in a magical castle, sitting at the head table in the Great Hall, and becoming the first Muggleborn in the history of Hogwarts to ever teach Potions. It would be the ultimate recognition of her marvelous intellect and talent. And as a special bonus, her personality might be more conducive to the peaceful instruction of students. As an unacknowledged protégé of Professor Snape, her emphasis on safety would be just as strong. Her style would simply be less brutal.

All Albus had to do was give her time to finish her education and ensure that she would return to Britain instead of being lured away by opportunities in the United States.

How to accomplish that?

Hermione's two best friends were here in Britain and had voiced no plans to go anywhere else. She had good friends among the members of the Order, as had clearly been demonstrated by the concerted effort to save her life. The Weasleys had virtually adopted Hermione, giving her a form of family ties here. Of course, if those ties were strengthened even further….

Albus chuckled aloud as the inspiration hit.

Hermione Granger needed a husband, the right husband to give her the love and support she needed, the potential for a family of her own, and a solid anchor to Hogwarts.

This could work, especially if that husband were Bill Weasley.

How convenient that Fleur Delacour had decided Bill Weasley, schoolteacher, was much less interesting than Bill Weasley, curse breaker. That shallow little madam had dumped Bill a few weeks ago in favor of a French Auror. Fortunately, Bill did not seem overly distressed by her departure.

Bill came up with the charm needed to treat Hermione during the crisis three days ago. He participated in her care and genuinely seemed to like her.

During his interview for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Bill had said that he wanted to be closer to his family and more readily available for the Order than he could be as long as Gringotts' stationed him in Egypt. That combined with his lack of distress over Miss Delacour's abandonment might mean that he was ready for a serious relationship of the settling down sort.

Hermione was definitely the settling down type.

Perhaps if the two of them were thrown together under the proper conditions, nature could simply take its course.

It would require a long-distance courtship, but there were ways to manage that. Bill's parents would certainly be delighted and supportive. After all, Hermione was already a daughter in their minds and this could make her a daughter in fact.

Yes indeed, mused Albus, there were ways Hermione and Bill could be assisted in discovering each other.

In a few years, Hermione could take over the Potions position and they could settle into family quarters in the teachers' tower. Eventually, when Albus retired and Minerva took over as Headmistress, there would be a need for a new Head of House for Gryffindor. Either Bill or Hermione could be a good choice. Their babies could be born and raised right here at Hogwarts.

Perfect.

'Tonight,' thought Albus, 'Tonight the plan goes into action.'

--------------------

Severus  
Late Afternoon

Once again, I review the notes Hermione made of our discussion this morning.

The discovery of the magic suppressant in the firebladder extract generated a rather lively debate between the two of us about how best to develop it into a weapon. It is not resolved and this evening we will make a presentation to the key members of the Order in the hope they will understand what we are trying to do.

It will take the entire intellectual and creative resources of the Order to turn this into a useable weapon against Voldemort.

Right now, Hermione is sitting on the sofa, wearing a thick Weasley jumper and wrapped up in one of Molly's magically knitted afghans. Her neurology textbook is on her lap and she is sipping from a cup of hot chocolate.

She is still too sensitive to cold and even the mild chill of April leaves her shivering. Her sensitivity affected her to a much greater degree than any of the rest of us who received the cold immersion treatment. No magical means of warming are allowed around her for understandable reasons.

Poppy will be coming to headquarters for our meeting. She will examine Hermione again and decide if we should try a warming charm. If Hermione reacts as if she is on fire, we will have to decide how to treat her.

It is possible that she has residual damage to her central nervous system, a thought I find most disturbing. I should not have listened to her protestations when I wanted to get her back into the water and give her the Blood Cleansing potion immediately.

If there should ever be a next time, may all the powers that be forbid, I will trust my instincts and the hell with everything else.

Watching her surreptitiously, I notice her color is better. Compared to yesterday, she is certainly much more alert and is back to her normal intellectual functioning. Molly has moved into headquarters for the duration to play chaperone and take care of Hermione. Of course, Molly is feeding her and Hermione is up and moving around. Between being mothered, fed, and having the companionship of friends and adopted family, Hermione's physical and emotional needs are being met for a change.

It is very unlike how it was in previous months when Hermione tried so desperately to hide how very poorly she was functioning.

I will confess to being grateful my confrontation with Hermione about her solitary visits to the cemetery happened before this crisis. None of us seemed to realize how badly she was affected by her inability to cope with grief. From her description, she was in a cycle of sleep deprivation brought on by nightmares, compounded by a loss of appetite. I believe she was slipping into a serious state of depression.

According to our paired journal entries, the problem lessened after our session at the cemetery. I am inordinately pleased with myself for having helped her. The resolution of emotional issues is hardly my forte, being more inclined to be their cause rather than their solution.

Her health is better for the two weeks of eating and sleeping before the Crucio potion exploded in her hand. She would have been far worse off had she still been so debilitated.

There is much Hermione does not seem to remember about the time she was ill. Most significantly, she has said nothing about seeing or hearing her parents. Her friends seem to have some sort of unstated agreement that none of them will bring it up to her. They choose to believe Hermione simply hallucinated the whole thing.

They do not know the whole story of just how badly Hermione's guilt over her parents' murders has affected her for more than a year. If not for my own experience of feeling my mother's hand on my wrist as I stood before the Mirror of S'deen, I too might dismiss the whole thing as an hallucination.

In that brief moment when I felt her hand on my wrist and saw her lips forming the words "I love you, I forgive you," my life changed. Mother was there, not just an image in the mirror.

During the hours of crisis when Hermione was much too close to crossing over herself, her parents must have come back and communicated with their daughter. At the time, Hermione was agitated and told them she was sorry she had failed to save them. Then she quieted and slept peacefully for a few hours. Something must have happened. Surely she heard her parents forgive her just as my mother forgave me.

Perhaps Hermione is not quite ready to remember. I will wait a while and see if she recalls it on her own.

There has been no repeat of our rather surprisingly passionate embrace and kiss or any opportunity to talk about what it might mean. Molly's hovering presence has given us not a single moment alone.

I know what it means to me. I care about her more than I realized or ever intended to. Before she arrived, I planned to talk to her about the necessity of avoiding a relationship of the kind evidenced by our kiss. All of that changed when I saw her lying on the floor of the potions storage room surrounded by shards of blue and brown glass. The hours when it was touch and go were torture. My best effort could very easily not have been enough to save her had any of us been wrong about her treatment at any step.

I look down at my hands. In my speech to the First Years, I have claimed to be capable of teaching them to create potions that can even _stopper death_. My hands know how to chop, dice, pulverize, and all of the other motions necessary to brew the finest healing potions. I know the motions so well, I need not think of them as my hands do the work.

I flex my fingers. There is a new scar from a magically healed cut on the side of my left index finger from when I miscalculated how fast I was chopping the manjistha for the Blood Cleansing potion. My concentration slipped as I worked and I nearly contaminated the herb with my own blood.

Each moment that passed during the night was a battle with my own fears. The thought that I might lose Hermione kept me at her side all through the day and into the night. I left her only to brew or to cool down sufficiently to continue to function in the heat of her sickroom. Even when she was out of danger, I stayed because I knew my presence was comforting to her.

This is more than just caring. It is time for me to acknowledge that this is ….

"Severus, would you like some tea?" asks Remus, interrupting my reverie.

I look up and see the tall werewolf standing next to my chair with two mugs in his hands. How long has he been standing there while I have been staring at Hermione, oblivious to everything else around me? I am losing my touch, survival skills very necessary to staying alive among the Death Eaters.

"Hello, Remus," says Hermione; her head rises as she abandons the textbook she is reading and sets it aside.

"Thank you," I reply, reaching out for the mug he offers.

"You're looking much better today," says Remus as he looks at Hermione. "You've got some color. Yesterday, you were almost as pale as the Potions Master here."

"Hmph," is my reply.

"I do feel much better," says Hermione, her features animated. "I've got some energy today. I would like to get outside to take a walk and get some fresh air if I didn't have to go around wrapped up in blankets."

"Madame Pomfrey will be here soon," says Molly, joining our little conversation group. "We'll see if you can tolerate warming charms. If you can, we'll go outside for a while tomorrow. She might let me take you home and you can sit in the garden. The tulips are out."

I have been able to see her every day since Sunday due to the need to monitor her condition. If she returns to the Burrow, it will be noticed if I visit. Perhaps a visit could be disguised by the need to discuss our project.

By this time, there is considerable noise coming from the kitchen. The Order members are arriving a few at a time.

It is almost 6 pm before Poppy arrives with Albus. Poppy goes upstairs with Hermione and Molly to give Hermione a thorough examination. If Poppy says she is fit, the last issue will be whether or not Hermione can tolerate a warming charm. Given her sensitivity to cold, she will need to use magic to warm herself for at least the next month. Otherwise, she will be walking around in winter weight robes this summer.

Molly waves to me from the stairway so that I might participate in the test. Remus follows after me.

Hermione is sitting on the bed, laughing at something Poppy has said. She looks at me as I stand in the doorway and offers a delighted smile.

"I've been declared fit to return to _daily life as tolerated_," says a very cheerful Hermione.

"As tolerated, Hermione," reiterates Poppy. "I do not want you to wear yourself out. Your body has been through a good deal of stress and you should not assume you can return to a normal level of activity, quite yet."

"This is good news, Hermione," I tell her. But the last part of the assessment has not been done.

"Are you ready to have us attempt a warming charm, Hermione?" asks Poppy.

Hermione pales. One of the things she remembers clearly from her illness is when she felt she was being burned alive by the warming charm I cast to alleviate her sense of extreme cold. She squares her shoulders.

"I'm ready."

"Very well," says Poppy. "I believe you used Tepidus, Severus?"

"Yes," I reply. "Would you like me to cast the charm while you take readings?"

"A good suggestion," replies Poppy. She moves her wand over Hermione and watches as numbers and sigils form in the air above her."

I raise my wand with only a moment's hesitation. The last thing I want is to subject Hermione to a repeat of the agony she experienced the last time I cast a warming charm over her.

"_Tepidus_."

We all wait, the tension in the room palpable.

Hermione pauses, nods, and smiles, "I feel warmer," she says. "There was a little bit of a tingle at first, but no burning sensation." Her smile turns into a grin. "I feel much more comfortable. Thank you, Severus."

Molly sits down on the bed and draws Hermione into a joyful hug. Hermione's arms go around her honorary mother and the two women laugh with delight. I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn my head to see Remus there.

"Well done, Severus," he says quietly. "I think this one comes pretty close to pulling off a miracle."

I cannot think of an answer to such a statement.

Remus claps me on the shoulder and announces; "Shall we go downstairs and share the good news? The meeting will be starting shortly."

"By all means," says Poppy.

We join the group in the parlor, which has been magically enlarged for the evening. Hermione, minus the afghans and shawls she has been wearing for the last few days, joins the group and is caught up in a hug by Potter. Mr. Weasley the younger is not present, apparently on duty tonight.

Dora Tonks waves to Remus who crosses the room to give her a quick kiss before assuming his regular place in the rocking chair. Dora plants herself on the floor next to him. Mad-Eye has arrived and is talking to Molly who just gave Arthur an update on Hermione. Arthur looks my way and gives an appreciative nod, which I return.

Bill has arrived with Fred and George in tow. They take seats next to Charlie, clearly surprised to see him present. The irrepressible twins seem to comprehend the seriousness of being invited to this particular meeting. I have never seen them so subdued.

Minerva is sitting in one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace. Poppy and Albus seat themselves in the remaining two, talking quietly between themselves. Kingsley Shacklebolt pulls one of the chairs from the dining room and hands it to me. He brings another for himself and we sit down.

Alethea Wimpole, the Order's secret connection to the Minister Bones' office is here tonight. Sitting next to her is Winston Doolittle, officially from the Ministry's Office of the Exchequer and in reality an Unspeakable with excellent connections in the world of wizarding commerce.

Last to arrive is someone I have not seen in many years. Chester Sommersby was Albus' master strategist during the Rasputin and Grindelwald Wars. A good thirty years older than Albus, the wizard looks truly ancient with long wisps of sparse hair framing a wizened face and faded blue eyes. The man retired decades ago and has lived as a recluse ever since. Albus must have used some very persuasive arguments to get Sommersby to take an active role in this war.

These are important or strategically chosen members of the Order.

I look to Hermione again as she sits between Molly and Potter on the sofa. She turns her head and her eyes meet mine for a moment. She gives the slightest hint of a smile and for one instant we are alone in the room. Our attention returns to the meeting when Albus starts to speak.

"My dear friends," says Albus, lacking only the proper red hat to look like a Cardinal in his scarlet robes. "It has been a long time since I have stood in such esteemed company with good news to share. Of all of the members of the Order, each of you was invited here tonight to participate in the highest level and most secret project since we disbanded after the Dark Lord's disappearance in 1981.

"It is an expression of my personal faith in each of you that you are here. I trust each of you to keep everything you hear tonight in complete confidence as you swore to do when you joined the Order."

Albus looks pointedly at the Weasley twins and continues.

"Six months ago, in consultation with members of the inner circle of the Order, we decided to take this war with the Dark Lord in new directions. We decided to look for the means to stop fighting a defensive war and take the offense. The key to making our strategy work lies in finding a weapon or weapons capable of working against Tom Riddle since he created a new body for himself. Because of events of the last few days, it appears we have identified the beginnings of such a weapon. I call upon Professor Snape to explain to all of you the nature of this discovery."

The faces of the Order members turn to me as I rise and take Albus' spot beside the fireplace.

"On Saturday, we very nearly lost a member of the Order when a jar containing Lucrezia Borgia's topical Crucio potion exploded in Hermione Granger's hand." I pause as those who did not know of this look at Hermione and talk among themselves. "I will not go into the details of Miss Granger's experience, but in a display of utterly Gryffindor courage or perhaps foolhardiness, she risked her life to give us time to discover which of the ingredients in the potion caused her magic to be completely suppressed."

Hermione gives me another ghost of a smile. She understands that I am teasing. However, there is uproar all around me as Order members consider the implications of the existence of a magical suppressant.

The high-pitched voice of Chester Sommersby breaks through the noise and chatter.

"I, for one, would appreciate an explanation as to how you concluded this young lady's magic was suppressed? Those of us here who have experienced Crucio first hand know that the all-consuming pain prevents the victim from having sufficient focus to cast even the simplest charm."

"The identification of the magic suppressant evolved out of one of the Order's most secret discoveries, Chester," interrupts Albus. "Since last autumn, Professor Snape and Miss Granger have worked together to develop a treatment for the effects of the Cruciatus curse. I am pleased to report they met with success and developed a treatment which appears to eliminate the pain and muscle spasms of Crucio within ten minutes of beginning the treatment."

I explain further, "To date, four individuals have received this treatment. I was the first and preceded the testing of the theory. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred Weasley, and Hermione Granger each received the treatment and were tested after the pain of Crucio was eliminated. Neither Shacklebolt nor Weasley could use magic during the first minutes after the pain was gone. In Miss Granger's case, the Crucio was not due to the curse, but from exposure to the topical Crucio potion. She experienced a longer-lasting loss of magic than any of us who were cursed. We were able to identify which ingredient in the potion appeared to be associated with the loss of magic."

"Chester," adds Poppy, "I was there at the time along with Minerva and some other members of the Order. We are confident that our conclusion is correct."

Sommersby gives Poppy a careful look, judging her veracity.

"Very well," he answers tersely. "For sake of argument, I will accept this for now. However, if we are going to take on Tom Riddle based on this magic suppressant I will want to see more proof."

"We fully intend to test this weapon thoroughly before taking it to the field," replies Albus. "Professor Snape has already outlined his research protocol and I find it quite thorough. I am not readily convinced, Chester. We would not be here tonight if I did not believe we have a good chance of success here."

"I shall personally hold you to it," replies Sommersby with a rather disrespectful snort.

Apparently this type of response is typical of Chester Sommersby. Even paranoid Mad-Eye Moody chuckles along with Minerva and Poppy.

Albus looks around the room, serious again.

"It is time to move into the development stage for our weapon and our strategies for using it. Each of you will have at least one role to play in this work. I have considered each of your strengths and am assigning you to one or more teams.

"The first team will focus on weapons development. Professor Snape will serve as coordinator. Members will include: Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Others may be brought onto the team for specific tasks.

"The second team will focus on strategy. Your primary question will be how can we use this weapon to best effect? Remus Lupin will serve as coordinator. Members will include: Chester Sommersby, Severus Snape, Bill Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alethea Wimpole, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks and Minerva McGonagall.

"The third team will look to resources. To produce this weapon will likely require obtaining needed supplies through legal and illegal means. The committee will address issues of financial resources as well. Winston Doolittle will serve as coordinator. Members will include: Minerva McGonagall, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks and Charlie Weasley. I believe Winston has some other Order members in mind to bring on board as well.

"I will serve as a member of all teams and will attend as many meetings as I am able. Tonight, we will consider this to be the first meeting of the weapons development team, but I wish all of you to stay so you might hear in greater detail what has been planned so far."

The Order members shift about and accept refills of tea and coffee as they settle in for the duration. I launch into a detailed explanation of the Cruciatus treatment and the discovery of the magic suppressant qualities of the miniature Swedish short snout dragon firebladder extract. It is a good half hour later before we come down to the business of how it can be utilized as a weapon.

"What we are hoping to do," says Hermione, "is combine the firebladder extract with a second substance with addictive properties to it. That way we can suppress Riddle's magical capabilities while addicting him to the serum that accomplishes it. We have reason to believe that the biological mechanism which brings about addiction also suppresses magic."

"Why not just kill him outright?" asks Madame Wimpole. "Surely there is a means of poisoning him once you've taken away his magic?"

"I think I know the answer to that," says Potter, who has been unusually quiet up until now. "When Riddle went after the Philosopher's Stone during my First Year at Hogwarts, he somehow took up residence in Professor Quirrell's body. When Quirrell took off his turban, I saw Riddle's face on the back of his head. When Quirrell couldn't do what the Dark Lord wanted, his body was destroyed to ashes. I saw Riddle leave Quirrell's body. He looked like some sort of thick smoke or mist, almost like a ghost."

Potter looks to me. "I think what you and Hermione are saying is that we shouldn't kill the body he's created for himself, because he'll turn into that smoke thing again and escape. Ten or twenty years from now, we'll have to go through this all over again because he'll find another body to inhabit."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," I reply.

That remark has the Order members leaning back in their chairs, deep in thought. For years, we have talked about killing Voldemort. Now, they are thinking about the possibility that we should not kill him at all if we truly cannot kill the whole creature that he is. I continue.

"We are looking to this weapon to stop, to neutralize the Dark Lord. Once we have him in custody and unable to strike out at us magically, we can pursue looking for ways to put a permanent end to him. The reality is that we do not know what Riddle has done to himself to create the form he is in. We do not know what will kill his body and this other form Potter saw when Riddle left Quirrell's body."

"How long can he survive in this addicted state?" asks Molly.

"We really have no way of knowing," answers Hermione.

"Professor," interrupts George, "Do you have any ideas about what kind of addictive substance you want to try?"

"Hermione and I met this morning to discuss this," I reply. "In researching the subject, she found indications that a belladonna derivative had this effect on alchemists who experimented with it centuries ago. It may also have some magic suppressant properties. We will pursue this investigation further." I nod to Fred who raised his hand as if we were back in my classroom.

"What about compounds developed by Muggles?" he asks. "Forms of cocaine, heroin, and cannibis are a real problem in Muggle society."

"We will consider all possibilities," I reply, "But the issue is complicated by the reptilian qualities of the Dark Lord's body. We must find something addictive to snakes."

Potter looks at me with an annoying triumphant grin on his face.

"I'll be more than happy to help with that part of the research, Professor," he says, provoking a laugh around the room. "I knew being a Parselmouth would turn out to be useful someday."

"Your offer is accepted, Mr. Potter," I reply most graciously. Discussion on the topic continues for a while longer when Hermione brings up an important question to Charlie Weasley.

"Now that we know there is a magic suppressant in the firebladder extract from the miniature Swedish short snout dragon, will we be able to get a good supply of it?" she asks.

"We've got a nice little colony of them in a preserve up in Lapland," replies Charlie. "There's not much call for their firebladder extract, so I don't think there'll be a problem. Because of their size, it doesn't take ten wizards stunning them to get the extract. I've only done the extraction myself a few times, but it isn't hard compared to wrangling a standard sized Swedish short snout."

"How big are they?" asks Hermione.

"About the size of a sheep with about a fifteen foot wingspan," replies Charlie. "The regulars can have a fifty to sixty foot wingspan," Charlie gives her an amused smile. "The wizard who bred the miniatures back about 1300 had the idea they might be domesticated as pets."

"Pets?" snorts Minerva. "That seems a foolish notion."

"That's probably what the wizard thought right about the time his breeding stock ate him," replies Charlie, laughing.

Minerva looks like she just tasted something very sour.

"Would it be feasible to start a colony in another location?" asks Albus, twinkling, "Perhaps in Canada?"

"Certainly, Headmaster," says Charlie, "There's places in northern Canada that would be perfect for them. They're perfectly happy living in the Arctic Circle. There's not many people up there, which helps a lot."

"It will be something to consider," replies Albus. He rises to take over the meeting again.

"I thank all of you for being here tonight," he says in his best Headmaster voice. "We have much work to do. Each of you has your assignment and your team coordinator will be in touch with you about your next meeting. There are a few of you I need to speak with before you leave. Chester, Minerva, Severus, Remus, Bill, Arthur, Hermione and Poppy, if you would please remain."

Farewells are bid as the others depart. Potter goes upstairs to his room, doubtlessly to dig out a pair of extendable ears. Those of us who remain resume our seats in the parlor. Albus accepts a cup of tea from Poppy and takes his seat in the wingback chair.

"A few weeks ago, I had a most interesting visit with a wizard from the United States," says Albus, looking at us over his half moon glasses, "A wizard by name of Daniel Schuler."

Hermione looks startled and surprised. I suspect I look much the same.

"Mr. Schuler?" Hermione sputters, "Anita's father?"

"The very same," replies Albus, "A most interesting gentleman who has made us a most interesting offer." He leans back and crosses his fingers, resting them on his chest. "Mr. Schuler offers us an alliance of sorts."

"Explain this alliance," demands Sommersby, clearly suspicious.

"Mr. Schuler is a man of considerable wealth and power, and not just in the wizarding world. He and his associates are fully aware of what is at stake in Britain. If the Dark Lord is not stopped here, he will move onto Europe and eventually the United States. Mr. Schuler and the people he represents wish to see the Dark Lord stopped here." Albus looks intently at Hermione. "Mr. Schuler alludes to having a remarkable level of skill in Arithmancy. Do you know if this is so?"

Hermione looks pensive and answers, "I believe so." She looks at Sommersby. "Mr. Schuler has two children, both attending Avalon College. Anita is my next-door neighbor in the hall of residence. I dated her brother Adam for a few months during the autumn. Both of them have alluded to their father's talent in Arithmancy. They both describe him as a business genius who uses Arithmancy to guide business decisions. He must be successful at it. He's one of the wealthiest people in the United States."

Albus nods as Hermione talks about the Schulers. I was aware she dated Adam Schuler from some remarks Draco has made. She prefers my company to that of the son of an American billionaire? I am very pleased and careful not to show it.

"Apparently Mr. Schuler has done an Arithmantic analysis of our situation and believes there will be a critical juncture this summer or early autumn," says Albus.

"This summer?" I muse, "Our weapon could very well be ready in the summer."

"Or the Dark Lord may be planning something for the summer," points out Sommersby.

"More likely, both are true and there may be an intersection of events," states Albus. "But that brings us to something else I wish to discuss. Mr. Schuler has offered us resources."

"Of what kind?" asks Arthur.

"Technical assistance," replies Albus, "and financial if we need it."

"One of the professors at Avalon offered to help with research if we needed it," says Hermione. "In some ways, he has already helped. I got the idea of looking into addiction from one of his lectures." She looks at me. "This could be a real help. If certain instructors at Avalon are willing to provide information and technical knowledge we don't have, we could save a lot of time."

"Would they be willing to provide assistance without knowing specifically how it will be used?" I ask.

"A question to ask," says Albus, "and I would like to pursue this further. Initial correspondence has taken place between Mr. Schuler and myself. He is willing to send me a report on his Arithmantic projections, but we require the utmost security for such correspondence and I am unwilling to entrust commercial enterprises with it."

Albus looks meaningfully at Hermione.

"Poppy," says Albus, "how is Hermione's health?"

"Hermione has made steady improvement since Sunday," says Poppy as she turns to Hermione, "You will need to pace yourself and not overdo it. Give yourself time to regain your stamina."

Poppy looks back at Albus, "This evening we determined that Hermione can tolerate warming charms to help her with the residual sensitivity to cold. She should be able to return to the college on Sunday. That is the end of your Easter holiday, isn't it Hermione?"

"It is," replies Hermione. "I'll be glad to carry correspondence back and forth during my visits home."

"What are your plans for this summer?" inquires Albus in his deceptively casual manner.

Albus is planning something. Twenty years of dealing with his machinations make that quite clear.

"I was thinking of taking a summer class on statistical analysis," replies Hermione, "They are offering one at the Muggle college two towns over from the Burrow. The credits will transfer to Avalon."

"Might I impose on you to take your class at Avalon?" requests Albus, sounding eminently reasonable.

Hermione looks indecisive. We had not discussed this, but I believe after the difficult year she has had, she wanted to stay close to her friends and adopted family this summer. In a gesture I have come to recognize as steeling herself for something difficult, she sits up straighter and squares her shoulders.

"Of course, Headmaster," she replies, "I'm glad to help in any way I can."

Albus is obviously delighted. He beams at Hermione. I am _not_ pleased with his manipulation of her plans.

"Very good, Hermione," he says, "Mr. Schuler recommended using you as a courier and I certainly agree with his recommendation. We will need to set things up so you can travel back and forth between Hogwarts and Chicago on a regular basis. I have an idea for that if I can solicit Bill's cooperation."

Bill looks up, surprised and not a little bit suspicious.

"What did you have in mind, Albus?" asks Bill.

"If you and Hermione are agreeable, I would like you to engage in a bit of playacting to provide a cover for Hermione to make trips back to the Burrow and Hogwarts. It would also allow you to travel to Chicago on a regular basis," says Albus.

I feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

"If the two of you appear to be a courting couple, no one will question the trips," announces Albus, with a self-satisfied smirk. "Neither of you are courting anyone else at this time, are you?"

_The bastard_.

Hermione and Bill are looking at each other, flummoxed. Hermione cannot say anything about what exists between us. There is not a person in this room who would understand.

The _bloody _bastard.

Bill recovers first and gives Hermione a reassuring smile. She looks uncertain, but smiles back.

"Of course, Albus," says Bill, "Hermione and I can make it look like we're involved. It will give me a chance to get to know my newest little sister better. Besides, I've always wanted to see Chicago."

Arthur starts coughing and Bill pounds him on the back.

Hermione sneaks a quick look in my direction and then smiles back at Bill.

"I've never had a big brother before," she says, following Bill's lead. "Both Ron and Harry are younger than I am. This could be fun. I'd really enjoy showing someone from home around Chicago. There are some really great museums and restaurants."

I am undecided if I should feel relieved.

Albus looks confused.

_Good_. The bastard.

I notice Poppy and Minerva exchanging what appears to be The Look. The Look usually precedes the two witches giving Albus hell.

Certainly Poppy and Minerva realize Bill would be all wrong for Hermione. He is much too handsome.

Oh, yes. Tall, muscular, with features a Muggle actor would envy. Long red hair, an earring and a tendency to wear leather pants.

Well-liked by everyone and intelligent to boot.

Charming.

_Shit_.

-------------------------

Author's notes:

Manjistha is considered an important blood purifier in Ayurvedic medicine.

Thanks to Jocemum for the commas and Julia for the apostrophes.. I find the proper use of commas and apostrophes confusing. Maybe I'll get it by the time I post the epilogue

Thanks to all my reviewers: Siren 34, Valour01, Nottbook, Arime Setta, SquigglesCandi, Millenia2, Ami Mizuno1, Nottbook (again),AnokiNantaris, GaiaAthena, SquigglesCandie (again), Lyndie578, Rinny 08, Darque Hart, Lucyferina, Keket Amunet, Hebi R., Erika Butler, Starbridge, T wrecks, Ebbe04, Droxy, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Nottbook (again), Angel-Tears-16, Jagsgurl15, Heath321, Karla Marie, Jade2099, Amsev, Onataha1, SquigglesCandie (again), Ocayfine, Mags1, Koliber, Karen Detroit, Duj, Notwritten, Andi-Scribbles, Bundles-'o-joy, Nottbook (again), Humbuggirl, Wampelampe, Erytha, F75, Evilmastermind666, Dragonsandbookworms, SquigglesCandi, Sweety-pie5445, Alinora, Me613, Mugglemomof3, A Mistress Malfoy, Annie Talbot, Skybluheaven, Selinabln, Tigris, HPWylie and Nottbook.


	63. Chapter 63

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun as I wait along with everyone else for July 21st and proof that Severus Snape is one of the good guys.

Thank you to Julia for her extensive suggestions for this chapter.

-------------------------  
Albus  
April 7th, 1999

"Whatever were you thinking, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?" spat Poppy Pomfrey the moment the bedroom door closed in the Headmaster's quarters.

In a whirl of gray skirts and magic, her hairpins floated to the vanity as they often did at the end of the day. Her hair tumbled down to her hips, dark brown streaked with white. In the flickering light from the candles and fireplace, her nose looked abnormally long and particularly witch-like as she extended her arm and pointed her index finger dangerously close to Albus Dumbledore's nose.

There was a deadly Look in her eyes.

For a moment, Albus was very grateful Poppy had never cast Avada Kedavra.

"If you are alluding to the arrangement of having Bill and Hermione as couriers, it makes perfect sense," he replied carefully.

"You are throwing them together in the hope something will come of it," insisted Poppy, glowering.

"And what would be wrong with that?" replied Albus, sounding innocent. "They are two perfectly nice, intelligent young people who could be very good for each other. You said yourself that Hermione seemed lonely."

"And where does this leave Severus in this cozy little picture you've painted?" she retorted.

"What does Severus have to do with any of this?" asked Albus in confusion. "Granted, this may take a little of her time away from working with him, but they should still have plenty of time for their research."

Hands on her hips, Poppy stalked Albus as he backed up against the fireplace.

"Have you been paying any attention at all?" she hissed. "Are you telling me you haven't noticed any part of the little romance going on down in the cellar potions lab?"

Albus looked mystified. Then confused. Finally, light dawned on him.

"Are you suggesting there is something going on between Hermione and _Severus_?"

"I most certainly am," snorted Poppy, "and I am quite delighted about it."

Albus looked and felt gob-smacked.

"Surely you cannot approve of this?" he demanded.

"Can and do," she retorted. "I suspect things are in the early stages and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if Severus has only recently come to realize it himself. Given that summons to the Ministry of Magic, you weren't there when Hermione was ill. You didn't see how he acted. He would have fed his wand hand to a manticore if it would have helped to heal her. I've never before seen Severus behave the way he did over her. I kept giving him things to do to keep him busy, so he could feel like he was taking care of her. He barely left her side the whole night, except when he was brewing."

"My dear," sputtered Albus, "I do not question your observational skills. Surely you cannot think this is a good thing. I care very much for Severus, but he was a Death Eater and at times in his life lived up to their standards. He has done terrible things and seen worse. Hermione is a kind-hearted innocent. She could never be a suitable match for such a man."

"Don't you think that's for her to decide?" snapped Poppy, "I think she's a young woman of considerable common sense. She has looked beneath the surface and has seen the man inside. If she feels he's worth having, he is a very lucky man."

"I cannot believe I am arguing this point with you," spouted Albus. "Such a romance is inappropriate. She was his student not even a year ago. The age difference alone is insupportable."

Poppy's temper flared again. The level of magical energy in the room increased dramatically and Albus felt goosebumps on the back of his neck.

"Age difference?" she stormed. "Where do you get off saying their age difference is an issue? Would you care to recall how old I was when we had our weekend in Paris?"

"Erm," mumbled Albus, "About twenty-five."

"I was twenty-four years old," she replied, poking her finger into the center of his chest to make her point. "And just how old were you, at the time?"

"I believe I was, oh, maybe seventy".

"You were seventy-two," insisted Poppy. "Severus and Hermione have a twenty year age difference. Ours is forty-eight years."

"Our situation was totally different," insisted Albus in righteous indignation, "You were already a widow and had completed your Nursing Sister's training. You were an adult."

"I think what Hermione has gone through in the last year makes her an adult," stated Poppy firmly. "I know you too well, Albus. You're objecting to the idea they might have sex. You are a prude."

"Poppy," said Albus tersely, "there are questions I have never asked Severus for fear of what the answer might be. You know something of Death Eater practices."

"Stuff and nonsense," argued Poppy. "You know as well as I do that Severus has claimed impotence to keep from being required to participate in the worst that they do. I entered that information into his medical record almost twenty years ago in case the wrong person ever took a look at his records."

Poppy's finger was now pointed at the middle of Albus' face.

"You are trying to deny Severus a normal healthy relationship that could offer normal healthy sex. Severus has made it possible for you to have a sex life and you are denying him the same chance."

"I have no idea what you mean, Poppy Pomfrey," huffed Albus, offended.

"I have been a Mediwitch since 1915, Albus Dumbledore," she said stiffly. "I may treat children most of the time but that doesn't mean I am unaware of the health issues faced by most wizards over one hundred and thirty years of age.

"Every year on your birthday, Severus gives you a box with fifty-two little blue vials in it. If it weren't for Severus' birthday present, that talleywhacker of yours would only be good for decorative effect."

"Those vials contain vitamin tonic," snapped Albus.

"Nonsense," snorted Poppy, "Those are amazingly potent vitamins. They seem to go directly to your groin causing a temporary growth spurt."

"You are being crude," he said accusingly.

"You are being dishonest," she retorted scathingly.

Albus plopped down in his armchair in front of the fireplace. The look on his face came suspiciously close to a pout. "Why have you not told me of this before?"

"Quite honestly, because we thought you would disapprove and interfere," she replied.

"_We?_"

"There are a few of us who noticed."

"_Who?_"

"Minerva, Remus, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Dora, and myself."

"So, everyone who is regularly at headquarters except for Ronald, Harry, and I. So much for my reputation for omniscience," muttered Albus to himself. He looked up at Poppy. "Arthur and Molly approve?"

"Not at first," replied Poppy, "but once we had a chance to talk it over, they agreed not to interfere and to give it some time. After Hermione's injury and seeing Severus' reaction, no one seems to have any doubts about how much Severus cares for her or how he would treat her."

"Bill knows this?"

"Why do you think he emphasized how much he thinks of Hermione as a sister?" sighed Poppy. "Severus has always been a mass of insecurity where women are concerned. If he thinks Bill Weasley is competition for Hermione's affections, he's likely to withdraw. At this point, I think that would break both their hearts. Bill doesn't want to see that happen."

"Albus," she added coaxingly, "do you know that Severus removed his frock coat and neck cloth while he was in her sickroom? It was so hot in there, he unbuttoned his collar. Everyone who went in or out of the sickroom saw the scar on his neck. That includes Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, and the twins. If that isn't love, I have no idea what is."

Albus looked at Poppy in wonder. Never had he known Severus to allow anyone to see that scar, except on occasions when Poppy had undressed him for medical treatment. During most of those, Severus was unconscious.

"What makes you so certain Hermione returns Severus' feelings?"

"You weren't there when she was hurt," continued Poppy, "You didn't see how she reacted to his presence. When I arrived, they were wrapped up in blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace. She was holding onto him in her sleep. When he tried to release her so Molly could take his place, she didn't want to let him go. I was with her the whole night. When Severus was in the room, Hermione was more at ease. She finds his presence reassuring."

Albus shook his head in amazement.

"I never thought I would hear anyone describe Severus as reassuring," he muttered. "Most people would feel more comfortable around a lethifold."

"Actually, I think there's more than one boggart wandering about with Professor Snape's face."

"Probably a better analogy," admitted Albus. He stroked his beard pensively. "In all good conscience, I cannot say I approve. I question how healthy a relationship between Severus and Hermione could possibly be."

"All I ask is that you not interfere," said Poppy, "and quit throwing Bill Weasley at Hermione."

"But, I need them both to act as couriers," said Albus. "I must be able to send confidential information to Daniel Schuler via trusted hands. The paired journals we are using are insufficient when any quantities of materials are sent between us. The two of them are ideal for this purpose and the cover story of a courtship between them will convince anyone who might question their travel between Chicago and Hogwarts."

"Then accept the reality that it is an act and not an actual courtship," countered Poppy. "Most important, don't push it in front of Severus or put them in a position where they are expected to behave like an actual couple."

Poppy stood over Albus and gave him a severe look. "I love you, Albus. I also know you are quite capable of arranging things to suit yourself. At the most fundamental level Severus is a good man who has denied himself many things most men want out of life in order to serve our cause. If he has a chance to have some of those things now, none of us should stand in his way. He might not live through this war. Let him have his chance at happiness."

Albus allowed himself to look reluctantly defeated.

"Very well," said Albus, "I will refrain from throwing Bill at Hermione, as you have described it."

Poppy smiled warmly. She reached out and removed Albus' hat and tossed it in the general direction of the vanity. Her hands brushed back his long white hair and she leaned down and kissed him.

Albus put his arms around her and drew her closer. He shifted his head and sucked gently at her lower lip. Her breath hitched and she allowed herself to be guided across the room and pulled down on the bed. Albus looked down at his partner of so many years, her eyes shut and her lips parted in invitation. Another kiss and her hands twined into his hair.

"Perhaps you should get one of those blue vials?" she murmured.

Albus chuckled and rose from the bed to do precisely that. Opening the warded cabinet, he took a moment to consider the promise he had just made to Poppy.

He would not throw Bill Weasley at Hermione Granger. That would require a levitation charm, and so would be far too obvious. However, in his carefully considered opinion, Hermione would be much happier with Bill Weasley than the impossibly complicated and dark Severus Snape. Besides, if Severus had a future, it would be in the United States at Avalon College. Albus needed Hermione at Hogwarts to sustain the quality of potions instruction that was so much a part of Hogwart's reputation.

He had not promised Poppy that he would refrain from manipulating the situation. He would have to be very careful, very subtle, but with continual exposure to each other under the proper circumstances, he could still have the happy ending he wanted.

Albus returned to the bed, blue vial of vitamin tonic in hand. Poppy took it from him and popped the cork. In the spirit of cooperation, Albus opened his mouth and allowed her to pour it on his tongue. He swallowed and smiled.

------------------------  
Severus  
After midnight

She looks pretty in the moonlight. I cannot help but notice how lovely her hair is in the soft silver light. Arthur holds out his hand to her and she takes it. She moves into a hug with her adopted father so that he can apparate both of them back to the Burrow.

Poppy will not yet allow her to self-apparate. I am pleased that she is well enough to go home. At least she will have a few more days to recover before she must return to Chicago.

She smiles at me and they both disappear.

I am ready to depart as I hear the back door open.

"Severus," calls Bill, "Wait a minute, I want to talk to you before you leave."

I turn around. I am resisting the urge to sneer.

"It is rather late for social pleasantries," I reply coldly.

"Could you come back inside for a minute?" pleads Bill. "You and Remus have been dealing with Albus a lot longer than I have and I need your advice on how to handle him. This matchmaking business he's trying to pull is really out of line."

Perhaps, I could spare a few minutes after all.

I return to the sofa and accept the snifter of brandy offered by Remus. Remus takes his usual seat in the rocking chair. Bill sits in the armchair previously occupied by Albus.

"I need some advice on how to deal with Albus," says Bill earnestly. "While I can see the necessity of Hermione and me serving as couriers, this is a blatant attempt at matchmaking. Hermione and I have never seen each other in that kind of light. You had to see how uncomfortable she was when he suggested it."

"I know what you mean," says Remus, looking at Bill. "No offense, but I don't think you're her type."

"Not at all," says Bill in a rather good-natured manner. "Hermione is a terrific person, but our interests are very different. I'll talk to her tomorrow and get her take on it. From her reaction, I think she'll agree. I don't think she wants Albus planning out her future anymore than I do."

"Albus is notorious for trying to match people up," chuckles Remus. "Severus, do you remember when he tried pairing up Moody and Minerva?"

"Almost as successful as his efforts to partner Aberforth with Arabella Figg," I reply with a smirk.

"Ah, yes," replies Remus, "That one ended in violence. What was it she threw at him when they had dinner?"

"A bowl of salad, I think," I reply, "She suggested he take it to his real girlfriend for a snack."

"So, what do I do to keep Albus from matchmaking?" asks Bill.

"I do not think you can keep him from trying," I tell him.

"I agree," says Remus, "Albus is nothing if not persistent. I think you and Hermione will have to wait him out."

"If he sees he is unsuccessful over a period of time, he will eventually give it up," I add.

"He's very patient," nods Remus, "It will take some time. You and Hermione need to emphasize how much you enjoy your brother and sister relationship."

"Be very consistent about that," I insist.

Not to admit that I have a vested interest in the matter.

"You're right," says Remus, looking at me, "If Albus sees any inconsistency at all, he'll take it as evidence he is succeeding. He'll just be more patient."

"So the plan is that Hermione and I function as couriers, emphasize how much we're enjoying each other's company as big brother and little sister, and make sure everyone knows the courtship is strictly a cover," says Bill.

"That's it," says Remus.

I nod in agreement. "Gentlemen, if our business is concluded I should like to return to Hogwarts and seek out my bed."

"I'll walk back with you, if you don't mind," asks Bill. "You've been very helpful. I appreciate you sharing your years of experience in dealing with Albus' manipulations."

"Albus is usually very determined to get his own way in most matters," I reply. "Fortunately, he was placed in Gryffindor and is usually obvious in his manipulations. If he had come through Slytherin, he would be more subtle and likely more successful."

This gains a laugh from Bill and Remus.

The apparition and walk back to the castle is actually pleasant under the circumstances. Bill can be very good company. Especially when he talks extensively about how delightful it is to have a second sister and how overwhelmed he gets by her intellect.

-----------------------------  
Severus  
Before dawn

I cannot fall asleep. I keep thinking about Hermione and our situation. I never thought in all my life I would have a situation like this to deal with.

It is a few hours from dawn and I am sitting on the bench atop the Astronomy Tower where Hermione and I talked a month after her parents were murdered. For all that I was her teacher for six years before that night; I had never really talked with her before.

Not that I was ever inclined to have meaningful conversations with students. She was nothing more to me than an exceptionally bright annoyance. She had potential to be brilliant in Potions and I thought it a waste that she might be denied the chance.

I did not realize how important that first conversation would turn out to be. The events of the last year and a half have changed everything.

I thought I would always be alone. Nothing in my past gave me reason to think there would ever be anyone who would matter to me as she does. That I matter to her is nothing less than a miracle. I will not turn my back on such a gift.

To feel so much for anyone is foreign to me. I care about Minerva, Lucius, and Albus but this is so different. Even what I felt for Lily all those years ago in my youth pales in comparison.

I am capable of feeling possessive. Perhaps it is because as a child, I had so few people to whom I felt connected or could count on for anything. To have someone who is mine and mine alone is something I have wanted, but always denied it could ever be possible. Perhaps it is because I never thought it was safe.

I certainly felt possessive of Lily in the short time we were together. In my heart, I knew she was only using me to make James Potter jealous. I knew it would not take long for Potter to reclaim her and I would simply be an error in judgment on her part, a bad memory.

Even knowing it was inevitable, the rage I felt when she told me it was over surpassed anything I ever felt towards another person. For those weeks, I had allowed myself to care too much, to want too much. I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to half believe it might not be a lie. Faced with an undeniable truth, I was so strongly tempted to strike her; it took all the will I had to walk away.

If I had stayed any longer, would I have done it? A question unanswered and one whose parameters I do not wish to explore. I was within a hairsbreadth of becoming what my father was.

I do not believe I am the same kind of man my father was. My father would have hit Lily. I walked away. Perhaps it is that choice that makes me different enough that I should take the risk?

As I think back on the hours at headquarters when we were struggling to save her life, it was one thing when Molly and Arthur climbed under the covers with Hermione to keep her warm. Even when Potter and Weasley got into the bed, it did not trouble me. They are more brothers to her than anything else.

But, when George and Fred lay down on either side of Hermione, Molly required them to keep their backs to her and their hands to themselves. Molly knew full well the twins do not see Hermione as sister material. Fortunately twenty years of acting served me in good stead as I kept my entirely visceral and Neanderthalean response damped down. I did not rip the two of them out of the bed and toss them down the stairs for daring to think of Hermione in such a manner.

Had I not been busy preparing potions and monitoring Hermione's condition, I should have been the one next to her, holding her, keeping her warm. In her delirium, she told me so in words too soft for others to hear. She felt safe with me and afraid when I was not there. I wanted to be the one to comfort her, no one else.

Women are generally afraid of me and I prefer it that way. Minerva, Narcissa, and Molly are the notable exceptions to the rule, but they have long since seen past the persona I present to the general public.

For so long, it has been safer physically and emotionally to keep women at a considerable distance. How did I let my guard down and let Hermione in? Let her in enough that I feel possessive of her, that holding her trust is important, and comforting her is my responsibility? The thought of seeing other men touch her with anything less than innocent intent, makes my blood boil.

I did not do it. I did not toss the twins down the stairs. I thought of it and I did not do it.

When I was a teenager, I wanted to hurt Lily for her careless disregard of my feelings. My possessiveness of Hermione has taken a different form. I find myself thinking of causing injury to those who do not recognize that she is Claimed. I suppose I cannot hold them accountable for that, since our relationship is entirely secret. That will change on the day I may formally Claim her.

I want to Claim her. I smile to myself as I consider the decision I made just before the explosion in the potions storeroom. I have a relationship with a woman I want to Claim.

How did I ever become someone she cares about in such a way? It is Hermione who initiated that wonderful kiss when I sat at the side of her bed, in spite of the fact that I had to look and smell revolting. After more than twelve hours in rooms kept tropically hot for Hermione's comfort and brewing cauldron after cauldron of remedies, my hair has never been greasier and my skin could not have been any better. Surely my deodorizing potion failed hours earlier.

Still, she had reached out to me with a look on her face and in her eyes I have never seen before. When I sat on her bed, I intended to simply hold her for a moment, no more. Where did my resolve go? I was so determined not to allow things to go any further with Hermione until after the war is over.

She is so very important to me and this situation is dangerous. I am a skilled Occlumens, but can I keep every encounter I have with Hermione away from one of the Dark Lord's probes? The stronger the emotional content of the memory, the more difficult it is to hide.

He looks deliberately for sexual encounters. I have allowed him to see everything I did with the call girl in Chicago. He believes I took a potion to temporarily remedy my supposed impotence and indulged myself. It pleases him to see such things, to intrude on intimate moments. The Dark Lord is a voyeur who likes to find things he can use to manipulate others.

Before Hermione was hurt, I was preparing to talk to her about avoiding a closer relationship at this time. The seriousness of her injury certainly stripped away any illusions I had about keeping Hermione at a distance. I would not let her out of my sight if I could find a way to keep her here.

I must be realistic. To pursue this now is suicidal. If the Dark Lord sees any sign of a relationship with Hermione in my memories, he will kill me. Even more likely, he will order Draco to deliver her over to him. He will have her raped and tortured before my eyes as a punishment to be followed by my own torture. Death will be a welcome relief to both of us before it is all over. Our bodies will be dumped somewhere on the grounds of Hogwarts as a message.

I will not put her at such a risk.

Yet, I wish to Claim her.

Would she…?

Would Hermione _wait_ for me?

Even if she is offered Bill Weasley on a platter?

I cannot Claim her now, but would she consider it as a possibility after the war ends?

Schuler told Albus something would happen this summer.

If I survive, I will make formal application to the Weasleys for permission to court Hermione. I think she would agree to that. I cannot help but believe that her feelings are as strong as my own.

My mood turns dark as I consider the other possible outcomes. What if Voldemort wins?

Hermione must survive, regardless of which side holds sway over wizarding Britain. If the wrong side wins, the best outcome I can hope for is that both of us escape to the United States.

No matter what happens to me, she must escape. Ensuring that may require some manipulations on my part. She is notoriously stubborn about being on the front lines of a battle when her friends are involved. Whenever the predicted encounter with the Dark Lord occurs, I must look for a way to keep Hermione far away. Perhaps it is for the best that Albus is forcing Hermione to stay in Chicago this summer. Whatever is going to happen may be over before she learns of it.

What if Hermione is here in Great Britain and the Dark Lord is victorious?. As soon as Voldemort wins, all magical means of exiting the country will be blocked. If the Death Eaters implement the policies espoused by the Dark Lord, Muggleborns will be in danger. At the very least, they will become the servant class of the wizarding world.

If it appears that Voldemort will win, what will I do? I cannot offer any protection for her if I am identified as a traitor.

Can I maintain a posture that will allow me to turn in either direction?

This is a moment I must decide where my loyalties truly lie. I can lie to Voldemort. I can lie to Albus Dumbledore. I am capable of lying to Hermione, if necessary. I will not lie to myself. Self-deception accomplishes nothing.

What if it comes to a choice of saving Hermione or saving Potter?

My response to that possibility is immediate and brutally honest. Prophecy and Potter be damned. I will save Hermione.

Would I betray the Order and Albus to save Hermione?

If necessary, I will appear to betray the Order and Albus. It may require acquiescing to a Death Eater victory, which will place Voldemort as the ruler of Great Britain. I will bide my time until an opportunity and means to destroy Voldemort presents itself, even if it takes a century. I will play whatever role I must in Riddle's Death Eaters. Lucius and Draco will do the same and we will watch each other's backs.

The Dark Lord has spoken of what the world would be like under his rule. He has referred to Muggles as slaves and potion ingredients. Muggleborn wizards are to be servants and magical laborers under the thumbs of Purebloods.

He calls Muggleborn witches _breeding stock_.

I must be in a position to keep Hermione, if it comes to that. I can rely on Lucius' influence to supplement my own, if I tell him I find her desirable. She must be awarded to me or I must capture her and secret her away.

My head drops into my hands as I consider another possible scenario.

She is captured and kept by another Death Eater. She is awarded to another Death Eater.

I will challenge and duel for her. Lucius will stand as my second. I will fight for her and win.

Hermione will live as my concubine.

Voldemort will award me a Pureblood wife.

Shit.

I do not wish to contemplate the nightmare that would be my life if any of these Dark scenarios come true. Every single one of these possibilities is another reason the Dark Lord cannot be allowed to win.

I will redouble my efforts. Every skill I have will be dedicated to the cause of making our weapon work and developing a means and strategy to deliver it. We will bring down Voldemort. He must never pose a threat again.

Merlin, help me. I am starting to sound like a Gryffindor. It must be the company I keep.

I am resolute. There has never been more at stake than there is right now. I want a life completely different than I have ever envisioned before. If I am taking on qualities of a Gryffindor optimist, I will use Slytherin cunning to accomplish it.

I look up at the moon. The air is chilly tonight and I am glad of my cloak. For a moment, I am overwhelmed by the depth of feeling I have for Hermione. The emotion I have both wanted and feared is here and I will not deny it to myself. This is love.

For the first time I can ever remember, I have love and I have hope.

-------------------------

Author's notes

A talleywhacker is a euphemism for the male organ. Julia advised me that the term is not in common use in Britain. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to change the line. It is one of my favorites in the whole story. Don't blame Julia, the responsibility is totally mine.

Any resemblance between the little blue vials and a certain little blue pill is purely intentional.

Thank you for all the wonderful and helpful reviews. It really brightens my day when someone offers feedback about the story. I'm sorry I couldn't answer a number of reviews. Work got rather in the way.

Dinah, Miroku75, Lipasnape, Soul Chaser, Tribbelet. SquigglesCandi, Sweety-Pie5445, Angel-Tears-16, KK Duke, Rachel, Jocemum, Rhonda, Belas, Adele Rose, Lucyferina, Triss Swordmaiden, Starbridge, Maxine Durchova, Keket Amunet, Nottbook, Caseyff, Plumbum, Mslupin21, Joani-the-unique-being, Arime Setta, Evil-mastermind666, aturia, Rinny08, Erytha, bundles-'o-joy, Jade2099, Ami Mizuno1, Crystalvoicedcamelotlady, Duj, Velvet74, KarlaMarie, Kirien, Notwritten, Teddy240b, Doodles Divine, Excessivelyperky, Lipasnape, Soul Chaser, SMALLwhitelies, F75, Koliber, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Andi-Scribbles, Dragonsandbookworms, Ebbe04, Wampelampe, CinnamonMonty, T-wrecks, Danielle, Pyro313, Maddie50, Lunacyglow, Darque Hart, Lyndie578, Me613, HPWylie, Droxy, Twistedpsyche, Severessa, Alinora, Latinachikita, MollysSister, AnnieTalbot, and AMistressMalfoy.


	64. Chapter 64

I own nothing you recognize. I only play in JKR's universe for fun.

This chapter is dedicated to Katja's grandfather, who passed away in January. Please keep her and her family in your thoughts.

Thank you to Julia, whose input has lots of influence. I hope you and your family are having a wonderful time on your well-deserved vacation.

Any errors in punctuation are mine (as always).

--------------------------

Hermione  
April 8th, 1999

The kitchen table at the Burrow is littered with parchments and books. I have gone through the Headmaster's copy of de Argentina's _Pretiosissimum Donum Dei _and taken copious notes.

Even with the best English translation charm, de Argentina's writing is flowery and riddled with obscure alchemical terms. I require multiple reference books to make sense of them and am still hopelessly lost at times.

His work with enchanted forms of belladonna is remarkable. I pull out the sheaf of computer print-outs I brought home with me from Avalon. It would have been more convenient if I had access to a computer and the Internet here.

I swear by Crookshanks' squashy little face, the day Digital Magic comes out with a notebook computer that works in magical environments, I will be first in line to buy it. Meanwhile, I have to make do with what I've got.

Enchanted belladonna looks reasonably easy to cultivate. It is not a magical plant, but rather one which can be enchanted. To grow it, one must perform certain spells over the seeds; plant them at the new moon to promote balanced leaf and root growth, water them consistently with water with a full moon charge to hold the moisture in the soil, use common growth charms and blessings, and fertilize the growing plants with niffler dung. This seems to match the description of how de Argentina cultivated the plants.

I've identified two major problems so far. It takes two years to get a mature plant and the extract is made from the roots. Once the plant is harvested, that's the end of it. If we are going to use enchanted belladonna, we'll have to continually plant new belladonna. I'm not even certain how much belladonna root it takes to get enough extract to get someone addicted and keep them that way.

I lean back in the chair and contemplate the need for more tea.

"How is it coming, dear?" asks Molly, leaning against the sink.

I get up and reach for the tea pot.

"My list of questions is getting much longer than my list of answers," I reply. "I suppose the official request will need to come from Severus as coordinator of the Weapons Development team to the coordinator of the Procurement team, but we will need a lot of enchanted belladonna if we are going to use a purely magical formulation."

"Oh my," replies Molly, "That won't be easy to find."

"Unless we can enchant atropine."

"Now there's a plant I've never heard of," says Molly, her forehead scrunched in concentration.

"It's not a plant," I explain, "It's an extract of belladonna used to paralyze involuntary muscles. In very large doses, it affects the central nervous system and causes excitement and delirium. I suspect the atropine extracted from enchanted belladonna affects the parts of central nervous system that allow us to use magic. From what I've been reading in de Argentina's book, I think it blocks magic while creating a sense of euphoria. During Medieval times, alchemists who used it on themselves in experiments may have become addicted to it, using it so often that after a while they couldn't use magic."

"I don't understand half of what you just said," replies Molly, puzzled. "Didn't they realize that they were losing their magic? Why would any wizard keep doing something that took away their magic? It doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't," I answer as I pour more tea for both of us, "Unless the euphoria from the enchanted belladonna made them feel so good they couldn't resist it. It has to be an effect of the enchanted version. The non-magical belladonna caused a delirium with powerful hallucinations, but not intense euphoria."

Molly sits at the kitchen table, bringing a plate of oatmeal biscuits for us to share. I bring the teacups. We both munch quietly.

"Unless you do it wrong, using magic feels good," muses Molly. "It only feels bad when you do a spell incorrectly and get a backlash. I can't imagine this belladonna could make someone feel so good they'd want to give up magic."

"I don't know that they wanted to give up magic," I explain. "When they started using the belladonna, they didn't know what it would do to them."

"If the extract itself is what you need, why not get a lot of that and try enchanting it?"

"It would be great if we could get both and had time to experiment," I reply, "but I'm starting to wonder if we ought to look into Muggle drugs for our addictive component. There are different formulations, all highly addictive, and the ingredients are readily available. I think it's possible that any addictive substance that causes euphoria might also be a magic suppressant. I think they may have substances in them that use the same receptors as the neurotransmitter that allows us to use magic.

"From what Charlie says, we'll be able to get plenty of the firebladder extract. If we can determine a dosage sufficient to block Voldemort's magic, but not kill him, we could combine it with crack cocaine and get the job done. We don't have enough time to do a lot of experimenting, if we need to develop this potion by summer."

"What is crack cocaine?"

"Powdered cocaine boiled in water and sodium bicarbonate," I explain, "After it has boiled for a while, the solid that forms is called crack. It is supposed to be smoked in a pipe and gives an immediate overwhelming sense of pleasure. The pleasure is so strong, nothing else feels as good and the user compulsively seeks more. Crack has destroyed a lot of lives in the Muggle world. It is terribly dangerous to try it even once. If we could addict Voldemort to it, world conquest would drop pretty low on his _To Do_ list."

Molly refills both our teacups and looks at me searchingly.

"Is this too dangerous for you and Severus to be working with?" she asks.

"We'd have to find a magical way to turn it into an inhalable smoke to get the strongest effect from it. A bubblehead charm would keep it from getting into the air we breathe. The protective garments we'd need are no different than what we use when handling other dangerous ingredients. I think it could be managed. It will certainly be one of the things we discuss when Severus gets here."

There is no point in elaborating any further with Molly. She has no idea just how dangerous any of this is and she would dwell on it, if she knew.

"In that case," says Molly, switching into earth mother mode, "I think it is time for you to put away all of these parchments, scrolls, and books. Poppy wants you to rest, so why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?"

"Good idea," I reply, gathering up the books. "Harry, Bill, Remus, and Severus will be here this evening to discuss our potion. We're liable to be up late before we're done, so I'd better get some rest now."

Molly stacks the parchments and computer printouts and we place them all on a table in the living room. As she turns around, I reach out for her. Molly smiles warmly and pulls me into a hug. It feels so good to have her caring arms around me.

"Thank you so much for taking care of me," I whisper. "Most of it is a haze, but I remember you holding me when I was cold. I felt better when you were there."

Molly brushes my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. "You're part of our family now, child. I felt better when I was there holding you. It's a mum thing."

"I think my mum would approve completely," I tell her.

Molly smiles at me. "In that case, this mum is sending you off for your nap. Now don't you make me come up there and check on you to make sure you aren't just laying there reading."

"Yes, ma'am," I reply as I cheerfully comply with her instructions.

Twenty minutes later, I'm just dozing off when I hear the bedroom door open just a crack. Molly's checking up on me anyway. I can't help but smile as I fall asleep.

---------------

Harry can be so sweet sometimes. He pulled out my chair, poured my tea, and handed me a plate and a napkin. He's looking after me because I was sick. I feel fine, but I'm going to let him wait on me hand and foot, if it makes him feel better. After all the times I've looked after him or bailed his arse out of trouble, I think I'm overdue for a little pampering in return.

The committee has taken over the kitchen so we can meet around the table. Molly left us with the tea and biscuits. I don't know if she would be pleased at the bottle of firewhisky Bill brought out as soon as she left to go upstairs. Harry isn't partaking, because he has to report for duty in the morning. He won't admit it, but he doesn't have much of a head for alcohol.

"How is your training going?" Bill asks Harry.

"The training is fine, but there's a lot they don't tell you about being an Auror before you sign on," answers Harry, looking rather disgruntled. "Ten minutes of action means ten hours of waiting or paperwork."

"That's true of a lot of jobs," replies Bill. "When I accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, I thought I'd be getting away from doing so much paperwork. Break a curse to liberate a treasure and Gringotts has more forms to fill out than the Hogwarts library has bits of parchment. After seven years at Hogwarts as a student, I should have realized how much time teachers spend marking essays and writing lesson plans."

"That's exactly what I mean," says Harry, helping himself to a snickerdoodle. "I made an arrest this morning on an outstanding warrant for transfiguring toothpicks into galleons and spending them. Tracking the counterfeiter to a friend's home took about two hours. Finishing the paperwork to process the prisoner and file charges took four hours."

This might be my chance to ask Harry about something that's been on my mind instead of listening to the two men grouse about their paperwork. I put my hand on Harry's arm to interrupt and he turns to face me.

"How is your Firebolt?" I ask.

"My Firebolt?" he asks in return, looking confused. "It's fine. Why?"

"It's been on my mind," I reply. "I'm just curious. Are there things you do to it for regular maintenance?"

"Sure. Don't you remember that you gave me my very first broom maintenance kit?"

"I don't mean that kind of maintenance." I wrack my brain for a good comparison. "You know how cars have to be taken to a repair shop to have the oil changed and tires rotated? Is there anything like that for a broom?"

"Every few years I have to take it in to Quality Quidditch Supplies," answers Harry. "They inspect the broom and check the charms to make sure everything is in good working order."

"Have you done it recently?"

Harry looks thoughtful and scratches his head.

"I don't think so," he answers. "It's been so busy and all, it is probably overdue. Thanks for reminding me. I'll take care of it next week."

"Good," I reply, relieved. "I haven't a clue why it has been bothering me." I smile and tease Harry. "It's probably because we're not together enough for me to nag you about studying. I haven't met my worry and nag quota where you're concerned."

"If it makes you feel better," laughs Harry, "you can nag me through our journals."

"I don't have any nagging for the moment, now that I've asked about the Firebolt. Another thing I've been wondering about; have there been any developments in the search for the missing nun?" I ask.

"Nothing," says Harry, shaking his head regretfully. "It's as if she vanished off the face of the earth."

"Missing nun?" asks Bill, raising an eyebrow.

"Sister Kathleen Clancy," he replies. "She ran a homeless shelter in Dublin for the Little Sisters of the Poor. She vanished without a trace in February."

"I take it that she was a witch, if you have been on the investigation team," comments Bill. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

"She was in her seventies," says Harry, taking another biscuit. "She was starting to make plans to fake her death so she could retire to a secret convent for witches in France. According to her family, she was worried someone would figure out she wasn't aging the way she should, even with a glamour. One day, she left the shelter to go to a meeting and disappeared."

"I don't remember reading anything about it in the Prophet," says Bill.

"It didn't get much coverage," says Harry. "I think it got a couple of short paragraphs on the back pages. No body has been found and there are absolutely no leads. Since she lived mostly in the Muggle world, the wizarding world isn't paying much attention."

"Severus didn't have anything for you?" asks Bill.

"_Professor Snape_," corrects Harry, teasing. Bill grins in return. "He says there isn't any scuttlebutt among the Death Eaters about it."

The candle in the middle of the table lights and flares. That's the signal that someone has arrived and has passed inside the anti-apparation wards around the Burrow.

Bill gets up and opens the door that leads into the garden. Remus is here, accompanied by a witch I haven't met before. She has a traveling cloak draped over her shoulders, covering all but the hem of her lime green robes. Apparently she knows Bill, who takes her cloak and escorts her over to the table.

"Ellen," says Bill, "I'd like you to meet Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. This is Healer Smith."

"Hello and please call me Ellen," she says emphatically. "Albus told me both of you were on this committee," says the witch as she takes the seat next to mine. She has warm hazel eyes and a delightful smile.

"It's good to meet you," I reply. "Do you work at St. Mungo's?"

"The lime green robes give it away every time," she answers, eyes twinkling. "My specialty is curse reversal."

"You must see some strange things," says Harry, pushing his eyeglasses back up his nose. Honestly, you'd think he'd remember to use the Stay-Put charm I taught him.

"I do," she answers with a sigh. "Unfortunately, we've been all too busy the last few years. There are some very creative curses out there with terrible effects."

Remus joins us, offering Healer Smith a glass of the firewhisky.

"No, thank you," she says. "I'll stick with tea. I like to keep my wits about me when there's a project on the table," she says, looking at the stack of reports I prepared for the committee. She turns to me and nods approvingly at my cup of tea.

"I see you're following Madame Pomfrey's orders," she says.

"She made it very clear that I shouldn't indulge in anything that might interact with the detoxifying potion I'm taking," I reply.

"Before we get too busy with the meeting, "says Ellen, "She has asked me to examine you and bring back a urine sample. We need to know if you still have any of the firebladder extract in your system. If we're going to make this weapon work, we have to make certain we don't kill Voldemort's body in the process. Madame Pomfrey and I will be available to advise you and Professor Snape on probable human body responses to the potion."

"You've been briefed on our plans?"

"Poppy and Albus have given me an overview," says Ellen. "I expect to learn more tonight." She leans towards me and looks at me intensely. "The miniature Swedish short snout firebladder extract _really _suppressed your magic?"

"It did," I reply. "Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape are certain of it." I reach over to the stack of reports and take one to give her. "This report outlines our observations and provides a summary of the research I've done about addiction."

"Incredible," she comments as she begins to skim the report. "How is it we never discovered this before?"

I am ready to launch into an explanation when the candle lights up again, indicating another arrival. That should be Severus. I'd get up and answer the door, but that would be too obvious. Especially since I'd be tempted to throw my arms around him and snog him senseless.

I can't help but smile to myself. Wouldn't that shock everyone? Especially Severus?

It would be wonderful if we're able to get a moment or two alone when the meeting is over. There might not be enough of an opportunity for snogging to the point of senselessness, but I'll take whatever I can get. After all, we did have that wonderful kiss that told me he cares about me as much as I do him.

I may not remember much of what happened while I was ill, but I'm certain he was with me almost constantly. I think he even saw me naked after the doxy repellent and Cruciatus potions splattered all over me and ate right through my clothes. He had to have seen that hex scar across my chest I got as a souvenir of that mess at the Ministry of Magic.

Part of me has worried that any man would find it revolting. Severus must not feel that way, given how he kissed me. Though, I'm an amateur in the scar department compared to what I saw on Severus when I treated him for Cruciatus.

Bill opens the door and Severus steps inside. He looks as he always does. He is wearing his black cloak over the black robes. Beneath those are his frock coat and the trousers with the buttons at the ankles. The only white one can see is a bit above the high collar and at his wrists. His dragonhide boots click on the wooden floor. As usual, Severus' hair looks like it needs a good washing. His skin is too pale and his teeth are stained from all the tea he drinks. For an instant, his black eyes meet mine across the room.

I hope I will always feel this rush of joy whenever our eyes meet.

I wish I dared to show it.

I tear my eyes away slowly and look down at my tea. If I keep looking at him, I'll give something away and he knows it. Severus might be able to sustain a disinterested look. I can't.

We haven't had any opportunity to talk about Bill and me posing as a couple so we can be couriers for Mr. Schuler and Professor Dumbledore. Bill and I talked it over and it is strictly a role-play. I want to reassure Severus. I really need to talk to him privately. If only I had thought to bring my paired journal home for the holiday. It never occured to me that I might need it.

Severus turns his attention to the Healer next to me.

"Good evening, Healer Smith," says Severus in that silky voice of his. "I trust you are well and that your husband is the same?"

Ellen gives him a broad smile and replies. "Mark and I are doing very well, thank you. He sends his greetings and asks pardon for not coming to visit Hogwarts."

"It's a shame he can't," says Bill with a chuckle. "We could have a reunion of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors."

Ellen is laughing. She looks at me and sees my confusion.

"They're referring to my husband, Mark. He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in 1985. The curse caught up with him at the end of term, just before the last class was over."

"The curse?" I ask. "There have been rumors about it among the students." I look at Severus, who has taken a seat at the table across from me. "Is it true that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is jinxed?"

I notice that Severus takes a surreptitious glance at the bottle before he accepts the glass of firewhisky offered by Remus, who joins us at the table. I'll bet he was making certain it wasn't the five year old version of Old Ogdens. I don't blame him. I wouldn't drink that rotgut either. It tastes like rubbing alcohol mixed with road tar.

"It is something of an open secret that the DADA position is cursed," explains Remus. "Albus told me about that before I accepted it. He said that no one had kept the position for more than one year, ever since Riddle cursed it."

"You knew you could only hold the position for a year and accepted it anyway?" asks Harry, surprised.

"It was a chance I was willing to take, given our suspicions that the Dark Lord was arranging for a return," explained Remus, swirling the whisky in his glass. "He had already targeted you. Even though Albus, Severus, and Minerva were in place to protect you, I thought I could help."

"If the position is cursed, how is it that Bill is still at Hogwarts?" I ask. "He's had the job for more than one year."

"We think we have found a way to deal with the curse." says Bill, joining us at the table. "We'll know for certain if I make it until the end of this term."

"How do you curse a position, anyway?" asks Harry. "I thought a curse had to be on an object or a person. A job is a thing a person does, not the person themselves."

"A very good point," says Bill. "Severus, Albus, Professor Flitwick and I researched the issue last summer. It was Severus who figured it out."

Severus looks rather smug as he waits for Harry to ask.

"Okay, Professor," says Harry, eyeing Severus skeptically. "Would you consider explaining to the rest of us how you managed to remove the curse?"

Severus looks around the table and takes a sip of his firewhisky. He's going for full dramatic effect on this one.

"I must point out that we have not removed the curse. We have simply found a way to manage it. When the pattern of losing the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at the end of each school year emerged, Professor Dumbledore believed that Riddle had somehow cursed the job when he applied for the position and was turned down.

"Although Riddle is a powerful and creative wizard, the Headmaster did not believe that a means had been invented to curse the position itself. Professor Dumbledore looked at objects around the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and office that could serve as an anchor for such a curse. He had every desk, book, portrait, and object in both rooms checked for curses. Nothing was found. Moving the class and office to different rooms changed nothing."

"There had to be something to anchor the curse," says Harry, pensively.

"The Headmaster could not investigate every item in the entire castle for curses. The issue remained unresolved for decades." Severus is smirking.

I'll ask the question. Severus is just waiting for the opportunity to gloat.

"Then how did you figure out what to do?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow and is giving Remus a rather superior look, which is guaranteed to irritate the recipient. Fortunately, Remus is being patient. Instead of sniping back, he gives Severus a rather long-suffering look in return.

"It occurred to me during the summer when I was signing my Hogwarts teaching contract. I realized Professor Weasley replaced Professor DaVinci in October," says Severus smoothly. "As a replacement, his contract was different than Professor DaVinci's. Professor Weasley managed to reach the end of the term without the curse forcing him to leave Hogwarts.

"Each Hogwarts teacher signs a new contract every year. Most of us have been teaching for a considerable amount of time and have different contracts every few years because of accumulated rates of benefits associated with seniority. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is different. Since there has been a new teacher every year, the Headmaster had simply magically duplicated the same contract each year."

"So, the curse was on the contract," remarks Ellen, amazed, "and was duplicated along with the contract."

"Precisely. Each year, the new teacher signed the cursed contract. Each year, the new teacher was gone by the end of term," says Severus, raising his glass in a toast to Remus.

That's my Severus. He's very pleased with himself to have figured this out when even Albus Dumbledore could not.

"We are still testing it," says Bill. "We'll know that we have it right if I make it to the end of the school year without a disaster." He turns on his full charm on Ellen with one of those gorgeous smiles of his. "I may not be as lucky as Professor Smith was when the curse caught him."

Ellen starts to laugh, a throaty chuckle. Bill and Remus both lean back in their seats and laugh along with her. Severus allows himself an amused smile as gazes into his firewhisky.

Harry and I look at each other, mystified.

Ellen looks like she's starting to catch her breath. She coughs a few times and takes a few sips of her tea to clear her throat.

"I know most of the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors in recent years have had rather unpleasant departures from Hogwarts," she remarks.

"Usually right after they try to kill me," mutters Harry.

"I'm really sorry about that," says Remus, shrugging his shoulders and giving Harry a look of regret.

"At least you didn't do it intentionally," says Harry, consolingly. "That's more than I can say for the others."

Ellen looks back and forth at the two of them. "Is there a story here I should know about, Severus?"

"Later," replies Severus, rolling his eyes.

"So, what happened to your husband?" asks Harry, urging her to continue.

"It was the morning of the last day of term," says Ellen, with an amused look. "We thought we'd made it and then it happened." She pauses dramatically.

"Yes?" I urge her.

"Mark started sneezing," she says, a smile playing around her lips. "He sneezed and sneezed and sneezed…."

Severus takes it up.

"And sneezed again and again," he says, emphatically. "We could hear him down in the dungeons." He looks at me lazily. "Echoes, as you know."

I want to giggle. I am, however, too mature to giggle.

"I was in the Potions classroom at the time and heard it," says Bill. "The man couldn't stop sneezing."

"He broke out in hives," adds Ellen. "He was in the infirmary and Poppy couldn't get the sneezing to stop. He was itching like mad and could hardly catch his breath from sneezing so hard. I was summoned from St. Mungos."

"Poppy tried every charm she could think of," remarks Severus. "The potions I had in stock made no difference."

"It got rather messy when he sneezed in the middle of swallowing," observes Ellen, brushing off the bodice of her robes for effect.

Now, we are all laughing.

"Nothing I tried worked. We transferred him to St. Mungos," declares Ellen. "As soon as we flooed out of Hogwarts, the sneezing stopped. We spent a few hours in the Curse Reversal Unit and found absolutely nothing wrong. He was released and we returned to Hogwarts. The moment he stepped out of the floo, the sneezing and hives started all over again. Ten minutes later we were back at St. Mungos…."

"Where the sneezing stopped?" interrupts Harry.

"Exactly," says Ellen, shaking her head. "Mark hasn't been able to set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts ever since. He is the only person ever to be diagnosed with an allergy to Hogwarts."

"If the curse is off the position," asks Harry, "would he be able to visit?"

"The curse is on the contract Professor Smith signed," Severus replies, in that all-knowing superior way of his. "Therefore, he would still be subject to its effects." Severus smirks at Bill. "We put a few extra protections in the new contract that Professor Weasley signed for this year."

"Such as?" inquires Ellen.

"We decided to take no chances and changed the title of the position," says Bill, grinning. "Technically, I am not the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"They renamed the position?" I ask.

Bill stands up, straightens his robes, strikes a manly pose and proudly announces, "You are looking at Hogwarts very first Music Appreciation teacher."

All of us are laughing. Even Severus has joined in.

"I just happen to teach other classes related to dealing with curses, hexes, and Dark creatures," boasts Bill.

"Do you actually do anything related to music?" laughs Harry.

"Of course," offers Bill cheerfully. "At the first staff meeting of the new term, I led the teachers in a rousing chorus of the Hogwarts school song."

We're all laughing again, except for Severus.

"For purposes of clarification, I did _not_ participate," he announces, "and regardless of any claims otherwise, Professor Weasley _cannot_ sing."

Harry is about to roll off his chair from laughing so hard. It takes a few minutes for all of us to settle down and turn our attention to the original purpose of the meeting.

--------------------------

It is almost midnight. At least we have come up with a plan.

"We cannot pursue enchanted belladonna at this time," says Severus, shaking his head. "We simply do not have enough time to cultivate it and there is little of it available on the open or black markets."

"That leaves us with crack cocaine or heroin," replies Ellen.

"According to my research," I explain, "Heroin produces the euphoria fastest when injected directly into a vein – in about ten seconds. Obviously we aren't going to get the Dark Lord to cooperate with that. Smoking it takes two to five minutes. The addiction takes longer, requiring repeated doses."

"We need a faster response," observes Bill, "which crack cocaine could provide if we can find a way to deliver it in a smoked form."

"I agree," says Ellen. "The smoked form produces a high within five seconds, but dosage is tricky. Too much and we throw the Dark Lord into an abnormally high heart rate. We must not risk killing him."

"How can we test it on snakes?" asks Harry. "Somehow I doubt anyone has ever tried to addict a snake before."

"We are in the realm of trial and error experimentation, Potter," ponders Severus. "There are no precedents for any of this because there has never been anything like the Dark Lord before."

"Even if we determine that snakes don't become addicted to crack, it doesn't mean the Dark Lord can't be addicted to it," I speculate. "If he has enough human physiology left in him, he could be addicted. Even snakes have dopamine receptors."

Everyone except Ellen and Severus are looking at me blankly. Severus and I exchange a look and he quirks one of those tiny smirks he's so fond of.

"Dopamine receptors are the mechanism for cocaine addiction," explains Severus, sternly. "Hermione duplicated the information for each of you. I expect you to study this information so you have a working knowledge of what we are trying to do. Do not make me assign you an essay to learn it. Hermione and I will handle the details of the chemistry involved."

"We're going to need snakes," says Bill, turning to Harry. "Have you any ideas on how to attract a lot of snakes?"

"Will garter snakes do?" asks Harry.

Severus and I look at each other and shrug. Who knows?

"Garter snakes will do for a start," replies Severus. "Ultimately, we will want to test our formulation on a runespoor. A runespoor is intelligent enough to explain what is happening to it internally, given Potter's interpreting skills."

"In that case," says Harry, "I can stand in the middle of a field and call them. I'll gather them up and bring them to headquarters."

"I'll help with the gathering and the setting up of housing for them," offers Bill. "I'll do a little research and find out what they eat and what's needed to keep them alive in captivity."

"I'll take care of them," says Potter. "If I have to be away for work, Remus could look after them."

"Oh, no I can't," replies Remus. "I didn't mind handling the Ashwinder cage because I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere near the snake. You are not going to get me anywhere near a tank full of garter snakes."

"You have an issue with snakes?" asks Severus, one eyebrow raised.

I can see the wheels turning in his head.

"I hate snakes," says Remus with a shudder. "They slither around and have that tongue thing that they do. Just the thought of touching one gives me the heebeejeebies."

Harry is on the verge of cracking up. Severus is smiling in a rather wolfish manner that makes me distinctly suspicious of what he might be planning. Bill is shaking his head.

"C'mon, Remus," says Harry, "Snakes aren't slimy or anything like that. Their skin actually feels really good when you touch one. Most have very smooth scales."

Remus' whole torso shakes in a very noticeable shiver of revulsion.

"I will take your word for it, because I will never find out myself," he says, grimacing. "You couldn't pay me to touch one."

"I shall file that piece of information away for future reference," murmurs Severus to himself as he sorts through parchments.

"Be afraid," I say to Remus in a quietly dramatic voice, "Be very afraid."

"I think we should return to the topic at hand," replies Remus nervously. "It's getting late."

Severus leans back in his chair, giving all of us a rather pensive look.

"We must meet again to determine how we will obtain the cocaine. With the quantity we will need, I cannot procure it myself through my usual connections for restricted substances without attracting unwanted attention."

"In that case," I reply, "I suggest we ask the twins to be at our next meeting."

The responses to my suggestion are nods around the table that look as if they'd been choreographed.

Parchments are gathered up and put into folders. Teacups and dessert plates are cleaned up and put away. Ellen has already put her notes about my physical examination and the magically miniaturized urine sample into a pocket of her robes. Harry gathers me up into a rib-cracking hug just as Arthur comes in through the kitchen door from the living room.

"I take it your work is done for the night?" asks Arthur, looking very much at home in a ratty old red plaid bathrobe that clashes brutally with the orange plaid in his pajamas.

"Yeah, Dad," answers Bill, "We're wrapping it up for now."

"Good," says Arthur, giving me a warm smile, "Because your mother ordered me to come down here and not to come back upstairs without Hermione. She thinks your _little group of bad influences _is keeping her up too late."

I can't help but laugh as Bill, Remus, and Severus exchange looks that are deliberately innocent. Even Harry joins in on that one. Ellen winks at me.

"In that case," teases Harry, "I'd better let you go. Plotting against Riddle is one thing. Taking on Molly Weasley when she's in earth mother mode is something else entirely."

Another quick hug and Harry is heading for the door with Remus and Ellen. Bill is putting the rest of the biscuits back into their tin. Severus and I are very aware of Arthur and exchange nods. There isn't going to be a moment alone tonight where we can talk. Maybe after the next meeting?

"Bill," asks Arthur, "Will you lock up and ward down here? I'll take Hermione upstairs."

"Sure, Dad," he replies.

Arthur's arm comes around my shoulder and we turn for the stairs. One last look back. Severus is giving me one of his miniscule smiles.

Sigh.

-----------------

Author's Notes

A few readers have dropped me a note asking why this story is so long. The only thing I can say is; because it is. My outline projected the story to be 95 chapters long, give or take a few.

A lot of readers have asked if the person who tampered with the doxy repellent potion will ever be brought to justice. Hmmm? Stay tuned.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Not so Chicken Little, SquigglesCandi Tigris, Sweety-Pie5445, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Duj, SeverusNaughtyStudent, Me613, Lucyferina, Seren23, Mypenname411, Arime Setta, SeverusSnape'sLove, Chrl268, belas, Joani-the-unique-being, MollysSister, Artemis-Eureka, Angel-tears16, KarlaMarie, Laura, Keket Amunet, Rinny08, Notwritten, Poiu, Quiet-mg, Evilmastermind666, Jade2099, Latinachikita, MisRoxie (who offered an interesting suggestion for a way to kill off Voldemort), Excessivelyperky, InLoveWithMal, Ebbe04, Kirien, Every one summer, Doodles Divine, Pyro313, I am, Wynnleaf, Andi-Scribbles, SlytherintwinCC, Soul Chaser, T wrecks, Koliber, Siren34, Ami Mizuno1, Lyndie578, Siren34, Erytha, Mugglemomof3, Aturia, Nottbook, Danielle, Hodemi, Katyes, DCI Panda and Tribbelet.


	65. Chapter 65

I own nothing your recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia who pointed out to the paranormal investigator that I continually misspelled _apparition_ in this chapter (Hypnobarb hangs her head in disgrace).

Did you know that Katja has translated 32 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German? Look for _Auf der Suche nach Magie_ by Katyes

----------------------------  
Severus  
April 9th, 1999

"I fully understand your concerns, Severus," says Albus, "This student very nearly killed Miss Granger whether through incompetence, intentional sabotage, or prank. But we must be careful in how we handle this."

Albus' office is cool this morning. The window is open and there is a breeze coming in from the west. The scent of the forest is strong with hints of pine and juniper. I normally find this soothing. My mood has made this considerably less effective than usual on this particular morning.

We agreed to meet before breakfast to discuss a response to Hermione's potions accident.

It appears I will not be allowed to maim or kill the student who added something extra to a bottle of doxy repellent, resulting in near fatal injury.

"Certainly we must be discreet," I retort, trying very hard not to show my frustration. "We cannot reveal who was injured and why the injury was so severe. However, I can reveal that the exploding doxy repellent caused bottles containing other potions to break and splatter on the victim, causing severe chemical burns."

"That seems reasonable," says Minerva, "This raises the question of the identity of the victim."

"I will volunteer to be the victim," suggests Poppy, passing on the plate of pastries. "No one will question my presence in the Potions storeroom, even over the holiday. I can state that I was fetching some potions needed in the infirmary when the explosion occurred. I can also claim that Winky helped me to treat my own burns."

"An excellent story," pronounces Albus, offering more tea to Minerva. "It is entirely believable since you have access to the Potions storeroom, even when Severus is not present."

"Which brings us back to reasonable consequences and to what degree Severus is allowed to torture the perpetrator," reiterates Minerva. I can tell she wants to settle this before I become explosive. This whole subject has set me on edge.

"If it was an honest mistake," says Albus, "the perpetrator is likely to have no idea what he or she did. Even Veritaserum will not get a confession in that case."

"It is highly unlikely to have been an honest error," I explain, my irritation apparent to all. "The ingredients in doxy repellent do not interact in ways causing effervescence, even if measured and prepared incorrectly. In analyzing the ingredients, the only things that could cause effervescence are a variety of beetle carapaces or bone meal from a number of magical creatures when added to the potion. The spellings of the words _carapace_ or _bone meal_ are dissimilar to anything on the ingredients list.

"Unfortunately, it was necessary to Evanesco all of the evidence to prevent further injury to Hermione. I cannot do an analysis to find out precisely what was added to the potion. Whatever it was, it was deliberate."

"I agree with Severus," adds Poppy. "It is unlikely this was simply a mistake. Someone either deliberately sabotaged the potion or was playing a practical joke. Whoever did this knew they were adding an ingredient that did not belong there."

"How do you plan to find out who it was?" asks Minerva.

I lean back and contemplate my alternatives.

"It had to be someone in the Fourth Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class," I muse. "Adding a small amount of carapace or bone meal to the potion would have caused effervescence to reach a critical level in forty-eight to fifty-two hours. The Slytherin and Gryffindor class met too early in the week for the exploding bottle to have come from there." I pause and consider different strategies.

"I believe I shall simply ask for a confession. If it was a Hufflepuff, I may get a confession as soon as they hear someone was injured. If it was a Ravenclaw, I may have to start subtracting house points until one of them confesses."

"Both sound like reasonable strategies," remarks Minerva, "Certainly the psychology is right."

"Which brings us back to the consequences," says Poppy.

"I suppose I am not allowed to abandon the perpetrator in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at midnight during a full moon?" I grumble.

Albus smiles and twinkles. "I do believe the Board of Governors might find it excessive, given we cannot tell them the true extent of the injuries to the victim. Given the supposed injury to a member of the staff, I think it would be wise if the student were sent to me immediately after your identification. The punishment will come from me and be my responsibility."

"May I suggest turning the perpetrator over to me for detentions for a few weeks?" requests Poppy. "Perhaps spending time caring for the ill and injured in the hospital wing will help the student who did this understand the consequences of their actions. Though, of course, we are unlikely to have anyone in the hospital wing who is injured anywhere near as severely as Hermione was."

"I would be amenable to that," I explain, "If you refrain from being unduly kind to the perpetrator."

"The student would be expected to do a good deal more than fluff pillows and pour water for patients," Poppy replies with a suspiciously Albus-like twinkle. "The floors and lavatories haven't had a good hand washing in quite a while and we've always got bedpans and vomit buckets in need of a good toothbrush scrubbing."

"I believe cleaning bedpans with a toothbrush might offer Hermione a certain poetic justice," I reply, recollecting our conversation on top of Astronomy Tower. "She suggested it once as a consequence when she was quite angry over another's transgression."

"Goodness," says Minerva, "Hermione must have been most aggravated at the time."

"She had sound reason," I reply. There is no need to explain any further. "If this is agreeable, I should like to enjoy breakfast before class."

"Is this plan acceptable to everyone?" asks Albus.

All parties give assent and we depart for breakfast.

-------------------

The Fourth Year Potions class with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw is usually one of the easier ones to teach. The students are generally serious about their work and get along reasonably well. Today's lecture is scheduled to be about the effects of different harvesting methods on the efficacy of root-based extracts. The start of the lecture will be delayed by the necessity of sussing out the perpetrator of this particularly heinous prank or sabotage.

The whole lot of them look so innocent. I heard their annoyingly happy little chatter right up until they walked into the classroom. At least they are intelligent enough to silence themselves as soon as they arrive at the door.

One of those bright shining faces almost killed my Hermione.

"Before we begin today's lesson, there is an issue we must resolve," I begin. "The last time this class met, your assignment was to brew a very standard doxy repellent. Given the simplicity of the potion, most of you managed somehow to brew a minimally acceptable potion. On the other hand, one of you added an additional ingredient to the brew which resulted in an explosion in the Potions storeroom."

This has their attention. I see facial expressions of various kinds; appalled, curious, surprised. Students look at each other to see if anyone looks guilty. So far, no one does. It is time to up the ante.

"Madam Pomfrey was in the storeroom at the time. The potion bottle she was holding in her hand broke when hit with the shattered glass from the exploding doxy repellent."

This garners looks of dismay and gasps from some of the students. Now, students are actively examining the faces of their classmates to look for signs of guilt. Madam Pomfrey is very popular with the students. It is difficult not to like the kind-hearted Mediwitch who has cared for most of them through projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea.

"Madam Pomfrey received extensive chemical burns on her hands and wrists."

Now there are loud gasps and looks of horror. I examine each student's face for expressions of guilt. There are a few who are not making eye contact with me.

"Who did this?" I demand in my most intimidating voice.

There is silence in the room. I step down from the platform and begin walking around the room.

"Whichever one of you did this; I am giving you ten seconds to take responsibility for your actions."

The ten seconds pass by with no confession. I am reasonably certain it is not a Hufflepuff.

"Very well," I announce, pacing in front of the room with my hands clasped behind my back. I make myself very tall and very intimidating. It is time for Plan B.

"I will begin to count to ten," I tell them in a cold and deadly tone. "At the count of one, I will subtract ten house points each from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. At two, I shall double the amount and add it to the original total. I will double it again with each number I count. The count will stop as soon as I have a truthful confession."

The students look at each other in shock as I pause to let this sink in.

"_One_," I announce coldly. "Mr. Peterson, how many points has each House lost?"

"Ten, sir," replies Peterson.

"_Two_. How many points, Miss Larson?"

"Twenty, sir," replies Larson.

"Incorrect. Five points from Hufflepuff. How many points Miss Howe-Smythe?"

"Ten for the first count and twenty for the second count for a total of thirty, sir," she answers nervously.

"Correct." I look around the room. Some are shifting anxiously in their seats. Others are looking at each other suspiciously.

"_Three._ How many points Mr. Monroe?"

"Seventy points, sir," says Monroe, practically stuttering.

"How many points will be lost at four?"

"One hundred and fifty points, Professor," he says, looking rather panicked.

"_Four."_

The Hufflepuffs are clearly nervous and are looking around the room for someone to do something. The Ravenclaws are maintaining composure, but looking rather shell-shocked.

"Mr. Whittier, how many points will be lost at five?"

He barely gets the words out. "Sir, it would be 310 points. Professor Snape, this isn't fair…."

I whirl on him and hiss. "How fair is it for Madam Pomfrey to have to heal her own hands with help from a house-elf?"

I scan the room and see a shaking hand start to rise.

"Miss Collingsworth," I say coldly, "Do you have something you wish to say before I count five?"

"It was my fault," she says, her voice trembling. "The potion was almost done and I opened the wrong bottle for the last ingredient." She is looking down at her hands instead of at me. "The color still looked alright, so I didn't think I'd done it any harm."

I loom over her.

"The last ingredient was _lacewings_, Miss Collingsworth." I put full intimidation into my voice. "What did you put into the potion instead of lacewings?"

"Dung beetle carapace, sir," she whispers.

"You mistook a powdered ingredient for whole lacewings?"

"Sir… I'm not sure…I can't remember," she stutters.

"If you substituted dung beetle carapace for lacewings, there would be no effervescence and no explosion," I clarify as I bring my face closer to hers. She is shaking with anxiety. "However, carapace added _after_ the lacewings will result in effervescence and an explosion."

The girl puts her hands over her face. Why, I do believe I've made her cry.

What a pity.

"Look at me," I order. Collingsworth drops her hands and looks up at me, terrified. Tears and mucus are smeared on her face, a most unattractive look.

"You lied to me, Miss Collingsworth," I say softly. I can be terrifying when I use a soft voice. "Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

Collingsworth is sobbing, now. I suspect I shall get no more information out of her. I straighten up and address her loudly enough that Pomona can probably hear me out at the greenhouses.

"Miss Collingsworth, you will report to the Headmaster's office. He is waiting to discuss this incident with you and determine an appropriate consequence for severely injuring Madam Pomfrey and costing Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff one hundred and fifty points each for failing to take responsibility for your actions.

"I suggest you get up and leave _now_. You will receive a zero for last week and a zero for today. In addition to whatever penalty the Headmaster imposes, you will write three feet on the subject of ethical behavior towards classmates and staff. Dismissed."

Miss Collingsworth is on her feet with bookbag in hand and running out the door in an instant. The rest of the class is sitting in stunned silence.

I do believe I have made my point.

"Class," I tell them sternly, "Open your textbooks to page 409. Today we will discuss the effect of various harvesting methods when working with root potion ingredients."

--------------------

Albus walks alongside Poppy and me as we stroll down the path towards the gates. It is half past four and Poppy and I are leaving for the Burrow so she can check Hermione once more before we do an apparition test.

"I do not know what you said to her in the classroom," says Albus, "but by the time Poppy arrived she was ready to get on her knees and beg forgiveness."

"Her guilt is nothing less than she deserved," I reply, rather self-righteously. I see no need to justify my actions further. I only regret that the chit will never know it is Hermione whose forgiveness she should beg. "So why did she do it? She was obviously lying about putting the carapace in her own potion by mistake."

"She calmed down enough to tell the whole story after Poppy arrived," replies Albus. "The girl was jealous of Miss Howe-Smythe because she was receiving attention from Mr. Bennett. She decided to add the powdered carapace to Miss Howe-Smythe's potion so it would effervesce and overflow the cauldron. She intended to embarrass the girl in front of Mr. Bennett and cause her to be disciplined."

"Such nonsense," snorts Poppy, "Creating all of this unnecessary drama and endangering Hermione's life over a boy."

"Hormones, my dear," pontificates Albus. "How much more smoothly could the school run if we could find a way to postpone puberty until the year after finishing Hogwarts?"

"An interesting concept," I reply. "Perhaps I shall begin researching it. I presume I may use Gryffindors as test subjects?"

Poppy bursts into laughter. "I can think of no house better suited or more in need of delaying puberty than Gryffindor."

"As a Gryffindor, I resent that statement," huffs Albus with a smile.

"As a Hufflepuff, I am fully in favor of it," teases Poppy.

"As a Slytherin, I am ready to implement it," I retort.

We have reached the gates. Poppy and I are ready to leave so she can return in time to supervise Miss Collingsworth's first evening of detention.

"I shan't be gone long," says Poppy. "I want to check Hermione once more and stand by while she apparates to ensure all goes well.

"Please wish Hermione luck for me," says Albus. "I will be working late on correspondence, so stop by if you would like to talk."

Poppy and I apparate to the Burrow

-----------------

"When I say you can return to your normal activities, I cannot emphasize enough that you must pay attention to your body," lectures Poppy. "You are just recovering from a very serious accident and you must not overdo it. When you are tired, go to sleep. When you are hungry, eat. Do not put any further stress on your body."

"Now you pay attention to what Poppy says, young lady," adds Molly to the overall lecture.

"Yes, ma'am," replies Hermione dutifully, understanding her place in this conversation.

"Severus has prepared a vitamin tonic for you," says Poppy, nodding at me. "I expect you to take it daily."

On cue, I produce two bottles of vitamin and mineral tonic and place them on the table. I have prepared it many times for Poppy to give students in need of building up. I have never bothered to flavor it before. The almond flavoring will make it more palatable.

"One tablespoon, twice daily," I intone, understanding my place in this conversation.

"Thank you for going to the trouble of making it for me," says Hermione smiling rather shyly.

"Remember to take it," I remind her.

Poppy resumes her lecture. "You can expect to tire easily until your body builds itself up again. Rest, nutrition, and moderate activity are your best bets for a steady recovery."

Poppy accepts a refill of her tea from Molly. "I think it would be wise to tell your friends you were ill over the spring holiday. They are likely to notice that you tire easily. I suggest you tell them you caught the sneazles."

"What a good idea, Poppy," praises Molly, "It's a perfect explanation for why you tire easily and need to take it slower than usual."

"Indeed," says Poppy, "Children born in the wizarding world take the Sneazles Prevention Potion at eighteen months of age. As a Muggleborn, you did not take the Prevention Potion until you came to Hogwarts. In some cases, it simply does not work for an older child.

"I've always heard that when adult wizards or witches catch it, the sneazles makes them much more ill than when children get it," adds Molly.

"It does," replies Poppy, "With modern treatments, it is rarely fatal anymore even when adults catch it. However, after the spots are gone and the person is no longer contagious, they are usually still debilitated for a while."

Poppy finishes her tea and looks like she is ready for us to leave so she can go back to Hogwarts.

"I have a detention to supervise tonight," says Poppy, "so we'd better be going."

"I cannot believe that girl did something so dangerous to a potion just because she was jealous of one of her classmates," says an outraged Molly. "I do hope you will make sure her punishment is severe enough that she thinks twice before doing any such thing again."

"She'll be spending her evening changing the bedding on the ward and rinsing it out by hand. Then she'll be going to work on vomit buckets and bedpans. We have two students staying overnight who have been vomiting slugs after hexing each other during an argument. Don't be concerned about Miss Collingsworth. She'll be learning a good deal about what it means to take care of sick and injured schoolmates."

"No magic?" asks Molly.

"No magic for cleaning," clarifies Poppy. "There might be other things where I'll have her do magic, if it is appropriate."

"I am concerned about taking 150 points away from Hufflepuff," says Hermione, biting her lower lip as she is inclined to do when worrying. "It is fair for Ravenclaw because we all know that any House gains or loses points based on the accomplishments or infractions of our Housemates. But, Hufflepuff didn't really have anything to do with the conflict between the two Ravenclaws."

"We have already discussed it with the Headmaster," I explain. "He realizes it was necessary to force a confession out of the perpetrator. Over the rest of term, Hufflepuff will regain the 150 points in small increments from all of the teachers. They will not realize what is happening."

"We have done this sort of thing before when necessary," adds Poppy.

"This will, of course, remain a well-kept secret," I emphasize. The last thing the teachers need is to lose this bit of leverage over the students' behavior.

"Molly and I won't tell anybody," says Hermione as Molly nods in agreement. "I think the consequences are more than fair and she will probably learn her lesson."

I am not surprised Hermione would be more merciful than I would be under the circumstances. She is too forgiving.

I still think Miss Collingsworth would gain further benefit by being required to hand scrub the Owlery after she finishes scrubbing the infirmary, followed by an assortment of disemboweling and pickling of potions ingredients. Then, I would put her in a body bind and leave her in the Forbidden Forrest at midnight during a full moon. That would be sufficient justice.

"Well, Hermione," says Poppy, "are you ready to try apparition?"

"Yes," she replies happily. "I really do feel fine."

"In that case, shall we adjourn to the garden?"

--------------------

Remus and I are waiting in the back yard at headquarters. Poppy stayed at the Burrow while I apparated ahead of her to monitor Hermione's arrival.

"How is she?" asks Remus.

"She seems much improved," I reply.

"That's good," he replies conversationally. "We had a real close call with her."

We are standing by in case Hermione splinches. It is not unusual for a witch or wizard who is just recovering from a severe illness or injury to have difficulties with apparition. It is standard practice to have a medical practitioner at the departure point and another responsible person at the destination to ensure the person travels safely. If disaster occurs, body parts are put under Stasis spells and reunited for an emergency trip to St. Mungos.

I am pleased that today's meeting is at headquarters. While the kitchen at the Burrow was a reasonable choice given Hermione's convalescence, it was obvious we would never find a private moment there. Molly and Arthur's hovering about precluded any possibility of being alone.

In truth, we did have a single moment alone even though Hermione was completely unaware of it.

It was unfair of me to take advantage when I arrived and saw that she was looking at me with such open eyes. I surrendered to the temptation and looked at the images on the very surface of her mind. It was the barest of touches, the lightest Legilimancy possible. She did not even realize that I was there. I was enlightened by what I found.

I made her happy by walking in the door.

None of my thoughts of the future ever drew me to a place where such a thing could be possible. When I understood what I was seeing, a part of me wished to announce to my compatriots sitting around the table that I was going to take Miss Granger for a turn around the garden. In the course of which I intended to make a Declaration followed by a Heartfelt Embrace and whatever Liberties Miss Granger would allow.

That would have got their attention.

A soft cracking noise can be heard and Hermione appears over by the bushes marking the edge of the anti-apparition wards. She laughs in delight at her successful and uneventful apparition. She walks towards us and we hear two more cracks as the Weasley twins arrive.

"It looks like you're back to normal, Hermione," says Remus, giving her a one-armed hug.

"I feel pretty good and now that I can apparate, I'll be able to return to the college on Sunday. I wouldn't have felt safe if I could only portkey in an emergency."

"Hey, Hermione," calls Fred, "Looks like Mum's trimmed back the umbilical cord if she let you apparate."

"She's liable to reconnect it if we don't get inside and floo the Burrow to let her know I got here all right," teases Hermione.

Once again, we do not manage a moment alone as Hermione is escorted into Headquarters.

--------------------

"We've got a source identified for the cocaine," says George. "It's Muggle and the cocaine is illegal. It means liberating it and using memory charms to cover up the crime we're perpetrating on the criminals."

"George and I will take care of it over the weekend," says Fred. "It's pretty low-risk for us, given that we're magical and they're not. It won't be reported to Muggle law enforcement or to the newspapers. The criminal types won't even remember anything about it. Dad will be standing by to Obliviate anyone who needs it."

"As an apprentice Auror," says Potter with a grimace, "I'm not sure I should be hearing about this."

"We don't have a choice," says Hermione, shaking her head regretfully. "We have to get moving on this right away and any attempt to procure cocaine through legal sources will bring too much attention our way."

We are all seated on transfigured laboratory stools around the potions bench in the middle of the laboratory. Potter and Bill have already shown us the pen they have put together for the garter snakes. Remus continues to protest the necessity and has declared he will be staying out of the lab once the snakes move in.

Remus is most fortunate I have mellowed as I have matured. Had I known of his fear of snakes in our Hogwarts years, I can guarantee the practical jokes would have been the stuff of legends. For the sake of setting a good example, I shall restrain myself.

For now.

"I want to make it perfectly clear that I will be doing all of the preparation and handling of the cocaine," I remark sternly. "I will not tolerate anything other than complete cooperation with this edict. As a licensed Potions Master, I am the only member of the Order who may have legal possession of such a substance. As it is, it may be difficult to explain to the authorities how we obtained the cocaine. Assuming we capture the Dark Lord and turn him over to those authorities, the Death Eaters will be in sufficient disarray that I hope to convince them that the cocaine was stolen from Death Eater stores. Since no one among the Death Eaters actually has an inventory of illegal materials and substances stored in the Dark Lord's hiding places, I am not overly concerned about anyone refuting this claim."

"You make a very good point, Severus," emphasizes Bill, "We can't take any chances with the cocaine. It's a controlled substance in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Until we make our attack against the Dark Lord, no one but you should have access to it."

"Not to worry on that account," declares Fred. "With what Hermione has told us about addiction taking away a wizard's interest and maybe even all ability to use magic, George and I don't want anything to do with handling the stuff after we steal it."

"We'll be more than happy to hand it over to you, Professor," adds George.

"As soon as you get your hands on it," I instruct, "Get it here to headquarters and floo me. I will take custody of the cocaine and store it in one of the secured cabinets here in the laboratory."

"That sounds like a good plan," confirms Remus.

"I believe that covers everything on tonight's agenda," says Hermione. "We've got the cage for the garter snakes. Bill and Harry will go out and start collecting them tomorrow. Charlie is getting the miniature Swedish short-snout firebladder extract and expects to have it to us by the middle of next week. George and Fred are going to steal the cocaine from the Muggle criminal element this weekend. Severus will work on making it into the crack cocaine form. After I return to the college on Sunday, I will do a literature search to see if I can get ideas for a delivery system for the potion we develop from the crack cocaine and the firebladder extract." Hermione ticks off items on her list and raises her head. "We still need to find a source for a runespoor."

"Isn't Hannah Abbott working at a place where they raise them?" asks Potter.

"Can we safely buy one or do we need to steal it?" asks George.

"I hate to say this," groans Potter, "but we'd better steal it. Runespoors have to be registered with the Department of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. We can't claim to be buying one as a pet. They are illegal for anyone other than licensed breeders, collectors, or researchers."

"How soon do we need one?" asks Remus, wincing.

"I will be working on finding ways to meld the firebladder extract and crack cocaine into a single inhalable potion," I explain, "I anticipate this will take a few weeks of experimentation with the garter snakes." I do some mental calculations to project when I will reach the stage where final testing will be needed. "I believe I will need a runespoor in about four weeks."

"I'll start looking into it," says Potter. "As a Parselmouth, I'm in the best position to pull off the theft safely."

"George and me will be glad to help you, mate," offers Fred. "With you being an Auror trainee and all, maybe we should do the actual theft while you talk to it to keep it calm. We'd rather not have to wrangle an angry runespoor."

"Yeah," says Fred, "A three headed snake can do some damage if it we make it mad."

"That's an idea," says Potter, "It would be better for me career-wise if I were more of a bystander in this caper."

"There will be a meeting of the strategy committee tomorrow night," remarks Remus. "We'll be ready to let them know what we've got planned."

"Lady and Gentlemen, I believe we are done," I declare.

Bill looks at Hermione. "Are you going to portkey back to the Burrow or apparate? If you're planning to apparate, I'll do receiving if Severus will do departing."

"I'll portkey home," replies Hermione. "I need to finish up the notes from the meeting before I leave."

"In that case," says Bill, "I'll head on back to Hogwarts."

After a bit more conversation, Bill and the twins depart. I am waiting somewhat less than patiently for Remus and Potter to go upstairs so I can have a moment or two alone with Hermione.

"Will you be coming back to headquarters tomorrow?" Remus asks Hermione.

"I have some brewing to finish for St. Mungo's," replies Hermione as she continues with her notes. "I'll be here in the morning."

"We'll see you then," says Remus who then turns to Potter. "You'll be here in the morning, so the three of us can have breakfast together before you have to leave to go on duty."

"That will work for me," replies Potter who is obviously planning to wait for Hermione.

How shall I toss him out of here so I can have some time alone with her?

"Harry," says Remus pointedly, "I need to fill you in on a few things from the strategy meeting the other night if you have a minute."

Potter looks at Hermione and then at Remus. Hermione is still scribbling notes.

"In that case," says Potter, looking back at Hermione and obviously reluctant to leave. "I'll be right upstairs."

We are alone at last. I lean back against the cabinet as Hermione finishes writing up the notes from tonight's work.

She looks lovely. Even in the harsh light of the lab, even though it is less than a week since she nearly died, she looks lovely. After the give and take of the meeting, she has healthy color in contrast with the pallor of a few days ago. Her hair is soft around her face, gleaming with hints of gold. Every line and curve of her face is dear to me, especially as she looks up at me and smiles. The topaz brown of her eyes meets mine, warmth shining through. I allow myself to smile back at her.

I hesitate only for a moment and take one step towards Hermione. She responds by crossing the rest of the space between us. My arms open and in an instant she is in them.

I never understood how good a simple embrace could feel.

I feel Hermione's hands as they reach around to encircle my waist and splay against my back. Her eyes close as she lays her head against my shoulder. I drop my head so my cheek is resting on her soft hair. I pull her closer and am pleased with the way she relaxes against me. She is so soft and warm, fitting perfectly against me. This is not sexual; this is more like… belonging.

For a moment, I know the perfect peace to be found in holding and being held with love.

We simply stand together. I have looked for this magic all my life and never found it until now with this gentle woman in my arms. I never believed I had any right to want it and never believed I could find it. In this moment in time, I understand the meaning of the word _miracle_.

My hand comes up and I stroke her long soft hair. In response, she strokes my back. My hand moves to her face. I place my index finger beneath her chin and I draw it up so I can look at her. She opens her eyes and returns my gaze. I can see yearning and so much more in her expression. All I would need to do is drop my head and our lips would meet, but now is not the moment.

We have had our moment and now we need to talk.

"Come and sit," I invite as I release her and pull up one of the stools. She accepts and sits as I take the one beside her. Hermione reaches out and takes my hand.

"It's all changed, hasn't it?" she says, drawing my hand between both of hers.

"Yes," I reply, squeezing her hand in response. "What exists between us has changed completely from where we were even six months ago. But, the world around us has not changed."

She draws my hand to her face and rubs her cheek against it.

"There's a part of me that would like very much to pretend that's not the case," she murmurs.

"I understand," I say to her softly, enjoying the feeling of her smooth skin brushing against the top of my hand. "It is very tempting to think we could ignore all other considerations that keep running our lives."

"Is this the part where we talk about reality?" asks Hermione as she lifts her head and looks at me with what I think is longing.

"I fear so," I reply.

In a gesture I have come to know very well, Hermione squares her shoulders and sits up very straight. She is still holding onto my hand.

I begin.

"You know the role I must play among the Death Eaters. There are times when even my thoughts are not my own. Each time I meet with the Dark Lord, it is very likely he will use Legilimency to probe my memories. Although my skills as an Occlumens have kept him out of my most important memories, I cannot be certain he will not find his way into memories that have a strong emotional connection. Riddle specifically looks for memories that a voyeur might enjoy. He seeks things that are powerfully emotional or passionate because he can use them to manipulate his followers. The stronger the emotion attached to a memory, the more likely he will find it.

"I cannot allow him to find you there."

"I understand," she answers softly, thoughtfully. "The closer we become, the greater the risk he will find some aspect of me in your thoughts. It puts you in more danger."

"And you as well."

I realize I have pulled her hand closer to me and I am rubbing my thumb across her palm. I stop myself and look down at where our hands are joined.

"Even this is a risk," I murmur.

"A major or minor risk?" asks Hermione, looking up at me. "What are the probabilities of him finding this memory behind your mental barriers?"

"The probability is low," I reply, "My mind is disciplined. It is unlikely he would find it, given my skills in Occlumency. It is a risk, nonetheless."

"And what of a kiss?"

"Also a risk. There are no guarantees."

"But unlikely?" she probes.

"Unlikely."

"What if we have one kiss?" asks Hermione, her eyes full of emotion. "Only one kiss when we are together. No other touching. Just one single kiss each day we are able to be together. It would be something to hold onto. An assurance that the feelings are there, even if we have to bury them until after the war is over?"

Could I hide a series of kisses? If we are restrained and do not allow ourselves to get carried away to the point where arousal begins, could I hide them from the Dark Lord? I consider the possibility carefully. I believe I can keep the Dark Lord from finding those memories as long as there are not too many of them. If there were too many, I could transfer some into a pensieve. In the meantime, I would find them…comforting. A chance to reaffirm that Hermione is mine, to hold onto that hope for the future. Do I have the necessary self-discipline to keep things from going too far? I do not know. I have never tested myself this way.

I look down at Hermione who is searching my face for a sign of what I am thinking.

"I believe I can hide kisses from the Dark Lord," I tell her. She looks so relieved and then delighted. "But, we must be careful. We must not cross over into passion or the memory will have to go into a pensieve." I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and draw a finger down to stroke the line of her jaw. I lean forward.

"Perhaps something like this," I whisper.

Our lips are inches apart and Hermione leans forward to close the gap. I can feel her soft breath in the moment before our lips meet. Hers are soft and smooth as they move against mine. She parts them and we deepen the kiss. I put my arms around her and pull her against me. She fits perfectly against me. I am tempted, but if I carry this farther the memory must go into the pensieve. I will begin to feel the kind of passion that will inevitably draw the Dark Lord towards the memory.

Regretfully, I pull back. I look at her sweet face and her eyes are still closed and lips parted. Her skin is flushed. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at me, one of those wonderful glowing smiles.

"I can live on that for a long time," she whispers.

"You will wait for me? Until there is a time and place where there can be more?" I ask.

"I will wait as long as it takes," she says, promise in her eyes.

--------------------------

Author's notes

Thank you to all my reviewers: Lilsnape, Ultigirl, Lilyginny27, Kim, Remus R Us, Keep, Lyndie578, Lucyferina, Keske, Severusandremusslash, Secretstrangeangel, Margaret Anne, Soul Chaser, Hebi R., Amsev, Pyro313, Mrs. Vladislaus Dracula, Rinnie08, Fairiechell, Emilia Geminus Aquila, KarlaMarie, JustYourAverageReviewer, Duj, Ebbe04, Notwritten, EvilMastermind666, LovesRickman, AndiScribbles, Sevvy Lover, ExcessivelyPerky, Starbridge, Mis Roxie, Jocemum, Quiet-mg, Latinachikita, Kirien, Squiggles,Candie, Tranquility, Lipasnape, Snape's Witch, Shadow, Indigo, Lady Slone, Kayla, Sam, Darque Hart, Koliber, Erytha, F75, Ami Mizuno1, Tigris, Keket Amunet, Maddie50, Danielle, MollysSister, Jade2099, T wrecks, Nottbook, Squeaker19450, Droxy, and Poiu.


	66. Chapter 66

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's Universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this chapter.

---------------------------------

Hermione  
April 11th, 1999

"Oh, Bill," I sigh, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he says, reassuringly. "I should have known better than to pick up Crookshanks and try to put him in the cat carrier when he doesn't know me all that well."

Crookshanks took a swipe at Bill's hand when he tried to put the little dickens into the cat carrier. At least it is something easily repaired. A healing charm and the scratches stop bleeding and are no more than a rapidly fading series of pink parallel lines on his hand.

"He really does like you," I assure him, "He just hates the cat carrier because he knows he's going to get sick to his stomach when we portkey."

"Don't tell me he throws up as often as you do?"

"More often," I confess, "I don't throw up every time, but Crookshanks does."

I look around the kitchen and check under the table to see if I can find that demon familiar of mine, but I suspect he's run upstairs and is hiding under a bed. "If you're okay, I'd better go hunt him down."

"He headed upstairs like the Grim was after him," says Arthur, walking into the kitchen and chuckling over Bill's obvious misfortune.

"Drat," I mutter, "This may call for luring him out with tuna and then he'll puke it up when we arrive in Chicago. Puked tuna is the nastiest…."

"You might try putting him in a body bind to get him into the carrier," suggests Molly. She has just come in the kitchen door, levitating a basket of linens in front of her. There's nothing like the smell of fresh air-dried sheets on a bed. Nothing magical can match it. Bill reaches out and takes the basket and sets it on the table for her.

"Are you two about ready to leave for Chicago?" asks Molly.

"As soon as Hermione recaptures Crookshanks," Bill replies.

Molly does a little wand waving and the towels float out of the basket and fold themselves into nice neat stacks on the table. I go to the pantry and select a can of tuna. It has a pull-top lid. Given Arthur's handy obsession with all things Muggle, bringing interestingly packaged food back with me is one of the ways I can repay them for giving me a home without offending anybody. I steel myself for the encounter and head for the stairs.

"Don't forget your shielding and blocking charms," calls Bill after me.

Brothers are so helpful.

Ten minutes and one can of tuna later, Crookshanks is limp under a sleeping spell. I had to lure him down from atop the wardrobe in Ginny's bedroom.

Crookshanks is a very intelligent half-kneazle. There will be a price to pay for this. I just hope it doesn't involve a hairball coughed up in a place where I'm not expecting to find it.

Walking down the stairs to the kitchen, I can hear them talking.

"Make sure that tin of oatmeal raisin biscuits is packed in Hermione's things," says Molly. "They should be good and healthy for her. I don't want her coming back home next time having lost half a stone like she did this time."

"Don't worry," says Bill, reassuringly, "I plan to talk to Anita Schuler and Draco Malfoy about keeping an eye on her and making sure she eats."

"I'd rather have kept her home another week," says Molly. "She needs more feeding up and rest. She won't take care of herself properly once she gets back to the college and the dormitory food isn't fit for a hag. She won't eat right."

"Yes, I will," I insist as I walk into the kitchen with a sleeping cat draped over my arm, "We're making arrangements for it in a way that should solidify Draco's impression that Bill is my new boyfriend."

Bill pulls out a purse of coins and sets it on the table. "There are enough galleons in here for Hermione, Anita Schuler, Draco Malfoy, and a few other friends to go out for dinner every night until the end of term. "I intend to give it to Miss Schuler and young Malfoy with instructions to make sure Hermione eats. That should go a long way to convincing them that Hermione and I are involved."

"The money is from some of the work I've done brewing fertility potions for St. Mungo's. With the thousand galleon bonus I'll be receiving, I can more than afford this," I assure them as I stuff Crookshanks into the cat carrier. I close the door and charm it shut. "I'll try portkeying with him asleep and see how that works."

"Good idea," says Arthur.

Bill picks up my weekender bag. I'm wearing my backpack and the cat carrier is ready to go.

Molly holds out her arms. "Give us a hug before you leave." I walk into her waiting arms and am wrapped up as tight as any daughter could hope for. We stay like that for a moment and then she hands me over to Arthur, who does the same.

This time, it's Arthur who lectures me.

"Follow Poppy's instructions," he reminds me, "Get enough sleep, don't overdo it, eat three meals a day, and take the vitamin tonic. If you start to feel ill, get to a healer right away and contact us. One of us will come to Chicago immediately."

"I promise," I tell him, returning his hug. It's so nice to have a second family. He releases me and I pick up Crookshanks in his carrier and all of us head out into the yard, past the wards. Molly and Arthur are standing arm-in-arm as Bill takes my hand and says the password for the portkey.

A few whirls and spins later, Bill and I are standing in the transportation room off the lobby of St. Germain Hall. I'm clutching his hand as I wait for the dizziness to pass. My stomach lurches, but everything stays in place. When I open my eyes, Bill is looking at me suspiciously.

"You get like this _every_ time you portkey?"

"It's embarrassing. I get car-sick, too," I confess. "The next time I'm in the lab, I'm going to make an anti-nausea potion for it."

He nods at me. "Are you ready for our first performance?"

I square my shoulders and give Bill a grin. "Shall we?"

"Lead on, MacDuff," he replies, returning the grin.

We exit the transportation room and stroll towards the lift. It's Sunday afternoon after a week off college and the lobby is crowded with other students who are returning from vacation. I'm a familiar sight, so no one is paying much attention to me, but I can see heads turning as the other students catch a glimpse of Bill.

Of course, what's not to notice? He looks like a younger version of Indiana Jones only with thick wavy red hair past his shoulders. What's more, his hand is at the small of my back in a rather possessive gesture. I see one of the students from my physics class do a double take and I want to laugh.

Hermione Granger, well-known local geek, is walking through the lobby with a man who is definitely a stud.

This is as good as when Victor Krum and I stepped out together at the Yule Ball during the Tri-Wizarding Tournament.

We make it to the lift, which is crowded with students and luggage. Bill towers over all of us and I'm trying so hard not to giggle. I can see the other girls taking surreptitious glances at Bill. We exit at the sixth floor and walk down to my room. We make it inside the door before we start to laugh.

"That went very well," remarks Bill, putting down the weekender bag.

"Yes, it did," I reply with a Cheshire cat grin, "Word will be all over the dormitory by nightfall. They're wondering who you are and what your relationship is with me."

"I've always wanted to be a man of mystery," says Bill, with the most delightful smile that shows in those wonderful blue eyes of his.

"You are definitely a man of mystery right now. They'll be beating on my door the moment you leave to find out the details," I tell him as I open the door to the cat carrier.

I reverse the sleeping charm and Crookshanks wakes up and looks at me, rather bleary eyed. He gets onto four feet and meanders out of the cage far enough to plop down on the rug. He sits there, delicately licking his paw, ignoring Bill and I.

"He looks fine," says Bill. "Maybe a sleeping spell is the way to go when you have to portkey somewhere with him."

"You may be right," I reply, watching Crookshanks. "I'll try this again next time." Satisfied that Crooks isn't going to keel over or anything, I look back at Bill. "Shall we go meet our contact?"

"By all means," he replies.

In minutes, we are back wading through the crowded lobby. I haven't seen Draco, Anita, or Warren, yet. Those are the key players we have to convince. However, based on the attention Bill and I are getting from the general crowd, I think we've accomplished a lot already just by walking around. Now, we are going to give the appearance of going for a walk in downtown Chicago so I can show Bill some of the sights. That's easy enough to do.

Bill's reaction is so much more sophisticated than Ron's was during the summer. There's no gaping in amazement at the cars or the buildings. I suppose living in Cairo for five years might do that for you. Bill's very much a cosmopolitan, probably much more so than I am.

It takes about fifteen minutes to reach our destination, the Monadnock Building on Jackson Street. It's one of the oldest skyscrapers in Chicago. We stroll in, take the lift to the fourth floor and look for the office of Bitner, Marples, and White, Ltd.

Bill gives the password, the door unlocks and we step into the deserted reception area. We go through the doorway with the _Marples_ nameplate on it and touch the glass butterfly paperweight on the desk.

Another portkeying and we are in a transportation room somewhere. Bill steadies me by holding my elbow. I could really benefit from a bit of a sit-down after two portkeyings in an hour. The door in front of us opens and a tall dark-eyed woman greets us.

"You must be William Weasley and Hermione Granger, right on time for your meeting with Mr. Schuler," she says, holding out her hand for Bill to shake.

I can't help but be impressed by her. She's slender like an Olympic swimmer, at least two inches taller than Bill, and has skin that gleams like copper over dark chocolate. She looks incredibly exotic, contrasting her dreadlocks with what looks like an Armani business suit.

We shake hands and she introduces herself.

"I am Laketha Kelly, a Special Security Agent at Digital Magic. I will be your primary contact," she explains as she directs us down a long carpeted corridor to an office. She taps the door handle with her wand. The door opens and we walk into an elegantly appointed reception area. A rather non-descript middle-aged man is sitting behind a desk.

"I have William Weasley and Hermione Granger here to see Mr. Schuler," says Ms. Kelly.

The man nods and pushes a button on the speakerphone and announces us.

"Go ahead, Laketha," he instructs her.

Laketha opens the door to a beautifully appointed office with a wall of windows looking over Lake Michigan. We must be at least fifty stories above ground. The office is enormous and furnished with chrome and leather in an ultramodern style. Unless I am mistaken, the painting on the wall behind the desk is a Jackson Pollock. I remember the style from an art exhibition Dad and I went to a few years ago.

Mr. Schuler is rising from the chair behind the desk and comes around the desk to greet us.

"Hermione," says Mr. Schuler, "It's good to see you again," he says as he takes my hand. He is smiling and I think he's entirely sincere. He turns to Bill, next. "You must be Professor Weasley," he says, offering his hand. Bill takes it and introduces himself.

I get the impression that along with the social niceties; the two men are sizing each other up.

I wonder what Mr. Schuler thinks of a wizarding schoolteacher who looks like he stepped out of a Muggle cinema?

An elf pops in, carrying a coffee service and a tray with what looks like tiny bagels and bowls with toppings.

Mr. Schuler invites all of us to sit at the table. Bill takes a seat next to me and Laketha sits across from both of us. Mr. Schuler assumes the seat at the head of the table and helps himself to coffee. The next few minutes are spent passing coffee, tea, and bagels. It seems Anita's father likes his smeared with peanut butter. There's a bit of chatting about how many stories above ground we are. Neither Bill nor I have been up so high in a building this tall, before. We take time to admire the view of Lake Michigan.

Now that the social niceties are attended to, I think Mr. Schuler is ready to get down to business. He sets aside his empty plate and the elf appears again and clears the table of the remainder of the plates and bagels.

"Both of you are aware of the arrangement between Albus Dumbledore and myself?" asks Mr. Schuler.

Bill nods. "Hermione and I are to act as couriers between you and the Headmaster," he explains. "We see each other regularly and both of us plan to travel between Hogwarts and Chicago on a routine basis. Since we have gone public with our relationship, no one will think twice about it."

Bill is definitely a much better actor than I. He smiled at me as he said the last part and reaches over to take my hand. I smile back at him, rather shyly in a way I hope comes across as smitten.

"Excellent," replies Mr. Schuler. "I have a packet of information prepared for the Headmaster, if you could give it to him."

"I'll be returning to Hogwarts after we are done here," replies Bill. "I'll deliver it to him right away. I also have one for you."

Bill reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope. He enlarges it and hands it to Mr. Schuler.

"Very good," says Mr. Schuler as he turns to Laketha. "Could you fill them in on the arrangements we've made for them?" She nods in return and he rises and returns to his desk, putting down the envelope and picking of a sheaf of papers. He places them in a manilla folder and then into an envelope.

"As Mr. Schuler indicated," says Laketha, looking very businesslike, "We take your safety very seriously. As you may have guessed, the Special Security Agents employed by Digital Magic serve a number of purposes. I myself am a fully trained hit witch and am personally charged with seeing to Hermione's safety." She looks at me reassuringly.

"When we need Hermione to pick up a packet, we will contact you in a variety of ways to prevent anyone from seeing a pattern. It could be by phone, by message Patronus, or other method. The password will be "MacGillicudy sent me," she explains.

"If you have a packet to get to us," she continues, "You may reach us by calling this phone number."

She hands Bill and I each a slip of paper. We peruse and memorize the telephone number.

"Before you leave, I will have each of you record your voice. We have a voice recognition device that uses both science and magic to verify the identity of the speaker. It uses the magical principles behind the foe glass to ensure that Polyjuice or disguise charms won't fool the voice analyzer. Either of you will be able to contact us by telephone. All you need to do is call the number you've been given and leave a message of any sort. Order a pizza, check on the status of your dry cleaning, ask the time a movie starts, anything you wish. The voice analyzer will confirm your identity and we will know we need to make contact."

"When you call, no one will be able to determine the correct number you punched in. Even if the telephone is tapped, which isn't going to happen now that we are responsible for your security, all they'll get is a scramble of numbers."

"As soon as we receive word from you, we will arrange a contact to tell you how we will bring you here. I will be your primary contact."

Mr. Schuler rejoins us with an envelope in his hand.

"You will always be brought to this building," says Mr. Schuler. "If I am not here, Laketha will receive whatever packet you have to deliver."

He hands the packet to Laketha, who reduces it and hands it to Bill.

"What if Laketha is not available?" asks Bill.

"I am always available," replies Laketha. "This is one of my most important responsibilities. I am on call for this twenty-four seven."

Bill raises an eyebrow. I can tell he is impressed.

Mr. Schuler takes his seat again.

"I understand you are going to take an apartment in Draco's building," he says to me.

"Yes," I reply. "Draco says the apartments on the top floor will be ready right after term ends. I'll be able to move in right away."

"Actually, you'll be able to move in sooner than that," says Mr. Schuler, looking amused. "I've used a little influence and I can promise that Avalon College administration will turn a blind eye when you, Draco, Anita, and Adam move into your apartments at the beginning of May. Since the top floor is empty, the contractor will be able to start on renovations immediately."

"How…." I start to ask when Mr. Schuler interrupts.

"I have a lot of influence," he smirks. "The security department wants the four of you out of the dorm as soon as possible."

Laketha takes up the explanations.

"We can best provide security for all of you in the apartment building," she says. "The dormitory has too many people coming and going at all hours. According to the company young Mr. Malfoy retained to ward the building and the lot, access will be restricted. We are arranging for additional warding at no cost to Mr. Malfoy and I'm afraid without his knowledge. We will know the identity of anyone who comes into the building in fairly short order."

"In particular, anyone who bears the Dark Mark."

I look at Mr. Schuler intently. I don't wish to put myself in the middle of whatever he might think about Draco and Anita's relationship. This would also preclude Severus coming to my apartment. I suppose that isn't overly important since he can't leave Britain without Voldemort knowing ahead of time.

"You understand that sooner or later, Draco's parents will come visit him at the apartment building." I mention hesitantly.

"I assure you," laughs Laketha, "An alarm won't go off, but we will be alerted. They won't know a thing. Even the most skilled wizard won't realize it. We are very, very good at what we do."

I cannot ask, but I am wondering how they got access to someone with the Dark Mark to test this. Bill and I will have to discuss the implications of all of this later. I wonder if my room in the dormitory is bugged in some way. I wonder if they've been monitoring everything Draco and I have done since we arrived. My thoughts go off on a tangent.

Anita and Draco working their way through the Kama Sutra.

My vibrator.

My journals.

Severus

I go from calm to near panic in an instant.

Damn.

"You are wondering if we've been spying on you," says a very perceptive Mr. Schuler. "We haven't and we won't intrude on your privacy inside your apartment. However, my security people have been keeping an eye on the dormitory. Both Anita and Adam live there along with one of Harry Potter's two best friends and the son of a known high-ranking Death Eater. I _will _keep my children safe."

Relief. I think he's telling the truth.

"Mr. Schuler," says Bill, "You are making me very uncomfortable. I understand you and Professor Dumbledore have agreed to an alliance. I generally trust his judgment, but it appears you have manipulated this situation to gain access to Hermione."

"To protect Hermione along with Adam and Anita," clarifies Mr. Schuler. "When you applied to the college, your name was already familiar to us given your relationship with Harry Potter. I confess to doing a little checking to see if you could be a potential conduit to the Order of the Phoenix. The murder of your parents and your alliance with the Weasley family when they took you in made it logical to assume you were solidly in Dumbledore's camp. I used a little more influence and arranged for you and Anita to be suitemates. It was an opportunity to get to know you."

I look at him suspiciously and have one word for him.

"Adam?"

Mr. Schuler grins at me, rather sheepishly. The look is charming and I wonder if it is rehearsed.

"Honestly," he says, "I had nothing to do with that. You and Adam hooked up all on your own."

"What about Draco Malfoy?" I ask.

"We believe he is caught in the middle between what he wants and his father's commitment to Voldemort," replies Laketha.

"You've been spying on Draco?" I demand.

"No, to that one, too," says Mr. Schuler emphatically. "I've gotten to know Draco through Anita and through my talks with him about his plans for the apartment building. I think he genuinely cares about Anita and when the time comes, he'll have a decision to make. If he makes the decision I hope he will, he will need protection. I want that protection in place and ready to go on a moment's notice."

That's astute. I certainly think Draco is caught between what he wants and what is expected of him.

"Are the two of you clear on what cooperation between my people and the Order means?" asks Mr. Schuler, leaning back into his chair. Laketha shifts and I can see she is looking back and forth between Bill and Mr. Schuler. Bill is studiously casual.

"I have been informed," replies Bill, "Hermione has not."

"You both need to know," decides Mr. Schuler. "I don't know why he has withheld this information from Hermione, but I think she needs to know."

"I doubt the information has been withheld from Hermione specifically. I suspect only a designated few within the Order know it."

"She's too important to operate in a vacuum," says Mr. Schuler. "If the shit hits the fan, she needs to know and I intend to tell her."

"I won't argue with that," says Bill.

I suspect my curiosity is all over my face.

"If things go badly in the Order's efforts against Voldemort," says Mr. Schuler, "I want as many surviving members of the Order as possible evacuated to the United States. We will need to know what they know about fighting Voldemort. I have promised Dumbledore they will go into deep hiding.

"We are an ally. We are not getting directly involved in the war at this time, but if Great Britain falls to Voldemort, we will intervene. All the wizarding resources I can pull together, which include considerable influence with the two wizarding governments of North America will go into the effort.

"I don't want it to get that far," continues Schuler. "If it does, we plunge the wizarding western world into war and risk exposure. I am confident we'd come out on top, especially if we put full resources into it before Voldemort can make inroads into Europe. I'd rather put the resources into the Order of the Phoenix to bring about victory than become directly involved. We don't need the kind of casualties the wizarding world experienced during the Grindelwald War. It will come to that if Voldemort expands to Europe.

"The wizarding government of the United States and Canada is notorious for expecting complete loyalty from whatever nations they have given wartime aid. Britain would lose a good deal of its independence. Both of you can see the disadvantages of that.

"Those resources include the brain power from particular instructors at the college. Technical assistance will be available. Professors Boch and Littlehorse are ready and willing, along with a few dozen others. It will be available quietly and discretely. You can bring them questions related to technical assistance about _anything_ and they'll help. Headmaster Dumbledore knows this. I suspect this will be one of the tasks he will have in mind for the two of you."

"That could be very helpful," I reply. "Professor Boch has already approached me about this."

"We agreed that he could do that to help prepare the way for me to meet with Albus Dumbledore and make the offer myself," says Mr. Schuler. "I realize the Order doesn't establish alliances frivolously. I needed to offer an incentive."

I decide to keep silent about any opinions I have on the matter. Seeing this, Mr. Schuler continues.

"Laketha will fill you in on the rest of the arrangements we have made for you."

"We will be monitoring the apartment house," says Laketha, looking at me. "If the wards are broken by anyone bearing the Dark Mark, we will know and we will take steps to secure your safety. If necessary, we will get you out of there and moved to a safehouse." She turns to Bill. "If something happens over in Britain that causes the Order to think Hermione is at risk, contact us at the number you have and we will secure her situation."

"That's good to know," replies Bill.

"If something happens that results in the Order needing to get a lot of people out of the country, have them make their way to any chain retailer a major city in the United States that sells Digital Magic computers. There is a witch, wizard, or squib on Digital Magic's payroll of each store. It makes marketing our products to the wizarding public much easier," she added in a confidential tone.

"Our employee will very likely recognize your refugees and will make the necessary contacts, which will bring us to your aid within minutes. We'll take care of the memory charms for any witnesses who see something they shouldn't. If it comes down to it, have them get into the United States or Canada and find a way to contact Digital Magic. We'll come and get them."

"I assume the Headmaster knows all of this?" asks Bill.

"This information is in the packet you will be taking to him today, including an extensive list of stores and other ways to make contact with us," explains Mr. Schuler.

"Also, if either of you need to get here and there is no time to make a phone call, all you need to do is get to one of the faculty transportation rooms at the college," adds Laketha. She pulls out a sheet of paper listing the buildings on campus and room numbers and hands it to me. "Another thing for the two of you to memorize. When we take your voice scan, we will also do a retinal and magical signature scan. This will enable either of you to get into the faculty transportation rooms. Push any of the buttons on the control panel in the room and you will find yourself in the room that you arrived in here."

"Clever," says Bill.

"Efficient," says Laketha.

"I believe this wraps up our meeting," says Mr. Schuler abruptly as he looks at his watch. "I have a commitment in about fifteen minutes." He looks up at us. "Any other questions?"

Bill and I both shake our heads in refusal.

"In that case," says Mr. Schuler, "I will turn you over to Laketha to finish the security arrangements.

It looks like Mr. Schuler is in a hurry. Bill and I rise, bid our goodbyes, and leave with Laketha. In short order, we have been retinal scanned, voice recorded, and our magical signatures verified. We don't converse much. Bill and I need to get someplace where we can talk privately.

It takes about half an hour, but we reach the playground in the park a few blocks from campus. We sit down on one of the benches and in some of the most subtle wand movements I've ever seen, Bill casts silencing and Muggle deflection charms.

"That was rather scary," I remark as soon as Bill's done.

"No kidding," replies Bill, shaking his head. "Daniel Schuler has probably had his fingers in this business ever since you requested a catalog from the college."

"It sounds like he's been looking for a person to connect him to the Order for a while. How much of what has happened since I've been in the States has been manipulated by him in one way or another?" I wonder out loud.

"I don't think it's possible to know, but at least you are aware of it and can be prepared," says Bill. "When we get back to St. Germaine Hall, I'll do a thorough check of your room to see what monitoring spells might be present. I've got some Muggle detection devices for electronic surveillance that I learned about when I was with Gringotts. They're stored at headquarters, for obvious reasons. Even the magic at the Burrow is too strong for them. The next time I come, I'll check your room thoroughly for Muggle devices.

"Do you think it's a good idea to move into the apartment?" I ask.

"Schuler is right when he says that it will be easier to protect you, Malfoy, and Schuler's son and daughter if all of you are living in the apartment building," he says. We stop talking and watch for a moment as half a dozen Muggle children run laughing around the park bench. It is obvious the charm is working as they do a ninety-degree turn and head for the swing set.

"I wouldn't assume he is telling the truth when he says his security people aren't going to monitor what goes on inside the apartments. When you move into your apartment, I'll come for the weekend to help. I've got a few tricks up my own sleeve. I can check the apartment thoroughly and let you know exactly what wards and monitoring spells are present so you can respond accordingly. I'll teach you some routine spells so you can check yourself. We may want to add additional wards for your safety."

"That will be helpful," I reply. "There's nothing like having a big brother who is a DADA Professor and a professional curse breaker."

"Works both ways," says Bill as he gives me a gentle poke in the arm, "I get a little sister who can brew just about any healing potion I might ever need."

We both chuckle at that one. It's a rather indirect reference to my apparently rare virgin condition.

"One more thing," I add, "You understand his reference to the wizarding government of the United States and Canada expecting complete loyalty from other nations they help?"

"It certainly raises the question of Schuler's fundamental reason for doing this," replies Bill thoughtfully.

"I don't think there's much question about it," I speculate. "He doesn't want us to owe the wizarding government. He wants us to owe _him_."

"Exactly," says Bill confidentially. "What will he want in return?"

"I think he wants power," I reply. "I don't think he's a Voldemort, but he's got a finger in a lot of cauldrons. I think he wants influence and an invitation to economic opportunities in wizarding Britain."

"I think you're right," says Bill, tapping his finger to his lips. I can tell he's thinking. "I'm going to pass along our speculation to Albus and ask for a meeting of the inner circle of the Order. They need to know this."

"We'd best get back to the dorm, then," I suggest. "You have to get back to Scotland."

"We have our most important performance, next," coaches Bill. "Are you ready?"

"All set," I reply.

-------------------------------

Bill and I return to my dormitory room where Crookshanks and Thekla are chasing the enchanted catnip mouse. Thekla catches it and dashes out the cat door with Crookshanks hot on her heels.

We've planned out what we are going to do. Bill cast a charm on the lift so we will be alerted when either Draco or Anita get off at the sixth floor. Until then, we wait.

Bill walks through the room, his wand moving in patterns as he scans the room for spells. I can see sigils and what looks like Egyptian hieroglyphs glowing in the air. He nods to himself or shakes his head as he works. Then, he unplugs the telephone and proceeds to disassemble the handset. After checking it, he reassembles it and goes on to take the light bulbs out of the lamps and look inside the sockets. He transfigures one of my biros into a screwdriver and removes the plates from the electrical outlets.

"It looks like Schuler was telling the truth when he said there was no monitoring inside the dorm room," he remarks. "There's nothing here I can find other than your own personal wards. I've a few ideas how you can strengthen them."

Bill tutors me through an assortment of warding spells. They are more potent than anything in the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. He supervises while I apply one of them to the desk drawer where I keep my paired journals. They are supposed to self-destruct if anyone but myself tries to open them, but it can't hurt to provide extra protection.

"When you move into your apartment," says Bill as he examines my computer, "I'll help you with the rest. No one will get into your apartment without your conscious free-will invitation."

Being one who can take a hint, I come over and show Bill how to boot up the computer and access the Internet. Unlike his youngest brother, he can actually entertain himself. He's having a great time looking at the BBC website and has started searching to see if the newspapers in Cairo have websites.

The pencil Bill charmed as a signal starts to glow. He grabs his jacket and I open the door. We both step out and act like he is getting ready to leave. I see Anita from the corner of my eye as Bill reaches out to take my hand. She stops cold and I have to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Bill is so good looking, almost ten years older than I am, and he is acting like a boyfriend.

This is a new image for Hermione Granger.

I turn my attention away from Bill and act like I have just seen Anita. I give her a big smile.

"Hi, Anita."

"Hello, Hermione," she says, that rather amazed look on her face. "I'd ask how your vacation was, but I think I can guess."

The three of us burst into laughter and I make introductions.

Bill, in full charm mode, holds out his hand. Anita takes it, obviously impressed.

"I'm sorry I can't stay, but I've got to get back to Hogwarts," he says, "Classes to teach in the morning and all that."

"If it's alright, I'll walk the two of you down to the transportation room," says Anita.

Good. She's taken the bait.

"Of course," says Bill, giving her the benefit of his full attention with those gorgeous blue eyes of his. Honestly, the man is oozing charm and he's doing it mostly with body language and facial expression. Next, he turns that attention to me and takes my hand for our little stroll down the hallway. No wonder he's got such a reputation.

The three of us are in the lobby before we have a chance to talk. The transportation room is flooded with students returning from home visits, so Bill has to wait until there's a window of opportunity for a departure.

"So, what _did_ you do over vacation?" asks Anita.

"I was sick most of the time," I reply, "So I didn't do much of anything."

"Though it gave us time to spend together," adds Bill, "Since we were quarantined at my parents' home for a few days. Once Hermione was diagnosed with the sneazles, none of us could leave until she passed the contagious stage. Any of us could have been carriers."

"Sneazles?" asks Anita. "I didn't think anybody got the sneazles anymore. We all get the preventative."

"Unless you're a Muggleborn," I say with very put-upon sigh. "I didn't get it until I was almost twelve and apparently it doesn't always work unless you get the preventative as a small child."

Bill reaches out comfortingly and puts his arms around me. I lean into him and just enjoy the moment. I feel his lips brush my hair. This really is rather nice. Nice and brotherly.

I wish he was Severus. I could really get into it then.

"What Hermione probably won't tell you is that we almost lost her," says Bill, sounding very convincingly worried. "She had a high fever that wouldn't break until we immersed her in cold water."

I am ever so tempted to give Bill a quick shot to the ribs.

"Magical remedies didn't work?" asks Anita.

"Not well enough," I explain. "It was a radical idea, but it kept the fever from frying my brain."

The door to the transportation room opens and I'm pleased to see Warren coming out. He spots Anita and waves. He sees me and waves. He sees Bill and starts walking in our direction.

It's probably a very good thing Bill and I are rather wrapped around each other. This has the potential to be very interesting.

"Hello, gorgeous," says Warren to Bill in his best Barbra Streisand imitation.

I can't help it. I start to chuckle into Bill's chest. Bill's looking at Warren and has noticed what is fairly obvious. His arm tightens around me again and he's giving off all kinds of signals that we are a couple; a happy heterosexual couple.

I pull back a little so I can make introductions.

"Warren Stevens, this is Professor Bill Weasley from Hogwarts," I say as casually as I can while restraining the fit of giggling that wants to break loose. Warren is giving Bill the once over and likes what he sees, but he also sees that Bill is involved with me and probably not of the proper persuasion to have potential for Warren.

At that moment, the Residential Advisor who is monitoring the transportation room waves us over. He tells us that Bill will be able to leave in about three minutes.

We don't have much time left, so Bill launches into the most important part of the scenario we planned out.

"I have two favors to ask of both of you," says Bill, looking mostly at Anita. "Hermione was very ill over Easter. It isn't likely, but sometimes an adult getting over the sneazles can have a relapse. If she gets sick, especially showing signs of uncontrolled chills or disorientation, get her to a healer straight away and send word to me and my parents. One of us will travel here straight away."

Anita nods and Warren is looking at me with concerned surprise.

"The other favor is to make sure she eats," he continues.

As we agreed, I look up at him with an expression of annoyance.

Bill gives me an affectionately stern look in response.

"I know the cafeteria food is appallingly bad," he says. Bill reaches into his jacket and pulls out the purse filled with jingling galleons. "Anytime there's a meal not fit to eat, take her out or order in. There's enough here to take all of you out through the end of term in May."

I open my mouth as if to protest and Bill swoops down and in an instant his mouth is on mine for a silencing kiss. In keeping with the plan, my arms go up around his neck, his arms are around my waist and shoulders and he tilts me back in a passionate embrace of the kind seen mostly on movie screens.

We continue this way for a long moment and then come up for air.

Anita is looking at Bill and me in wonder.

Warren is looking at me with envy.

Draco is standing in the doorway of the transportation room, gaping with astonishment.

It worked!!!

--------------------------

Meanwhile, back at Digital Magic's Corporate Headquarters

"Everything is in place that we need to keep the situation secure for your children and Hermione Granger," says Laketha Kelly.

"We need to be prepared to provide Draco Malfoy with protection, too" says Daniel Schuler as he taps his fingers on his desk. "He's to be taken to a different location. We can't be sure his father doesn't have a blood kin tracking spell on the boy and we don't want the Death Eaters to be able to find my children and Hermione through Draco."

"We're prepared for that eventuality, as well," says the rather non-descript middle aged man who had been manning the desk outside the office. "There's a separate safe-house in North Dakota for young Mr. Malfoy."

"Very good," replies Daniel, pensively. "What do we know about Professor Weasley?"

"Quite a bit," answers the middle aged man. "His dossier is on your desk."

"I'd like a genealogical analysis on him and the usual data required for Arithmantic projections. I'm wondering if we ought to consider him for recruitment."

"From what I've read about him," answers Laketha, "He's very talented. There are six brothers and one sister. All of them have real potential, except there's a good probability that one of the brothers has aligned himself with Voldemort.

"I doubt we'd get the whole family," muses Daniel. "But, Professor Weasley was willing to leave England to live in Cairo for several years. We might be able to get him here, especially if he's involved with Hermione."

"Nothing is likely to happen until the situation in England is resolved," adds the middle aged man.

"Agreed," says Daniel. "So, are all the Special Security Agents briefed on the situation and ready to go?"

"Absolutely," laughs the middle-aged man. "We all know Laketha Kelly's backstory and are ready to operate at a moment's notice.

The middle aged man punctuates his remarks by making the necessary physical changes. He is now considerably taller, his skin much darker, and his physical features change dramatically as breasts form, his waist narrows, and his shoulders become broader. His short hair lengthens into black dreadlocks.

Standing next to Laketha Kelly is another Laketha Kelly.

Laketha, on the other hand, begins to morph into another form. Her skin changes color and she drops almost a foot in height. Instead of muscular and athletic, she is now sleight and the dreadlocks disappear as her black hair becomes long, smooth, and shiny. Her almond eyes and delicate features are Asian.

"All of us are able to do Laketha," says the middle-aged man in Laketha's throaty voice.

"The ten of us will ensure that one of us is always on duty during this critical period you've predicted," says the woman with a pronounced Japanese accent. "Any of us metamorphagus agents can become Laketha as soon as she is needed."

"Very good, Keiko" replies Daniel, looking at the two approvingly over his steepled fingers. "I won't forget how hard your team has worked on this project. I will remember come bonus time."

The three exchange very pleasant smiles.

----------------------------

Author's Notes

For anyone who was concerned about the last chapter being posted late, it was actually posted right on schedule. Now and then, this website has problems with the reader notification function breaking down. I don't think you guys were notified that Chapter 65 was posted until a week after it was already up. I am in the habit of posting every other Friday. If you don't get a notice, check the story on Fridays. I usually post very early in the morning (Central USA time).

The Monadnock Building is a real historical landmark in downtown Chicago, located at 53 West Jackson Boulevard. It was started in 1889 and finished in 1893. Seventeen stories tall, it is one of the oldest skyscrapers in the city. By modern standards it is just a wee thing, but it was the world's largest office building at the time. One half of the building was built using load bearing walls and the other half is steel framed construction. The first half of the building was so heavy, it sank partway into the ground and had to have steps dug down to reach the entrance. As a result, the building has two markedly different architectural styles from one end to the other. The building is full of character and I thought it a perfect location for a wizarding business office.

I appreciate each and every review. Thank you to: Not so Chicken Little, Droxy, Rinny08, A Perfect Lie, Pure Girl, Ami Mizuno1, Soul Chaser, Blackxhole21, Erytha, Evil-Mastermind666, Sam, Excessivelyperky, Andi-Scribbles, Ebbe04, Sarah and Lupin, Lyndie578, Saz, Lucyferina, Alaynthe, Keket Amunet, Secretstrangeangel, AnokiNantaras, Quiet-mg, Angel-Tears-16, The Lioness in Winter, LoveRickman, Jocemum, Jade2099, SquigglesCandi, Miroku75, Bronyr, Squeaker19450, Duj, KK Duke, KarlaMarie, WampeLampe, Notwritten, Starbridge, Green-Eyed-Angel, Lilsnape, Fariechell, Droxy, Shadow, Latinachikita, Arime Setta, CinnamonMonty, HebiR, Teddy240b, MuggleMomof3, Danielle, Nottbook, Mother of Tears, Venomequeen83, and Maxine Durchova


	67. Chapter 67

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this chapter and offering input.

Kudos to Katyes who has translated 38 chapters of _Looking For Magic_ into German.

--------------------------  
Severus  
April 12th, 1999

These before breakfast meetings in Albus' office are happening too frequently. Just because Minerva and Albus are inclined to go to sleep earlier rather than later is no reason to disturb the habits of the rest of us and mine in particular.

"Daniel Schuler is definitely a man with his own agenda," says Bill Weasley, looking refreshed for a man who has traveled to and from North America in a span of a few hours. "Hermione and I agree that he wants wizarding Britain to owe him the equivalent of a wizard's debt for helping to save our collective hides."

"I am not surprised to learn this," says Albus, refilling his tea cup. "When we met with him last month, he impressed me as the consummate businessman. He did propose to help us in ways that are ultimately mutually beneficial."

"He sounds like a candidate for Slytherin," observes Minerva, giving me a sly look.

"As Head of House for Slytherin, I would be pleased to have such an accomplished businessman come from my house," I reply with a smirk. "This does give us an advantage in dealing with him. As careful as he might be, we will always know that there is a degree of self-interest in anything he does for us and that a bill for services rendered will be presented at some point."

"It is a pity I cannot have you deal with him directly," replies Albus, looking amused. "There is nothing more interesting than watching two very accomplished Slytherins try to out-negotiate each other.

Minerva and Bill laugh. I simply offer what I think is a rather predatory smile.

"We can make a reasonable guess at what he wants," I remark. "The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters follow a philosophy of Pureblood cultural superiority. If they win, there will be total separation between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. If that philosophy expands into Europe and other parts of the world, much of the growth potential for Schuler's business interests will vanish.

"If conquest expands to North America, Mr. Schuler will find himself fighting for survival. Whatever other reasons he may have for providing us with assistance, he is operating on the principle of enlightened self-interest."

"The principle of enlightened self-interest does not preclude having a positive motivation for his actions," adds Albus. "Whatever lies behind his actions, it is still his actions that count the most. Thus far, the only action he has taken has been to manipulate Hermione Granger into a position where he could use her to make a connection with us. In the process, he may actually be keeping her safer than we could have done on our own."

"He made the point pretty strongly that if Riddle wins here, he wants as many key members of the Order to come to America as possible," says Bill.

"That is only logical," I comment. "We have the most experience in dealing with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. If Britain falls to the Dark, Schuler's people will need everything we know to prevent Riddle from expanding his conquest."

"Very well," says Minerva, "I will accept that actions speak louder than words. However, much of the action Schuler takes is behind the scenes. He may have done things we know nothing about. He told Bill he intends to manipulate the warding of Draco Malfoy's apartment building without Malfoy knowing about it."

Minerva purses her lips and shakes her head. "Is it wise to allow Hermione to move into this apartment building? In spite of Mr. Schuler's precautions, it could make it much easier for the Dark Lord to acquire her. All he needs to do is give Malfoy the order and the young man would have no alternative."

"That could be true at any time, regardless of where Hermione is living," I reply. "Hermione is an accomplished witch, but she could not defeat Draco Malfoy in a duel given that he has received Death Eater level training in those skills. If Draco is instructed to capture Hermione, he will notify Lucius immediately who would certainly tell me. I presume our best strategy at that point would be to ask Schuler's people to protect her."

I turn to Bill. "Do you believe Schuler is telling the truth when he says his people will monitor activity in and around the building?"

"He says he will ensure the safety of his own children," replies Bill. "With his resources, I suspect the company installing the wards around the apartment building will do whatever he wants, including adding or modifying wards to suit his security department. Schuler said specifically that anyone entering the premises who bears the Dark Mark will trigger a silent alarm notifying his security people. While we were at his office, we met one of his security agents. Her name is Laketha Kelly and she described herself as a fully qualified hit witch. If she is typical of his security people, I think I am safe in saying Daniel Schuler hires the best."

Bill pauses to collect his thoughts. "Schuler did say that there were no spy charms in the private rooms of the hall of residence. When we went back to the dormitory, I did a thorough check of Hermione's room for any sign of monitoring spells or Muggle listening devices. I found no sign of any or magical signatures indicating the spells had been there and removed. If Schuler told the truth about that, he may be telling the truth about his plans for the apartment building.

Albus strokes his beard thoughtfully.

"This may very well be the safest situation for Hermione," he speculates. "If the building will be continually monitored and the presence of anyone with the Dark Mark will trigger an alarm, she will receive more protection than is available in the hall of residence."

"The Dark Lord has indicated no interest in Hermione Granger since she began attending the college," I reiterate. "His interest in her was strictly related to his belief that she was sexually involved with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

"From all appearances," I add, "the Dark Lord has accepted Draco Malfoy's observations and report and believes that the two young men have not traveled to Chicago to visit her. He has not questioned me about what I may have heard of her through the Order. She has slipped from his awareness for the moment."

"That is reassuring," remarks Minerva as she refills my tea cup. "Will her new _romance_ with Bill attract his attention?"

"I hope not," says Bill. "My life is complicated enough already."

'Try my life, sometime,' I think to myself.

I consider the situation carefully. Draco will certainly have to report this piece of information to his father. Lucius will pass it onto Voldemort. The Dark Lord believes Hermione Granger is promiscuous and has had an affair with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Will he believe that Bill Weasley will accept his younger brother's leavings?

My thinking is not entirely dispassionate. Hermione is _mine_. She is _not_ Bill Weasley's. She is _not_ promiscuous. She is a maiden in the purest sense of the word and she is _mine_. However, no one is supposed to know my intentions.

I run my hand through my hair in frustration.

The best cover for Hermione would be for Bill to act like she has been passed onto him for his enjoyment, a well-used toy cast aside by his brother. Their relationship should appear intensely sexual and of a sort that will burn out quickly.

I do not want Hermione to give even the appearance of such, yet it is probably in her best interests under the circumstances. The primary objective must always be to keep her out of the Dark Lord's interest.

"What exactly did Draco Malfoy see when he encountered you and Hermione in the lobby of the hall of residence?" I ask Bill.

For some reason, Bill looks like he is reluctant to tell me.

"Hermione and I put together a plan to convince her friends at the college that we were courting. Part of it was to enlist their help in getting Hermione to eat properly by giving them the money to take her out as often as they needed to. The other part was for them to see us kissing."

They were play acting. That is all it was. There is no reason for me to maim or dismember Bill Weasley. Hermione was obligated to put on a convincing display for the benefit of the audience.

"We were waiting in line at the transportation room for my turn to depart. I was kissing Hermione goodbye in front of her friends when Draco arrived. He looked very surprised. I had no more than one minute before I had to leave, so there was little opportunity to assess Draco's response to what he saw. I don't know if he was surprised to see me, surprised to see me kissing Hermione, or both."

"Bill," asks Albus, "Has Hermione communicated with you since you left via your paired journals?"

"I've not heard from her, yet," he replies. "Hermione was tired after walking around downtown Chicago and our meeting with Daniel Schuler. She said she'd write to me in the morning. It's about 1:30 am there. I wouldn't expect to see anything in the journal until lunchtime here."

Good. I daresay I shall receive a message from Hermione first.

"In that case," says Albus, "I believe we should reconvene this evening. We need to know what took place after Bill departed and must wait until Hermione communicates with us. That will give me time to read through the packet Schuler sent me. I will ask Remus to join us tonight."

"Shall we adjourn to the Great Hall for breakfast?" says Minerva, rising.

I offer her my arm and we lead the way to the Great Hall.

----------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Hermione to Severus  
April 12th, 1999

_Dear Severus,_

_Bill told me that he planned to meet you, Albus, and Minerva at breakfast to tell you about our meeting with Daniel Schuler. Given that Scotland is six hours ahead of Chicago, I am probably repeating what he has already told you. _

_Mr. Schuler seems to have manipulated more of our situation than I had realized. He stated that he arranged for Anita and me to be suite mates in St. Germaine Hall. It was his plan to make a contact with the Order through me. I don't believe Anita had any idea of this being the case. When I first met her, Anita said that she had to persuade her father to allow her to stay in the dormitory when she took the job as an aide for computer camp. _

_I have been a guest at their home several times. Mostly, it has been for lunch or dinner with Anita and Draco, twice as Adam's guest, and once at a cocktail party of sorts that Mrs. Schuler arranged for networking purposes. Mr. Schuler hasn't been present at all of these events. I believe my friendship with Anita and Mrs. Schuler is genuine. I've had very little interaction with Mr. Schuler and don't feel like I know him at all._

_I did ask him if Adam dated me at his request. Mr. Schuler denied it._

_Just to clarify things, Adam and I dated in September and October. We broke up because I wasn't really interested in him. By the end of October, I knew my interests were moving in a wholly different direction. _

_Adam is nice, but he's not fascinating or brilliant. There's only one man who has ever kissed me in a way that made my toes curl._

_That is especially true of my play acting with Bill. We agreed to put on an act for my friends. It worked well enough that Draco looked convinced at the time. I presume he will tell his father, who will tell another interested party that Ron and Harry aren't involved with me anymore and I've moved onto Ron's brother. _

_That sort of misdirection can only help you and me to keep our business private._

_I am so looking forward to our next opportunity to be alone and fully anticipate that my toes will curl up as that wonderful tingle runs straight down my spinal column when we have our one kiss. _

_By any chance, are your earlobes sensitive? I would like to explore that question next time I see you. I would think there are applications of the scientific method here. We can answer one question at a time in the most interesting ways._

_I suppose I should return to the business of the Order instead of getting caught up in other areas where the speculation is so much more fascinating._

_Back to the meeting with Mr. Schuler. My instincts tell me that he means what he says about helping the Order and that he will make resources available for our use. I also believe he has his own agenda. He must be aware that the Order has members or associates with considerable power within wizarding Britain. He must believe the Order can help him gain connections and power, but only if we win. _

_During the meeting, Mr. Schuler made a point of telling me that he wants the Order to evacuate to the United States should we lose. If it comes to that, he truly will have thrown his lot in with us and put himself and his family at risk. If such an evacuation is necessary, we need to find a way to block your Dark Mark so Riddle can't find you. _

_My last class today finishes at 2:30 pm. I'm planning to go to the library and use one of the open-access computers to do a search for charms that turn solids into gases. That way, the search can't be traced back to my student identification. I'll poke around a bit and see if there is anything I can find about blocking binding tattoos. I have no doubt you've already read everything in Hogwarts Library related to the subject. There may have been something developed outside of Europe that could apply. I've been assuming the mark is a tattoo of some sort, ever since I saw it when I treated you for Cruciatus. Is that correct or should I look in a different direction? _

_I just want to be sure all the possibilities are covered. We can win against Voldemort with our weapon, but if something goes wrong we should still have a backup plan. You have to be able to go into hiding with the rest of us._

_Am I being overly paranoid about not risking someone figuring out what I am researching? It seems unlikely anybody would be monitoring how I access the college library. At the same time, Mr. Schuler has a lot of power and influence. If he can get the company installing the wards at Draco's apartment building to add extra wards and alarms to the system that Draco will know nothing about, he could have someone monitoring my personal computer use. _

_Drat. As far as I can tell from my discussions with the librarians at the college, there aren't any other wizarding libraries in North America that are as extensive as Avalon's. Even the wizarding government isn't reputed to have one as good. North America hasn't been colonized long enough to have libraries with centuries-old collections._

_After you and the other Order members discuss Bill's observations and Mr. Schuler's offer, please advise me as to how careful to be. Do we want anyone at Avalon to know anything about our weapon? _

_Returning to personal issues, I feel fine. I used a very mild warming charm this morning and found it to be adequate for staying comfortable in the dormitory. I'll renew it before going to classes. _

_After dinner, I promise to stay in the dorm, get my studying done and to bed early. It's wonderful to sleep without nightmares. _

_I'm off to breakfast. Watery scrambled eggs, cold soggy toast, and bacon swimming in grease. Perhaps the oatmeal will still be hot. I am envious of your wonderful Hogwarts breakfast._

_Love,  
__Hermione_

----------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Draco to Severus  
April 12th, 1999

_Severus,_

_Thank you for the Occlumency practice while I was home during the Easter holidays. I have taken your suggestions to heart and have selected specific memories of my time with Anita to give to the Dark Lord, should he decide to look. I have recreated the Hogwarts library in my mind and have shelved those memories in the form of books. I am practicing the mental imagery of throwing the books off the shelves so the Dark Lord can see them. _

_I'm grateful this is simply a mental image. If I'd done such a thing at Hogwarts, I'd still be in detention with Madam Pince._

_When I return home in May for the Slytherin and Gryffindor match, I would like to practice again. The books are open when I imagine throwing them. When viewed through Legilimency, the memories should be visible but not the books. I need your feedback to tell me if I am throwing the books fast enough for the memories to look smooth and random. It won't do me any good if the Dark Lord realizes what I am doing._

_I can't wait to see Slytherin give Gryffindor a good thumping. It will be a proud moment when you accept the House Cup for Slytherin. I wish I could be at the Leaving Feast to see the banners change to green and silver like they should have been the last seven years. It was sickening to come so close every year and then have Dumbledore cheat us out of it by loading up Potty and his friends with points they didn't deserve._

_Speaking of Potter's friends, there has been an interesting development here. Hermione Granger came down with a bad case of the sneazles over the holidays. You already know that Granger has been living with the Weasleys when she isn't at Avalon. According to Anita, Granger and Professor Weasley became involved while she was recovering. _

_I returned to the dormitory yesterday evening and saw the two of them together as I was coming out of the transportation room. They were caught up in a rather passionate kiss at the time. Professor Weasley had to leave to go back to Hogwarts, so there was no real opportunity to talk to him. _

_Granger said she was worn out from being sick and then traveling, so she went back to her room straight afterwards. I'll worm the story out of her over the next day or two. That's something the Dark Lord would be interested in. I've already told Father about it through our paired journals. _

_There's nothing I've observed about Granger that should cause the Dark Lord to be concerned about her. She's going to move into my apartment building this summer, so I'll still be able to keep an eye on her. That should keep the Dark Lord satisfied that I'm not slacking on my responsibilities._

_Time to go to breakfast. You have no idea how watery the scrambled eggs are. I think back to all those Hogwarts breakfasts I should have appreciated far more than I did. You can't even get a grilled tomato for breakfast._

_Enjoy one and think of my suffering._

_Draco. _

-------------------------  
Later that evening

Minerva refills my brandy snifter and refreshes her own. Bill chose the firewhisky. Albus is sticking with tea tonight and Remus has a headache. I suppose the courteous thing would be to offer him a headache potion.

He can send Dobby down to the cellar for it. Now that the snakes have taken up residence, Remus refuses to go down there. He has threatened to go to the Shrieking Shack during the next full moon instead of the empty storage room in the cellar.

I must get to work on whatever form of torment I will visit upon him, now that I know our resident werewolf is afraid of snakes, even little snakes.

"Hermione sent me a message through a set of paired journals," reports Bill. "She wants advice about how much to tell Schuler and the faculty at Avalon."

I must be reasonable. I am not jealous of Bill Weasley. The paired journals are an efficient way to communicate. If Bill and Hermione are to act as couriers and pass information between the Order and Daniel Schuler, a set of paired journals is a good idea.

I am confident she did not tell him that their kiss made her toes curl.

Or sent shivers down her spine.

She did not speculate about giving personal attention to his earlobes. The thought of what Hermione might have in mind for mine sends shivers down my spine.

"What do you think, Severus?" asks Remus.

I hide my startled response. I must pay attention to the discussion and stop thinking like a jealous male. There is nothing to be jealous about. Hermione is _mine_.

"My apologies," I reply. "I was lost in thought about Hermione's request for advice about what is safe to reveal about our weapon if we are to seek assistance."

Minerva is smiling at me in a rather coy manner. Surely she doesn't ….

"That is what we were discussing anyway," says Minerva. "We should give her guidelines to follow about what is safe to discuss and what she may disclose to Schuler."

"At this point," I state in a rather businesslike manner, "we should reveal nothing about our weapon. Only selected members of the Order know about it and it should stay that way. If we find ourselves in need of technical assistance for some aspect, we can make a decision about what to reveal at that time."

"I agree," says Albus, nodding sagely. "Information about the weapon is too important to risk. This is the first possibility we have found that appears to have the potential to work effectively against Riddle."

"How are things coming with your research?" asks Minerva.

"The Weasley twins obtained the cocaine over the weekend without incident," I report. "Arthur took care of Obliviating the drug dealers from whom it was purloined. As agreed, the twins contacted me immediately to take possession of it. Last night, I processed it into the crack form and it is currently in a warded cabinet at headquarters. Mundungus will _not_ have access to it without losing a hand."

"Dad's been in touch with Charlie," offers Bill. "He says that Charlie's obtained fire bladder extract from three of the miniature Swedish short snouts. He expects to have the extract from four more tomorrow. He'll bring however much he's got to the Burrow on Sunday."

"I have a small stock of the fire bladder extract on hand," I report. "There is enough for me to begin experimentation on incorporating it into the weapon. We know that it can be absorbed through the skin, but I would like to try turning it into an inhalable powder. The cocaine is at its most potent when in an inhaled form. If the fire bladder extract is still effective in suppressing magic when inhaled, it can be combined with the cocaine. The next challenge will be to develop a delivery system that will make it safe to transport and use against the Dark Lord."

"Severus and I are working on identifying a charm we can use," states Bill.

Minerva gives both of us a rather scathing look.

"Neither of you took a NEWT in Transfiguration," she says, shaking her head and her finger at Bill and I. "If you had done so, you would know that the magical transformation of a solid into a powder, gas, or smoke is best done through transfiguration. The substance can maintain its original elements while changing form."

"That is advanced transfiguration at a mastery level," interjects Albus.

"True," remarks Minerva. "Fortunately, there are two of us in this room who happen to have such a mastery. Assuming that Albus is busy with other responsibilities, I am willing to make time to assist you in your research."

"I must confess that Transfiguration was never my best subject," I admit. "It did not even occur to me."

Bill nods in agreement.

"Obviously, I don't have a mastery," says Remus, "but, I did achieve a NEWT in Transfiguration and will be happy to help.

"I intended to ask you," says Minerva with a smile. "Once I work out the transfiguration, I will teach you how to do it. You can do much of the actual work when it is time to produce a quantity of the weapon."

"What of animal testing?" asks Albus.

"Thanks to Harry," mutters Remus, "the cellar has a pen full of snakes which I _will not_ be going near.

I am not the only person in the room who cannot resist the temptation to smirk. Minerva has the most mischievous look on her face. Bill is grinning and Albus has his trademark twinkle. Never before have I considered allying myself with Gryffindors in the cause of pranksmanship, but this may be an occasion that calls for it.

That is something for later. Right now, there is business to attend to.

"I have a good stock of snakes to begin experimentation," I report. "There should be more than enough to determine a non-fatal dosage for a snake of a certain size. I already know how much crack cocaine or firebladder extract it would take to be fatal to a human. Healer Smith, Poppy and I will have to make an educated guess as to a non-fatal dosage for the Dark Lord."

"If Minerva works out the transfiguration that converts both into an inhalable form," adds Bill, "we will start testing on the snakes by the middle of next week. Harry and I will assist Severus with that since Remus is unwilling."

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is unable," pontificates Remus in an attempt to weasel out of any responsibility that will take him near the snakes.

"Boys, if you please," interrupts Albus before we can make the werewolf squirm. Albus turns to me. "Do you think three weeks will be enough time to know if this weapon is viable? Schuler did say something significant would take place this summer."

"Three weeks would take us to the end of April," I reply. "If we cannot turn these ingredients into a viable weapon by that time, it is unlikely we will be able to at all. If you could arrange for other staff to cover patrols, I will have additional time to work on it. As we are coming up on OWLs and NEWTs, I cannot reduce the amount of time I am available to the students.

"I believe I can recruit other staff to take those. The ghosts can certainly be counted on," says Albus.

"With our new responsibilities for this research," says Minerva, primly, "Bill and I cannot possibly take on the additional patrols."

Bill is nodding in agreement. Remus is hiding a laugh behind his hand.

"Rolanda, Filius, and Pomona are all Order members," sighs Albus. "I shall have to impose on them to free up your time. Professor Binns has not been asked to do patrols since the Grindelwald War. I shall discuss it with him tomorrow."

"In that case," I say, "if Bill and Minerva are free, we will meet here tomorrow evening to work on transfiguring the crack cocaine into a smoke and the fire bladder extract into an inhalable form. Once we accomplish that, I will work on testing the two substances to make certain they are still effective."

"It sounds as if we have worked out the plans as far as we can," announces Albus. "Bill, would you write to Hermione and tell her to keep silent about our weapon for the time being? Let her know that we believe Schuler's people will be effective at providing for her personal safety."

Albus rises and Dobby is summoned to collect the empty glasses, cups, and other detritus of the meeting. In short order, good evenings have been bid and everyone is on their way to their respective quarters.

Minerva and I arrive at Hogwarts together. The sky is overcast and without moonlight, it is very dark on the pathway to the castle. She takes my arm and we walk silently towards the entrance to the teacher's tower where her quarters are. We are nearly to the door and the light from the castle window illuminates the path. Minerva drops her handbag. We stop and I stoop to pick it up for her. I rise and hand it to her and she looks up at me with a warm look in her eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, my head drops to hers and I kiss her gently on the lips.

When I lift my head, she gazes at me with a look of surprise and confusion.

"I should not have done that," I say in a near whisper, embarrassed. "It was a moment's impulse. You simply look so lovely with the light from the window in your hair. Forgive me, if I have offended you."

Minerva hesitates for a moment.

"There is nothing to forgive, Severus," she says softly as she looks up at me, placing her hand on my arm. "It was unexpected, but pleasant."

"Then you are not offended?" I reply, hopefully.

"I am not offended," she answers thoughtfully, "but, this is not something I had considered. I will need to think about it." Minerva smiles at me, gentle and shy.

"Good night and pleasant dreams, Severus."

She turns and goes in the door of the teacher's tower. I stand there in the patch of light from the windows and gaze at the door for a long moment.

I open the door and enter. Minerva is waiting for me on the other side.

"Do you think it worked?" she asks mischievously.

"I believe so," I reply. "Shall we check the memory in the pensieve to make certain?"

"By all means," says Minerva, smiling as she takes my arm. "I think the dark made it easier. Even if I did not get the facial expressions exactly right, the shadows should have covered it."

We walk towards the hidden stairway that provides a shortcut to the floor where Minerva's quarters are located.

--------------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Hermione  
April 12th, 1999

_Dear Hermione,_

_Today, Bill reported on the bit of play acting the two of you did for Draco's benefit. Please do not be concerned that I interpret it as anything other than what it truly is._

_I must confess to a bit of play acting of my own. The Dark Lord has this bizarre idea about Professor McGonagall and myself…_

----------------------  
Author's notes

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Because of the demands at work, I haven't had time to answer most of them. Why is it that making a living _has_ to interfere with things I'd rather be doing? I figured you'd all rather have this chapter posted on time than personal replies.

Thank you to: French Wine, Arime Setta, Mariaag, Remus r us, Koliber, Lucyferina, troesnaja, Lyannie, Keket Amunet, Hebi R, Beth, Squiggles,Candi, Sarah and Lupin, Nottbook, FairieChell, FarmerLiz, Jocemum, Jade2099, Grammarchick101, Soulchaser, Duj, Broken2Nite, Ange-Tears-16, AndiScribbles, Excessivelyperky, SlytherinTwinCC, Ebbe04, Quiet-mg, Droxy, Latinachikita, F75, Evilmastermind666, Kirien, Erytha, Darque Hart, Rinny08, Sweety-Pie5445 (who gave the longest review in the history of reviews), The Lioness in Winter, t-wrecks, Maddie50, Lilyginny27, Secretstrangeangel, Me613, Spoox, MollysSister, MuggleMomof3, Mother of Tears, and AmiMetallium


	68. Chapter 68

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

As always, thank you to Julia for critiquing each and every chapter before the readers see it. The story is always better for her suggestions.

Thanks to Excessivelyperky for explaining that people might be found in the _throes_ of passion, rather than the _throws_ of passion (except in the case of really rough sex).

This is late because of technical difficulties at this website. This version is posted because MMADfan offered instructions on a very creative way of posting through Potter Place. Thank you!

-------------------------

Hermione

April 13th, 1999

--------------------------

Paired Journal Entry

Severus to Hermione

April 12th, 1999

_…that involves my seduction of Minerva. He believes that she has access to Albus' secrets that he will not share with me, including the location where Potter resides. The Dark Lord believes that if I can get Minerva drunk and seduce her, she will tell me everything she knows. _

_You know how absurd the whole notion is, but Riddle's thinking is anything but rational. _

_Minerva McGonagall and I are friends. I have come to realize that she fulfills the role of a favored aunt in my life. There is no possibility that we could ever do what Riddle has in mind. Since January, she and I have staged some very awkward scenes where she appears inebriated. We have done such wild things as hold hands and she has rested her head on my shoulder. Last night, we staged a scene where I kissed her. _

_All of these scenes give me memories I can provide for the Dark Lord's perusal so that I appear to be complying with his orders. It is our intent to stretch out this "seduction" so long that the Dark Lord gives up on any possibility of it accomplishing what he wants. _

_Realistically, I will be punished for this failure. Although I have long since learned not to rely on luck, I choose to hope that Riddle will be captured this summer. Minerva and I can easily stretch out this unsuccessful seduction scenario for months. The Dark Lord may be in custody before it reaches the point where it is obvious that Severus Snape is not going to be successful in seducing Minerva McGonagall. _

_We have been entirely discreet. Only Albus, Poppy, and Remus are aware of the Dark Lord's plan. I am disclosing this to you, because I want no misunderstandings between us. At some future time, these role plays may be revealed and might damage your trust in me, if you believed they were true. _

_It is late, but I wished to send you this missive so you could read it in the morning. Have no doubts about what exists between us. _

_As for finding information about the Dark Mark, it is too dangerous to make any inquiries at this time. There may be sympathizers within American Wizarding society who might pay attention if you seem to be accessing information about bonding marks. Since you are known to be allied with Dumbledore, that could potentially lead someone to ask questions that could lead to suspicions of a spy in the Death Eater ranks. _

_Your plan to use the computers that do not require a student identification number to access the search function for sensitive topics is wise. You see, I have been paying attention to what you have said about how computers work. I do look forward to having the opportunity to use one some day. _

_I have made progress on our project. The crack cocaine was prepared Sunday evening. Minerva has offered to work with our team on transfiguring the cocaine and fire bladder extracts into an inhalable form. Once we have that, I can begin tests on the snakes. _

_As for my earlobes, I do believe some experimentation is called for. I shall be most pleased to serve as test subject for this research, as long as I may return the favor. _

_How are you feeling? You have been active since your return to Avalon. Bill said you were tired after walking around downtown _ _Chicago_

_Drat. I have just been alerted to an altercation in the Slytherin Common Room. I look forward to your letter tomorrow. _

_Yours, _

_Severus _

----------------------

A seduction scenario featuring Severus and Minerva?

Oh, my….

Minerva sat with us that morning after I treated Severus for Cruciatus. She's really fond of him. She's in her seventies and Severus is forty. He thinks of her as an aunt.

How bloody awkward does that have to be?

I can't help but giggle when I should be feeling really sorry for both of them or jealous.

Do I feel jealous? I do a quick check of my feelings.

No. Not one iota of jealousy.

What if he actually had to do the deed?

I can't help but cringe at the thought. The age difference doesn't bother me, though it is unusual even in the wizarding world for the man to be that much younger than the woman involved.

If Minerva feels like family to him, this seduction scenario does bother me. It would have to be like the time Ron and I tried playing tonsil hockey. Above and beyond the fact that neither of us really knew what to do with our tongues, it felt like kissing my brother. It was a feeling that what we were doing was fundamentally wrong as well as being horridly awkward. How could Severus even feel aroused attempting to do _that_ with his honorary aunt?

I suppose lust potions might have to be involved.

The truth is, if he did actually have to do it, I'd be jealous. I think I'm feeling rather possessive. From the things we discussed and the way he writes in the journal, Severus Snape is _mine_.

I am absolutely certain I don't want to share, even with Minerva McGonagall. Especially not with Minerva, not if it had to go further than playing at a flirtation. I suspect Severus has enough psychological damage from things that have happened to him and things he has had to do as a spy. This might be the very thing that would throw him over the edge. Between us, we must be a truly emotionally screwed up pair. Sounds a little backwards, but maybe that's one of the reasons we seem to be good for each other.

Nodding to myself, I'm going to write Severus a quick note to let him know I understand and it is perfectly alright. Minerva's not intruding on my territory any more than Bill is intruding on his. Severus does not need to feel like I'm going to judge him negatively about something he has very few choices about.

Severus and I may have decided not to be intimate because of the risk of Voldemort finding out, but we still belong to each other.

I reach for an apple from the bowl I've started keeping on my book shelf. The vitamin tonic I'm supposed to take upsets my stomach if I don't eat something first. As I munch, I can't help but think about Severus' remark about earlobes. I'd certainly like it if he gave his close personal attention to my earlobes.

I think back to our kiss down in the cellar. Hmph. It took forever to get rid of Harry so we could be alone. We were lucky Remus got him to go upstairs. It was almost like…

No. He couldn't possibly know about Severus and me.

But, it was almost as if he took Harry by the ear and dragged him upstairs. Maybe he does suspect something.

Would that be a bad thing?

Not if he intentionally took Harry upstairs so Severus and I could finally have some time alone. An ally wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

That would mean Remus approves of our relationship. If Remus suspects something, I wonder if anyone else does?

I'd better write to Severus about that, too.

---------------------

Paired Journal Entry

Hermione to Severus

April 13th, 1999

_Dear Severus, _

_I've only a few minutes before I have to get ready to leave for breakfast. I'm actually hungry, sleeping just fine, no nightmares, and warming charms make me comfortable without any negative side effects. _

_Thank you for letting me know about Minerva. I feel badly that the two of you have to muck up a perfectly good friendship by having to pretend to engage in seduction. Having given it careful thought, I've decided I'm not at all jealous. It would be different if she really was a rival for your affections. You care about both of us, but in totally different ways. It's no more a real courtship between you and Minerva than it is for me and Bill, so there isn't anything to worry about. I hope and pray that whatever role-playing the two of you are doing keeps Voldemort satisfied with your efforts. I'd rather you do whatever you have to if it keeps him from punishing you in ways we know he enjoys. _

_I was thinking about the other evening when we finally got to be alone. Does it seem to you that Remus deliberately got Harry to go upstairs with him? Is it possible Remus suspects something and is okay with it? It might not be a bad thing if we could tell Remus and Bill. They might understand more than we've given them credit for. Do you think it would be safe to tell Minerva? _

_I've thought of another way to research means to block the Dark Mark. I'll start checking out books about magic in a variety of cultures in North and _ _South America__. It will look like I'm doing a general overview of multicultural magic. If I find anything along the way that looks promising, I'll narrow down my search. _

_If anyone can figure out how to transfigure our ingredients into a powder, smoke, or gas, it is Professor McGonagall. She's brilliant. _

_I'm off to breakfast and physics class. Have a good day (meaning no one blows up anyone or anything). _

_Love, _

_Hermione_

--------------------------

"Anyway," says Draco, waving his fork to make his point, "the last of the tenants will be out by April 20th. That especially _attractive_ building up the street is giving one month of free rent for anyone who moves in before May 1st. Between giving tenants their last month free if they move out of my building early and getting the first month free at the other building, it is a good deal and leaves the tenants with enough money to pay movers to do the work. I have to credit Cindy with being a big help. She's been spending a lot of time haunting the occupied apartments. That made the ghost-free building down the street a lot more attractive."

"Does that mean we can get access to our apartments even earlier?" asks Anita, bright- eyed with excitement.

"The top floor is empty and I authorized Sydney Abramowitz to make the bathrooms there his first priority. He had a cancellation of another job, so his crew is starting today. The painters have already started and I signed the contract for replacing the linoleum and carpeting last night. The replacement doors are already ordered," he says triumphantly.

"What about the warding?" I ask, nonchalantly.

"The wooden privacy fence will be installed in the next few weeks. Between the wood from the fence and the trees in the yard, the Muggle deflection wards and the familiar containment wards will be installed in the backyard. The protection wards will be raised around the building and the property as soon as the last Muggle tenant has left. We can each do our own warding to our own apartments."

"Will Muggles be able to visit us in our apartments?" asks Warren.

"Muggles that you choose to allow in will be able to get in and go directly to your apartment," explains Draco. "Each tenant will have access to a password to admit them. They won't be able to go beyond the entranceway without the tenant being at home to let them through."

"Good," says Warren. "That'll keep out the riff-raff while letting us admit the pizza delivery guy or Muggle friends."

"It sounds like this company you've hired to do the warding is pretty versatile," I add.

"My Dad recommended them," says Anita as she finishes her toast. "It's owned by some of my relatives and has a reputation for being the best wizarding security company in the Midwestern United States. Dad uses them for Digital Magic's security system, so they have to be the best."

Anita turns to Draco, who is staring with disgust at the piece of bacon he is holding in midair. It probably has something to do with the droplets of grease sliding off of it onto his plate.

"While I was home for Easter," she says, "Wilhelmina asked me to tell you that she has cousins who are interested in your service elf positions. They're a husband and wife pair who have been working at a hotel for years. They want to do something different, but like working together. The wife is a chef and the husband does a lot of different things around the hotel."

"That sounds great," says Draco, dropping the offensive piece of bacon back onto his plate next to the watery scrambled eggs. "The chef part sounds especially good. If Wilhelmina recommends them, I'll have to get an interview set up right away."

"I'll call Wilhelmina and let her know," says Anita. She turns towards me and winks. "You know what this means, don't you?"

I nod and grin.

"Shopping!" we both declare in unison.

Draco rolls his eyes and Warren absolutely lights up.

"We have to go to IKEA and a few other furniture stores," urges Warren. "We'll need kitchen stuff and everything. This is great." He holds out his hand and examines his carefully manicured nails. "I am available to offer interior decorating advice. You do know that eggshell white walls are utterly passé," he says to Draco.

"So I've heard," says Draco sarcastically. "The company doing the redecorating is making sure the magnolia paint they use on the walls is amenable to coloring charms. When the lease ends, the walls automatically revert to white so the next tenant can change them to suit themselves. The same thing applies to the linoleum and the carpet, so it can all be customized."

"Brilliant planning, oh mighty landlord," quips Warren.

"Believe me," says Draco, "All of the tenants are going to pay sufficient rent to cover all of this. I'm running a business, but I want it to be the premiere student housing for anyone attending Avalon College. This building will have prestige and students will be on a waiting list to get in. When Avalon starts the advanced training seminars, I'll rent out the apartments during the summer to wizards and witches coming to attend. The apartments will come furnished and with a meal package and housekeeping service. I'll be able to charge premium rates for that."

"A man after my own heart," sighs Anita dramatically as she reaches over and takes Draco's hand. They are gazing adoringly into each other's eyes.

It's actually rather sweet, if just a tad nauseating.

Just think, some day these two will make money hand-over-fist together and be fabulously wealthy. I'll be able to say I knew them when they were only rich because of their parents' money.

"Not to interrupt a special moment," I tease as I point to the very large clock on the cafeteria wall, "but, we've got class in ten minutes."

"Why don't we meet for lunch?" asks Draco. "Somewhere other than here?" He looks meaningfully at the half eaten remains of our breakfasts.

"How about the Bottomless Cup over on Wabash Avenue?" suggests Anita. "It's wizarding so we can talk freely and they make terrific sandwiches. They have a transportation room and I've got a portkey, so we could get there and back in time for afternoon classes."

"Good plan," says Warren. "Shall we meet at the dormitory at noon?"

In a flurry of activity, we all gather books and possessions and leave for our respective classes.

-----------------------

My Caesar salad with the grilled chicken is excellent and I love this raspberry flavored iced tea. I spear another piece of chicken and some of the romaine lettuce and munch quite happily.

Warren and Draco are big fans of panini sandwiches. Warren is having the grilled vegetables panini and Draco is trying the ham and gruyere. The waitress talked Anita into having the blue cheese and pear sandwich. Based on the look on her face, I don't think Anita cares for it much.

"The blue cheese and pear may be a bust, but I know for certain the cheesecake will make up for it," she says.

"If I have cheesecake on top of this huge sandwich," says Draco, "I'll be falling asleep in Charms this afternoon."

"Just think," says Warren, "a month from now we'll be in our own places. No more cafeteria food, ever."

"I don't know that it can happen that quickly," I caution. "Avalon's policy is that all First Year students have to live in the dorm or with family. We can't just move out before term is over."

"No," agrees Warren. "We'll have to be discreet. We can probably spend weekends away with no problem. The Resident Advisors will notice if we are gone overnight during the week."

"I'll talk to Mom about it," says Anita. "She might be able to use a little influence to get us some leeway."

"We'd probably have to live in the dorm part-time until the end of term," I comment. "Or maybe sleep in the dorm even if we're away the rest of the time."

"We'll have to see what we can get away with," says Draco with a smirk.

"I can't wait to shop for furniture," says Anita. "Maybe we can go this weekend and start looking."

"I'll have some time on Sunday afternoon," I reply. "There are some things I have stored back in England that I'd like to bring back next time I visit home."

Anita looks at me curiously. "The last time we talked about it, you said you had some things from your parents' house, but you weren't certain you'd ever use them."

I put down my fork, surprised.

"I know," I say, uncertainly. "I don't know why, but the idea of using my parents' kitchen set doesn't bother me. A few weeks ago, I wouldn't even have considered it."

"That's good, isn't it?" asks Draco. "It hasn't been easy for you dealing with the way they died. Maybe that part is getting better?"

Warren and Anita are looking at me with concern. I really haven't ever talked to either of them about Mum and Dad. Draco must have told them.

I take a deep calming breath before I start to explain.

"About a year-and-half ago, my parents were killed in a Death Eater raid. There were four other families of Muggleborns they got the same night."

Warren reaches over and takes my hand.

"Hermione, that's just awful. I'm so sorry," he says sympathetically. "I take it you were at your boarding school when it happened?"

"Yes," I answer with a nod. "Otherwise, they would have killed me too."

Anita looks like she's ready to cry. Draco scoots his chair closer to her and puts his arm around her shoulder.

"I haven't talked about it, because it was just too hard," I explain. "I miss them terribly, but it is getting better with time." I dredge up some of that Gryffindor courage we're supposed to be famous for and offer up a weak smile. "It's okay. A little bit at a time, I'm coming to terms with it. I guess it is real progress if I can actually think about using some of their things."

"You know that if there's anything we can do, you just have to ask," says Anita, rushing to say the words before she starts to cry. "I can't imagine how you do it. If it was my…."

She leaves the rest unsaid, blinking rapidly to fight back tears and fumbles in her purse for a tissue. Draco tightens his arm around her shoulder and looks at me.

Draco knows just how awful all of it is.

"It's okay," I murmur as Warren squeezes my hand again. "I take it one day at a time. It helps to be busy. It really helps having good friends."

I think for a moment while Anita collects herself.

"Something like this really makes you think about what you believe in," I explain as I try to look for the words to communicate something that is more feeling than anything else. "My parents are gone, but not really. I think they hear me when I talk to them. I think they look after me, even if I can't see them. I know they're gone, but they're not very far away. They're nearby when I need them."

Being the responsible timekeeper for the group, I'm the one who notices how late it is getting.

"Right now, I'm pretty sure they're encouraging us to finish lunch and get back to class. Their savings pays for my expensive education."

Warren laughs and squeezes my hand again. "That sounds exactly like the kind of thing my parents would say."

"They'd be absolutely right," says Draco. Anita has herself back together. He gives her shoulder one more squeeze and releases her. He leans towards me. "You're right about the good friends thing. That makes a difference in ways you'd never even think of. Changes things…."

"Yes, it does," I reply with a smile as I pick up my fork and dig into my salad.

----------------------

_Search_: List Native American Tribes

Hit _enter_ and wait.

Good heavens.

A'ane

Abenake

Abenake-Penobscot

Absaaloke

Achumawi

Achjachamem

I start counting the "a" column. From A'ane to Aztec, there are forty-five tribes. There's a lot more Native American cultures than I imagined. There are hundreds listed here. Maybe even a thousand.

Leaning back in the chair, I look around the library. At 3:00 in the afternoon, the library is busy. I'm at one of the open-use computers located in study kiosks scattered all through the building. This one is right off the medical library. There are Healer trainees and Mediwizardry students crowding the stacks. The end of term is approaching and deadlines for term papers are approaching.

I'm glad mine most of mine were finished before Easter holiday. The study habits I developed at Hogwarts have served me well. As soon as term papers are assigned, I begin working on them. As end of term approaches, I can spend my time studying for examinations instead of cramming all of the work into the last month.

Word processing is wonderful. Later on, if I find something else I want to include in my term paper, I can add it without having to recopy the whole thing.

Looking back down at the list on the computer screen, I can see this approach isn't going to work. My plan of investigating bonding marks in Native American cultures will require too much time unless I do a search about that specific topic. That could tip off anyone who is monitoring my use of the computers.

I'll have to find another way, even though Severus doesn't want me to investigate the Dark Mark.

Why?

He writes that it could lead to the question of whether or not there is a spy in the Death Eater ranks.

That's just not logical. They would be more likely to assume I'm looking for a way to attack Death Eaters through the Dark Mark. If all the Death Eaters are connected to Voldemort through the Mark, theoretically there might be a way to attack all of them at once. There has to be another reason Severus doesn't want me to look into this. There is something he doesn't want me to know.

There were good reasons why Harry, Ron, and I shouldn't have looked for the Philosopher's Stone. I probably shouldn't have investigated the possibility of a basilisk either. Or a host of other things I've explored in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. Common sense didn't exactly stop me then. It isn't going to stop me now.

I need another approach.

I smile to myself as I type in the words.

_Search_: Marriage bonds

Hit _enter_ and wait.

I can research this without any problem. It's known all over the dormitory that Hermione Granger has a new boyfriend. A good looking Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from the boarding school she used to attend in England. Besotted Hermione Granger might just be thinking about marriage. Since her boyfriend is prettier than she is, she might want a bonded marriage to ensure fidelity.

I look at the list on the computer and feel considerably more hopeful. Magical bonding has similarities, no matter what kind of bond it is. Maybe I can get some idea of what it is Severus doesn't want me to find out while looking for ways to break his bond with Voldemort.

Starting at the top of the list, I work my way down.

-------------------

Dinner tonight is Thai, picked up by Warren from Baisi Thai Restaurant. I'm having chicken with ginger and mushrooms. Warren, who is flirting with vegetarianism is having stir fried aubergine. Anita is trying the shrimp with garlic, pepper, and cilantro on noodles. Draco is having a chicken stir fry with basil.

We're sitting in the sixth floor lounge and we have attracted some of the familiars on the floor. Crookshanks and Thekla are sitting on either side of me on the sofa, staring at my plate. They aren't even blinking. Butterscotch has convinced Anita to share her shrimps. None of the familiars seem interested in Warren's dinner. A student from California has a ferret for a familiar. He is currently sitting on Draco's shoulder and being fed tiny bits of chicken from Draco's plate.

Anything I say right now is likely to get me into trouble.

"I really like this little guy," says Draco. "I can see myself with one of these."

I can see you _as_ one of these. Instead, I smile and nod.

"He seems to get along fine with the cats," observes Anita.

"Maybe after I move into the apartment building…." murmurs Draco.

"Soooooo, Hermione," says Warren, dislodging Thekla as he sits on the sofa next to me, "Tell papa all about your new boyfriend."

All eyes, except the familiars, turn to me. The familiars are still watching the food.

Now is the time to give the explanation Bill and I have worked out.

"He's the older brother of one of my best friends. That's how I got to know him."

"He was your teacher, too," says Anita. "That seems a little, well, kinky."

Honestly. Is that what people are going to think if Severus and I ever get to go public with our relationship?

I laugh, just a bit derisively.

"Absolutely nothing happened while I was at Hogwarts," I clarify emphatically. "I didn't see him that way, then. It wasn't until after I was living with the Weasleys that I got to know Bill as a person. Right about the time I broke up with Adam, I realized part of the reason was because I was so attracted to Bill."

Anita and Draco exchange glances.

"Is that who you were talking about when you had too much to drink?"

I allow myself to look alarmed. I hope my limited acting skills can carry it off.

"Did I actually talk about him?" I ask.

"You didn't mention him by name," says Draco. "You made it pretty clear that there was someone back home you were _very_ attracted to."

"What's not to be attracted to?" offers Warren. "The man is drop-dead gorgeous."

"He is," I reply, "but that's not what really attracted me to him."

"What, then?"

"He's intelligent and interesting," I reply. "We can talk for hours about practically anything. He's not put off by my being smart. He's thoughtful, considerate, and has a great sense of humor."

"So, how did the two of you get together?" asks Draco.

"I came down with the sneazles over the Easter Holiday," I explain,"I went home on Friday and by Saturday morning, I was covered with green spots and sneezing my brains out. Mrs. Weasley firecalled St. Mungo's and they sent over a potion for me. Saturday night, I kept getting worse and was running a very high fever. Bill had come home for the holiday and saw how sick I was. He contacted Madam Pomfrey, the Mediwitch at Hogwarts, who suggested putting me in a tub with icy cold water to bring down the fever.

"There I was, pajamas and all, in a bathtub with chunks of ice floating in it when I came to. Bill was there with his mother, helping to keep me from drowning in it. Everything else developed from there. He was quarantined at the house until he was checked by Madam Pomfrey to make certain he wasn't carrying any sneazle germs. Even after she cleared him to leave, he stayed to keep me company."

I smile softly at the image I've created in my head. It is very romantic, even if it isn't true.

"He kissed me on Thursday," I sigh.

"He kissed you on Sunday in front of half of the residents of St. Germaine Hall," says Warren in a hushed whisper, like he's revealing a bit of scandalous gossip.

"There is that, too," I say with a contented smile.

"Will we be seeing him on a regular basis?" asks Draco.

I know that Draco is asking so he can report back to Voldemort.

"I think so," I reply, "I told Bill about moving into your apartment building and he offered to come and help. He wants to see Chicago, too. I might be a bit more inclined to visit home more often, too."

"That's great!" says Draco, excitedly. "We never got a chance for a rematch of our duel." He looks at Anita. "Remember when I told you about blowing out my knee during a duel with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Anita puts her hand on his arm.

"If he's coming to see Hermione," she says, gently, "he might not want to take time out to go running through the woods so you two can shoot hexes at each other."

Draco looks absolutely crestfallen.

"Surely he'll come up for air _sometime_ while he's here," whines Draco.

Anita promptly whacks Draco on the arm. "Draco!" she says with a combination of surprise and disgust.

Warren and I burst into laughter.

"I didn't mean it exactly the way it sounded," says Draco, shamefaced.

I giggle and snort a couple of times, which sends everyone into peals of laughter.

After I calm down, I get up and start collecting the empty plates and food cartons to throw in the rubbish.

They honestly think that plain, sensible, maidenly Hermione would spend her weekends living out erotic fantasies with Bill Weasley? Of all the people I know, Bill probably comes closest to being a sex god, not that I have any personal testimony to offer. Fleur Delacour could probably tell quite another story.

Now, if they were talking about Severus it might be possible. At least I've built up a few fantasies in that department.

"A couple of snogging sessions does not mean that we will be spending our weekends in the throes of passion," I reply, rather snarkily. "We've really just started seeing each other."

Warren joins me in picking up the remainders of our little feast. He puts the last bit of his aubergine in front of Crookshanks, who promptly sticks up his squashy little nose at it and strides away. Thekla and Butterscotch fall into step behind him, their long tails waving behind them as they express their opinion of the aubergine in a highly visual way.

"That cat of yours is way too smart for his own good," remarks Warren, hands on his hips and gazing at the three felines as they make their dramatic exit.

"He always has been," I remark, "but, it's been helpful at times."

Draco sidles up next to me and puts his arm around my shoulder.

"Not to change the subject or anything," he says coaxingly. I turn my head and look into those gorgeous gray eyes of his. "Do you think you could just mention the possibility of a duel to Professor Weasley at some point? When you're not busy going to museums, restaurants, and all those cultural events you two deep thinkers are bound to enjoy."

"I could," I reply thoughtfully. "But, I think it might be more effective to ask him after a really good snog."

A laugh is always a good way to end dinner.

-------------------------------

With almond flavoring, the vitamin tonic really isn't that bad. When Ginny had to take it, it wasn't flavored and she said it made her gag.

A cup of tea would be the perfect thing to follow it up. I set the bottle of tonic on my desk and put a tea bag in my bottomless Starbucks mug. Severus may be offended by the existence of tea bags, but in the dormitory it is a lot less messy than loose leaves.

I go back to reading the on-line article

------------------------

_Ethical Considerations in Magical Bonding _

_An Overview _

_The North American Journal of Magical History _

_July, 1995 _

_Julia Franks, C.M. _

_Chairperson of the American Council for Ethics in Wizardry _

_History of Magic Instructor _

_Saint_ _Bridgets_ _Academy__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Oak Park_ _Illinois_

_United States of America_

_Introduction _

_The concept of magical bonding is a highly controversial one in modern times. A common practice until the last one hundred years, bonding has been used to connect children to their parents for safety, ensure fidelity in marriage, and bind the unwilling into relationships that could easily be defined as slavery. Like any other form of magic, it is the intent of the user and the method in which it is applied that determines whether the bond should be classified as Light or Dark magic. _

_In recent centuries, many forms of magical bonding have fallen into disuse. The reasons have varied. Many charms and potions have been classified as Dark magic because of the degree of control they give to one person over another. The free will and expression of fundamental human rights of the bond recipient can be violated by the dominant partner in the bond. Examples of abuse of such bonds are documented extensively in historical literature. There is little doubt that such bonds are rightfully classified as Dark magic. _

_Other charms and potions have been abandoned because of continuing controversy about the use of blood and bodily fluids in potions or charm activation. In more extreme cases, the potion or charm may require an animal or human sacrifice to empower the magic of the bond. _

_The question of the morality of the use of any single potion or charm must truly be considered on its own merits. _

_Foveo Liberi, the most commonly used modern child-to-parent bonding potion, allows a parent to sense when a child is frightened or in danger and to intuit his or her approximate location. There is little doubt that any parent who cherishes their children would like the capacity to offer this kind of protection. Additionally, when the child comes of age, the bond is automatically neutralized allowing the young adult to gain independence from their parents. This potion is generally viewed as Light magic because it offers age-appropriate levels of protection to a child and ends when the child reaches his or her majority. _

_Yet, Foveo Liberi has become controversial because it requires the parents to consume a potion that includes two drops of the newborn infant's blood. _

_Potions and charms requiring the use of human ingredients are typically classified as Dark magic. Considerations in these decisions are based on the nature of the ingredient, the quantity, and the damage to the donor. Any form of magic that requires amputation of a limb, extraction of an organ, or anything other than small amounts of blood or skin are appropriately designated as Dark Magic. Any human ingredient that is taken from an unwilling or unknowing donor is considered Dark. Even small amounts of human ingredients that cause no harm to the donor must be examined to determine if the magic is worth the cost. _

---------------------------

I didn't think of it that way when we used hairs from Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode's cat in the Polyjuice Potion. Good heavens, I was dabbling in Dark Arts back when I was in Second Year and didn't realize it.

The whole issue is complicated. We wanted to Polyjuice ourselves into Slytherins so we could find out if Draco was the Heir of Slytherin or if he knew who that really was. Our motivation was to solve the question of where the Chamber of Secrets was located and what was petrifying the students.

Our reason for our actions was on the side of Light, but we used a tool that is considered Dark. The lost hairs didn't hurt Crabbe, Goyle, or the cat. None of them gave consent for those hairs to be used, even if I discount the cat's ability to give permission.

I am lost in thought when I hear the knock on the door. Pushing back the chair, I rise and answer.

Draco is leaning against the door jamb, wearing his dressing gown and looking like he is getting ready to turn in for the night.

"Can I borrow your copy of _De Arroyo's Compendium of Arithmantic Tables_?" asks Draco as he strolls in the door. "I left mine at home and need it for an assignment that's due tomorrow."

"No problem," I reply as I walk over to the bookshelves to find the volume. "You do know that if you'd started your homework earlier, you wouldn't be rushing to complete this at the last minute."

"Did you nag Potter and Weasley about their study habits, too?" he retorts rather cheekily.

"Of course I did," I reply. "How do you think they ever finished their education with any NEWTS at all?" Compendium in hand, I turn and see Draco looking at my desk.

Merlin help me, I left the vitamin tonic on my desk. The label is facing Draco and he's looking right at it. The label has Severus' handwriting on it.

Draco looks up at me and smiles. I hold out the book and he takes it.

"Thanks for the loan," he says. "I'll probably need it for a couple of days, if that's okay? I'll contact my mother and ask her to send me my copy."

"Hang onto it as long as you need," I reply. "I don't have anything I'm working on where I expect to need it for a while."

"Great," says Draco as he walks to the door. He turns towards me as he reaches it. "I'll see you at breakfast, then." Draco steps out of the room and closes the door behind him.

I sink into the chair and cover my face with my hands. I have seriously screwed up.

How do I explain to Severus that I may just have blown his cover?

---------------------

Author's Notes

Foveo Liberi: Cherished Child

Thank you to all my reviewers: DCI Panda, KarlaMarie, Lilyginny27, Jade2099, Katyes, Remus r us, Darque Hart, Lilsnape, MollysSister, Secretstrangeangle, Lyndie578, Rinny08, Excessivelyperky, Nottbook, Jocemum, Lipasnape, Koliber, Erytha, Maddie50, T wrecks, AmiMizuno1, Madamsnape78, Broken2nite, Droxy, Mariaag, Trulyamused, Ebbe04, SlvrNight, Mother of Tears, Green-eyed-angel, Notwritten, Nirtak.Enaile, Not so Chicken Little, Duj, Hebi R., SlytherinTwinCC, Dragonmaster Kurai, Andi-Scribbles, Quiet-mg, Squiggles.Candi, Kirien, Goddess of Grammar, LovesRickman, Latinachikita, RoxieJinx, Parsimonious, SweetiePie5445, EvilMastermind666,MMadfan, Alamo Girl, Nutters4Potter, Dobbinff, Soul chaser, Annie, Mugglemomof3, Arime Setta, Trinama, Maxine Durchova, Yasira, Amsev, Sarah and Lupin, Crystalvoicedcamelotlady, and Dolphindreamer


	69. Chapter 69

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this chapter, in spite of already having too much to do.

And a round of applause to Katyes for translating 40 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German!

--------------------------  
April 14th, 1999  
Severus

--------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
Draco to Severus  
April 13th, 1999

Severus,

I believe I saw something today that I shouldn't have involving a bottle of vitamin tonic. Unless you tell me otherwise, the memory is going into my pensieve.

Draco

--------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
Hermione to Severus  
April 13th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I made a terrible mistake tonight. I took the vitamin tonic straight after dinner and left it sitting on my desk. Draco came to my room to borrow a book and I'm absolutely certain he saw it. He didn't say anything and acted normally. I tried to act normally, too.

He knows your handwriting. He will have to conclude that you made it and somehow it has got to me. One of the possible conclusions is that you are making potions for the Order.

You're a double agent. When Draco reports this to his father and Mr. Malfoy reports it to Voldemort, will you be in trouble?

Please write back straight away. I'm worried sick I may have created problems for you.

Love,  
Hermione

----------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
April 14th, 1999  
Severus to Draco

Draco,

Thank you for informing me about the incident. Say nothing to the other party and behave normally. Do not put the memory in the pensieve at this time. If you have not already done so, do not inform your father.

Your father and I have discovered that these journals can be used to hold a written conversation if the two owners use them simultaneously. Plan to use your journal at 6:30 pm your time tonight and we will discuss this. If you cannot be there at that time, leave me a message as soon as you see this.

Severus

---------------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
April 14th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

It is possible to do damage control for the incident. It is wise that you let me know at once. Say nothing to Draco about this and behave normally.

We need to converse. Use your journal at 7 pm your time tonight and we will discuss the matter. If you cannot be there at that time, leave me a message as soon as you see this.

Yours,  
Severus

---------------------------------

Just what I need; a crisis before breakfast.

I was late getting to bed last night because of working on the transfiguration of the cocaine into a smoked form. Thanks to Minerva, we have that part figured out. By the end of the evening, Remus was able to follow the complex four-step transfiguration process Minerva developed, even if he could not perform it himself. She will teach it to him over the next few days so that he can do the work.

Tonight, we will work on the transfiguring the firebladder extract into an inhalable form. Healer Smith will join us so she can advise us on the process. Ellen has done some surreptitious research on the properties of firebladder extracts in general. We need to determine which inhalable form will best retain the magic suppressant qualities of the extract. I have expressed the belief that turning it into a smoke will not gain the effect we want or dragon keepers would have experienced the magic suppression effect while tending to the miniature Swedish short snout dragons. The smoke residue when the beasts belch fire is in the air the dragon keepers breathe.

I believe a mist form will be our most logical choice for suppressing magic. Fine droplets will be inhaled into the lungs and absorbed through the skin, yet retain the properties of the extract that we need.

I suppose we will need to test the magic suppressant properties of the mist on a human subject to ascertain if it works.

Perhaps Mr. Weasley will be at headquarters this evening. I cannot help but smile at the thought of making Ronald Weasley the laboratory rat for our experiment. His loss of magic would be temporary, but amusing.

Sadly, I suppose Bill and Remus will not allow me to torment him much at all.

The process of transfiguring the thick black serum into fine droplets of liquid that can be carried in the air will not be easy. Then we will need to determine if the smoke of crack cocaine and the fine mist of the firebladder extract can be contained in the same vessel to deliver the weapon.

There is too much work to do and not enough time to do it in. I must be back at Hogwarts at midnight in order to communicate with Draco and Hermione through our paired journals.

Which brings me back to that particular problem.

Hermione does not realize that she has not exposed me to the Dark Lord as a double agent. Draco and I have not discussed my role in plain terms. In all of our conversations, I have portrayed myself as balancing carefully on the edge. I function as Voldemort's man within Hogwarts, but give Dumbledore what he needs to protect myself. Draco believes that whichever side is going to win will be the way I shall turn. He believes his father's lessening of support for the Dark Lord is also based in the desire to survive if Voldemort loses the war.

That belief is certainly in keeping with the concept of self-preservation and opportunism espoused in many of Slytherin's values.

There is also a certain truth to it, given my own decision to appear to fully support Voldemort if he wins and Hermione is not safely in the United States. Both Lucius and I will protect our own above all others. This reminds me that I must work on backup plans in case everything goes pear shaped.

Draco has his own misgivings about the Dark Lord. His time in the United States has shown him what it is like to live in a wizarding world without a war. He is enjoying the freedom and safety of not having to consider how his every action will be viewed by the Dark Lord.

Above and beyond that, he has developed an appreciation for Hermione's friendship. Draco has no desire to harm her and would prefer that she be left alone. He also views her as one key to his own safety if the Order wins. She will vouch for him. He will not reveal that he saw my handwriting on the bottle of vitamin tonic to the Dark Lord, even if he must pensieve the memory.

I do not want Hermione to know that I correspond with Draco. Neither of them must truly know that they are working on the same side. Hermione is not a good enough actress to play it carefully if she knows the truth. It will simply make her too happy.

She has a difficult time hiding it or curbing her impulsivity when she is happy. I have watched her struggle to hide her feelings when she and I are around other people. The night the committee met at the Burrow, she had a difficult time masking her features when she first saw me. She had to break eye contact or her facial expression would have given too much away.

Draco is a good enough actor to pull it off, but I cannot rely on his Occlumency to hide too much knowledge of the truth from a deep probe by the Dark Lord.

I must come up with an explanation that will be satisfactory to both of them. They must act as if nothing has happened. At least I have until tonight to think about it.

-------------------------

"You are playing with your food, Severus," remarks Minerva, interrupting my thought process.

I look down at my plate. It does appear that I have rearranged the contents without actually eating much of anything. The crumbled bits of bread from the roll tell the tale.

My mind has been elsewhere. Hermione believes Remus suspects something about our relationship and deliberately took Potter upstairs so we could have time alone. I have been wracking my brain, trying to identify signs from him that would indicate he knows and approves.

She may be right. When we tested Hermione's tolerance for warming charms, Remus followed us upstairs. He stood beside me in manner that might indicate supportiveness. He put his hand on my shoulder and offered a "Well done" when we found the treatment was successful.

There are other times when Remus left Hermione and me alone at headquarters. These coincided with times when Potter and Weasley were away, too.

He did not argue when I offered to deal with Hermione's solo visits to the cemetery. Why would anyone entrust cold and sarcastic Severus Snape with the feelings of a sensitive young woman? Unless he realized that I would never knowingly mistreat her?

When Albus manipulated Hermione and Bill into pretending to be a couple as a cover for their courier trips, Bill asked Remus and me to meet him to offer advice on how to deal with Albus' matchmaking. Could Remus have encouraged Bill to seek me out because he wanted me to know that Bill is not interested in Hermione as anything other than a sister?

It was an enormous relief when I learned that I did not have Bill Weasley as a romantic rival.

I would not previously have considered it possible that I could have the werewolf offering some form of silent approval of our relationship. Perhaps even encouraging it in subtle ways?

Are there any others?

I lift my head and meet Minerva's eyes. She is looking at me intently as she sets her fork down on her plate.

"Is something troubling you?" she asks quietly.

Would Minerva approve? Hermione is a great favorite of hers, but she cares a great deal for me, too. She has said she wished she had stolen me as an infant so she could have raised me as her son. She knows me so very well.

I open my mouth to ask and I cannot get the words out.

She pats my arm and whispers so no one else can hear. "Shall we go for a walk? I would very much enjoy your company. We have a bit of time before we are due to meet with the other team members."

I nod in return. We rise and abandon our half-eaten meals, leaving the Great Hall.

I offer Minerva my arm and she takes it as we stroll casually in the direction of her quarters. Before long, I am seated on her sofa in front of the fireplace. Minerva sits down beside me and reaches for my hand. She holds my right hand between both of hers and looks at me searchingly.

"You do know that there is nothing you cannot say to me or confide to me," she says, a worried look in her eyes. "Your place in my affections is inviolable and nothing you say will ever change that."

My head is bowed and I do not wish to meet her eyes. Minerva smiles at me.

"Hiding behind your hair won't work, dear boy," she says to coax me. "I know all of your avoidance techniques."

I cannot help but smile. Minerva knows me so well. I search for the words I need and raise my head and meet her eyes. There is such a look of compassion and concern on her face.

"Minerva," I hesitantly begin. "If there was…. a woman of your acquaintance…." I search for a way to ask. "If she were someone you knew and cared about…." I am stumbling over my words. I do not want this to sound like I am pleading. "If I held her in particular esteem…. Would you …. approve?"

Minerva looks relieved and she starts patting my hand.

"Dear, dear Severus, of course I would approve," she says emphatically. "Whoever she is, she is very fortunate. You have much to offer to a discerning woman."

I release a breath I did not realize I was holding.

"I am deeply relieved to hear you say that is what you were concerned about, dear boy, I was terribly worried you were going to tell me you were traumatized about our kiss the other evening," she says, giving my hand one more pat before releasing it. "Would you care for something to drink before you tell me all about her?"

"Minerva," I sigh, "You have no idea…."

"Yes, I do," she says. "You have obviously been stewing about this and there is no need." Minerva rises and fetches a bottle of brandy and two snifters from her liquor cabinet. The cork floats to the side table and Minerva pours two drinks. She hands me one and taps her snifter to mine.

"A toast to the lady who has found her way into your heart," she says with the most wonderful sincerity. I feel the tension leach out of my shoulders and offer what must be a most relieved smile. We both sip our drinks for the toast. Minerva sets her brandy on table and leans back against the sofa. She turns to me.

"Now, tell me all about her."

I say it before I lose my nerve.

"What can I tell you about Hermione that you do not already know?"

Minerva is smiling as she crosses the sofa and very nearly knocks the brandy out of my hand as she wraps her arms around me in hug and gives me a resounding kiss on the cheek.

"I am delighted, Severus," she declares. "I must confess that I had hoped the two of you might find each other of interest. Of all the young ladies I know, I cannot think of any who would suit you better."

I pull Minerva closer and embrace her warmly. After a long moment, Minerva pulls back, holding me at arms length. She looks at me searchingly.

"Hermione returns your regard, does she not?" asks Minerva.

"She does," I confess.

"Then I am entirely pleased," responds Minerva, nodding her satisfaction. "I should like nothing better than to see the two of you happy, especially since neither of you has had an easy time of it."

I am content. Minerva accepts my relationship with Hermione. For once, I am not expected to choose between the few people I care about.

"Now," she continues, settling back with her brandy, "make an old woman happy and tell me what brought the two of you together."

"You are hardly old, Minerva," I chide her. Do I want to discuss this? With anyone? If I cannot talk to Minerva, I cannot talk to anyone. There are things I can say that would be appropriate, that would not intrude on my privacy.

"More than anything else, it is what we have in common," I reply tentatively. "Potions, obviously, and other academic interests. The war, certainly. However, I think it is the violent loss of both of our parents that brought us together at first. Although there was no attraction between us at the time, it began when I encountered Hermione in the middle of the night atop the Astronomy Tower about a month after her parents were killed…."

It seems I can talk about it with Minerva.

-----------------------------

Minerva's wand swishes through the air as she forms the sigils and gives the command to suspend the liquefied firebladder extract into the air within the jar.

The evening has been spent converting the firebladder extract from a thick, tar-like serum into a mist of fine droplets. I have never admired Minerva's skills as a Transfiguration Mistress more than I do now.

The magic required to turn the firebladder extract into the fine airborne mist contained in the glass jar in my hand required eleven steps worth of charms and wand movements. There is a logic to Transfiguration that escapes me at times. Before it could be turned into a liquid capable of being converted into a mist, Minerva had to take five steps to make the firebladder extract a solid. Another three steps made it a liquid once again. Two more steps turned it into a liquid that could be turned into a mist. The final step suspended it in the air within the jar.

It took Minerva twenty minutes to sketch out the necessary steps and three hours of trial and error to get to this point. A Dictaquill has been spelled to respond to her dictation and is keeping notes.

Bill and I have discussed it. Neither of us could have done it if we had been given six months of working together to figure it out. We would have discussed it with Remus, but he has been watching from his seat on the stairs. He says he is staying out of range of the snakes and has been busy taking notes on the transfiguration.

Ellen is testing the airborne substance in the jar. It is up to her to determine if the mist is fine enough to pass through the bronchiole airways into the alveoli where it would be absorbed into the blood stream. Once again, sigils appear over the jar.

"We don't have it quite yet," she says, shaking her head. "At this level, the person would feel the droplets and start coughing. Can you decrease the size of the droplets by one half?"

Minerva purses her lips in concentration.

"If I decrease the size of the droplets directly from the current liquid form, I doubt they would retain the base properties we want from the original serum," she speculates, tapping her wand against her hand.

"What if you try splitting the droplets in half?" suggests Bill.

The two of them discuss several different charms she could try. They agree on two that they wish to pursue further. Minerva places the jar back down on the lab table. She applies the first charm. A soft violet glow envelopes the jar. When it fades, I step forward and do the analysis charm. More sigils and chemistry signs appear in the air.

Damn.

"No," I announce, shaking my head. "The properties of the mist have changed so they are not identical to the original fire bladder extract."

Minerva shakes her head in frustration and is back to tapping her wand against her palm as she concentrates. She stops tapping.

"Let me try something different," she says. "Let me have one of the jars from when we split the firebladder extract into four parts before we tried converting it from the solid into the liquid."

Minerva begins listing new steps for the Dictaquill to record on the parchment.

"I am going to adjust the density at the second step of the liquid conversion," she explains.

An hour later, Minerva has revised the last one third of the process. Ellen has tested the mist and pronounced it suitable to be inhaled. It is now my turn to test it. I cast the analysis spell and read the symbols above the jar.

"Excellent," I declare. "The properties of the original firebladder extract are identical to this transfigured form."

There is laughter and spontaneous applause as Minerva takes a gracious bow and heaves a satisfied sigh of relief.

"We'll need to test it to make sure it suppresses magic in this form," calls Remus from the stairs.

"Agreed," I reply. "There is every reason to believe it should work, given Hermione's experience with absorbing it through her skin."

"The garter snakes aren't going to tell us that and we're weeks away from acquiring a runespoor," observes Bill.

"We do not need the runespoor until we are ready to test the combination of the firebladder mist and crack cocaine smoke," I reply. "We already know that firebladder extract is not what caused Hermione's blood pressure to drop dangerously low. It was the acromantula venom that did that. Unless Ellen or Poppy disagrees, we should make our test on a wizard."

"How long will the wizard be without magic?" asks Bill.

"I estimate it was about two and one half hours from the time the topical Crucio potion exploded onto her skin until she was able to cast _Lumos_," I reply. "However, we speeded up the process by magically removing the firebladder extract from her skin."

"We need to know how long a dose will last," muses Minerva. "If we are to imprison the Dark Lord, we must know how long the magic is suppressed when the dose wears off naturally."

"We will need a volunteer who can afford to be without magic for, say, twenty-four hours?" offers Ellen.

"Which is none of us," calls Remus from the stairs.

"Correct," adds Minerva. "Should the volunteer be about the same approximate height and weight as the Dark Lord?"

"Who in the Order is about the same height and weight?" I cross my arms and tap my foot in contemplation. I suppose Ronald Weasley is too tall. Rather disappointing, that. Potter is much too small. Shacklebolt is much too broad and muscular. Remus is close, but as a werewolf, he cannot be used since his biochemistry may be too dissimilar to the Dark Lord's.

I look up at Bill. He is too tall. However, Arthur Weasley would be very close to the same size as Riddle. The twins are too tall and slight. Charlie Weasley would work, too. So would Mundungus Fletcher, but his overindulgence in alcohol has probably affected his liver.

"I estimate that Arthur Weasley or Charlie Weasley would be most comparable in size to the Dark Lord."

"Dad's closer in age to the Dark Lord," comments Bill. "Are you sure there's no risk?"

"I've reviewed all of Poppy and Severus' notes about Hermione's physical reactions to the potions accident," replies Ellen. "There is no risk from the firebladder extract that I am aware of. While it suppressed her magic, the firebladder extract did not cause the drop in blood pressure. The acromantula venom did that."

"We could ask Dad to consider it," says Bill pensively. "He could call in sick for a day and Mum would be here to do any magic for him that he needed."

"More likely," I reply, "we would all be here along with Ellen or Poppy in order to observe the effects of the firebladder extract. If there were any problems, we would be ready to respond immediately."

"If it is alright with all of you," says Bill, looking around the lab, "I'll speak to Dad and Mum about it. I'd bet Dad would be game. He'd view it as having the Muggle experience. If Mum doesn't agree, Dad won't be able to do it. She'd make him miserable."

There is nothing I can say to that. Bill is quite right about Molly.

"Perhaps you should wait until Ellen or Poppy can go with you," suggests Minerva. "In case they have any questions?"

"That's a good idea," replies Bill, thoughtfully. "Would you be available this weekend?" he asks Ellen. "My brother Charlie will be here for a weekend visit as a cover for delivering the fire bladder extract. Dad will have made certain he's not scheduled to work. I was already planning to see them, so it will fit in well with that."

"I am scheduled to be at St. Mungo's on Saturday and Sunday from 4 pm until midnight," replies Ellen. "Those are always big nights for curse reversal. Early afternoon would be possible for me."

"I'll owl Mum and Dad and get back to you on it," says Bill.

"In that case," says Remus, "we should be finished for this evening, other than one of you putting the worms in the snake pen for their dinner."

"You know you could levitate the worms into the pen and not get anywhere near them," teases Bill.

"That would require looking at them to make sure the worms landed inside the pen," responds Remus, shaking his head, "and that just isn't going to happen."

"Good grief," snorts Minerva, who strides over to the lidded bucket of worms Potter had prepared earlier for the snakes. With a bit of magic, she pulls off the lid, revealing a squirming mass. Levitating the bucket over the pen, she dumps the lot inside. Floating the bucket aside, she gives a self satisfied nod.

"Never let it be said that the Head of Gryffindor failed to set the proper example when one of her cubs was being a sissy," announces Minerva.

Remus grins sheepishly as Minerva manages to look down her nose while looking up at the werewolf who is gazing down at her from the stairs.

Nicely done, my dear.

-----------------------  
Paired Journal Entry – Simultaneous Communication  
Draco to Severus

_I followed your instructions and behaved in a perfectly normal manner today. Even though Hermione had to know I saw the potion bottle, she behaved as if nothing unusual had happened._

In that case, I am not overly concerned about this incident. There is nothing revealed by this that the Dark Lord does not already know. He is aware that some of the stock potions I brew for Hogwarts have been diverted by Madam Pomfrey for use in cases outside of Hogwarts. She occasionally treats friends and their families, using whatever potions she may have on hand. Those are invariably potions I have brewed.

_Hermione said that Professor Weasley contacted Madam Pomfrey and asked for advice on how to treat her fever. He said that Madam Pomfrey recommended putting Hermione in ice cold water. _

In that case, it is likely she took a few potions from the stores at Hogwarts and gave them to Professor Weasley to give Miss Granger. It is a fairly harmless practice, given the quantity I brew. However, I have kept track of such incidents over the years. If an occasion should arise that I wish her to do something she might be reluctant to do, I can mention that the Board of Governors might be concerned about her pilfering Hogwarts supplies. One never knows when a bit of extra leverage might be handy.

_I am worried about what Hermione is thinking. She knows I saw your handwriting on that bottle. Given that Dumbledore thinks you are his man among the Death Eaters, will she go to him and report what has happened? We don't acknowledge it, but she has to suspect one of my purposes in being at Avalon is to keep an eye on her. She might be afraid I'll tell Father and word will get to the Dark Lord._

Miss Granger will think whatever Dumbledore tells her to think about this matter.

She will probably communicate with Professor Weasley and tell him about the incident. He will consult Dumbledore who will talk to me about it. I shall have no advance knowledge of it, since he believes you and I do not communicate except when I have seen you at your parents' home. I shall tell the Headmaster to inform Miss Granger of Madam Pomfrey's pilferage or whatever else he wishes to tell her. I shall make it clear that I consider the incident of no great consequence. For all I know, the potion is something I made while she still attended Hogwarts and she received it for an illness while here.

I would hope that as an advanced student of Potions, she would be more aware of expiration dates than that. Most potions in the student stores expire within a year of brewing. I do hope you are not allowing her to experiment on you.

_LOL. (That means "laugh out loud"). She is part of my team for the interdisciplinary project and worked on the formulation of our shampoo and hair conditioner. She did a very good job on it. It was a team effort, but she really was the brains behind the potions aspect. You should see what it has done to my hair. It actually glows with health. So far, everyone who has tried it has seen real improvements in their hair. Even Father has started using it to see if it will help with his problem. _

_Please don't mention Father's hair problem to him. He really doesn't want anybody to know about it, even if we already do. He's terribly sensitive about it. _

_I'll get some for you to try. _

Unless it helps with rampaging dandruff without making hair oily, do not trouble yourself. My scalp is naturally oily already and the treatment I use for dandruff works well, but adds to the oil. I must confess, it would be pleasant to have a treatment for dandruff without adding so much extra oil to my hair.

_It can't hurt to try it, even though we haven't experimented to see if it helps with dandruff. Even if you have to put that oily stuff on your scalp, it might still make your hair look better._

Hmm. Fortunately, vanity is not one of my failings. My hair is rather low on my list of priorities. I see that the hour is getting late and I am due for patrol.

_Have fun, Severus. Take lots of points from Gryffindor and make sure Slytherin wins the House Cup this year._

I shall try my best. Goodnight, Draco.

_Goodnight, Severus. I like talking this way. Let's do it again some time._

----------------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry – Simultaneous Communication  
Hermione to Severus

_I am so sorry I created this problem for you. I had just taken the vitamin tonic a few minutes before and it didn't occur to me to put it out of sight. I was studying and wasn't expecting company._

On the whole, I do not believe any real harm has been done. I suggest you behave as if nothing has happened. Draco will probably do the same. The Dark Lord is aware that Madam Pomfrey occasionally passes on potions I have made for Hogwarts to people outside of the school. He believes I have deliberately turned a blind eye to this practice so that I can use it against her at some point.

Perhaps he thinks I can use minor pilferage as leverage to get Poppy to poison Albus or something of the sort, LOL. That is the correct usage of that acronym, is it not?

_It is correct. Would you like to learn about emoticons?_

I believe you explained those before. Emoticons are essentially little pictures of facial expressions made out of letters and punctuation. They must be read sideways to recognize the emotion expressed.

_Exactly._

I see no reason to learn fifteen new ways to express a frown. I believe such things can usually be detected through my writing without visual aids.

_Now, I am laughing out loud. Does the Dark Lord expect you to suborn other staff? _

No. He considers my position too important to risk trying to recruit staff who are clearly in Dumbledore's pocket. While I am expected to exert subtle influence on students who might be recruited into the Death Eaters, I am not to discuss any such possibilities with staff. From the Dark Lord's perspective, my primary role at Hogwarts is to keep him informed of Professor Dumbledore's activities and anything I can tell him about Potter. Much of the sensitive information I know, such as where Potter lives, is Fidelius protected and even the Dark Lord cannot break a Fidelius.

_Does he know that Poppy and Albus are involved?_

It is rather an open secret among the staff. I daresay he helped himself to that bit of knowledge when he shared headroom with Professor Quirrell.

_He knows that the information you bring him consists of bits and pieces that Dumbledore leaks to you, which might turn out to be misinformation. Why does he have you stay at Hogwarts? Wouldn't you be more valuable as his full-time Potions Master?_

I have never been entirely certain. When the Dark Lord returned to a body, he believed I had defected to Dumbledore. After all, he was under Professor Quirrell's turban when I confronted Quirrell about his wavering loyalties. When I returned to the Death Eaters to take up my spying duties, it took all my skill of persuasion and advanced Occlumency to convince the Dark Lord that I was carefully probing Quirrell for information and my loyalties truly remained with him.

I told him that I stayed at Hogwarts because it gave me an opportunity to spy on Dumbledore, which might pay off in the future if the Death Eaters were able to reform. He believes I was thoroughly convinced that his body was destroyed by some magic Dumbledore knew about before the event occurred.

One of my responsibilities as the Dark Lord's spy is to learn anything that might relate to how he was harmed in that incident. I provided him with what he considered to be several years of somewhat useful intelligence. None of it gave up anything critical. It was the kind of information any teacher who had regular contact with the Headmaster could relate.

_If Dumbledore is the only wizard the Dark Lord is afraid of, why hasn't he ordered you to kill him? You could poison him easily enough._

I would be the prime suspect in almost any kind of murder occurring at Hogwarts and would certainly be the subject of an intense manhunt. The only way the Dark Lord would order me to kill Albus would be if he intended to sacrifice me outright or have me escape and come openly to his side. I thought after the debacle at the Ministry of Magic when the Dark Lord could not defeat Dumbledore in a duel, he would order me to do so. He has not and I am uncertain why.

_What would you do if he ordered you to kill Dumbledore?_

If I could somehow bring myself to do it and were caught, it would mean a Dementor's kiss if the Ministry could find one. If I failed to do so, it would be a death sentence from the Dark Lord. I would have to go into deep hiding. Hiding from the Dark Lord is virtually impossible and I would not survive for long.

If you think Sirius Black was difficult when he was confined to Grimmauld Place, I daresay I would be far worse. Still, the Dark Lord could torture me through the Mark to force me to come to him. There is no way to hide from the Dark Mark, short of amputating my left forearm. Even then, I cannot be certain there is no other link binding me to the Dark Lord. No one has ever been able to do a deep probe of the Dark Mark to determine all of its qualities. Anything other than light probes triggers the Mark and the Dark Lord will know who has attempted it. Death Eaters who were captured by Aurors during the first war were subjected to intense probing. It was essentially a form of torture of the prisoners and triggered fatal effects. That is why no one has discovered a way to counter the Mark or remove it.

Albus and I have discussed this possibility. He has said before that if it ever comes to a choice of him or me, my role as a spy is more critical than his role as leader of the Order. Albus believes there are others capable of replacing him, but no one who could take my place. He has directed me to kill him, if it comes to that.

I do not wish to imagine the kind of circumstances that would actually require me to fulfill such an order. Circumstances would have to be dire and I would find it very hard to live with myself afterwards.

_Don't do it, Severus. If the Dark Lord ever requires it of you, we'll go into hiding. Mr. Schuler has already offered to hide our people in the United States, if needed. Get here, whatever way you can and we'll find a way to deal with the Dark Mark. We could keep you unconscious for a long period of time until we find a way to neutralize the Mark. If the only solution is to amputate your arm, I'd rather have you alive and missing an arm than lose you altogether. We'll find a way, we'll do whatev-_

Hermione. Hush, sweetheart. Your ink is smearing. I did not intend to make you cry.

_I can't help it. I love you and I don't want to lose you._

I shall do everything I reasonably can to come out of this alive.

You love me?

_Couldn't you tell? I seem to be wearing my heart on my sleeve whenever I'm around you._

I had hoped

I have entertained hopes

Hope that my feelings were returned.

_You love me, too?_

Yes. I do not know why it is so hard to write or to say. I feel as if I am tempting fate, somehow. If I say it, it will disappear or be snatched away.

_It won't go away. You couldn't lose what I feel for you._

I could try saying it aloud as I write it. Perhaps, when we are together I will find the courage to say it to you.

_We could practice writing it._

_I love you._

_I love you_

_I love you _

I am thousands of miles away and in this moment in time, you have made me happy.

I love you.

------------------

Author's notes

We all know the ending of the Half Blood Prince. I couldn't resist incorporating my opinions about what happened into Severus' conversation with Hermione. In the _Looking for Magic_ universe, the murder of Dumbledore by Professor Snape never happened.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Me613, Broken2nite, Excessivelyperky, Killerangel, Nottbook, Secretstrangeangel, Squiggles.Candi, CharmedForte, Sandstar08, Duj, Lilsnape, Morbidmanda13, Ebbe04, Andi-Scribbles, Notwritten, Danielle, Lady Mariel, Quiet-mg, AmiMizuno1, Droxy, KarlaMarie, Remus r us, Jade2099, Arsinoe De Blassenville, MollysSister, Lyndie578, Pyro313, Dolphindreamer, Keket Amunet, Koliber, Squeaker19450, Nutters4Potter, Evil Mastermind 666 (known as Evil for short), Hebi R., Erytha, Darque Hart, Trulyamused, Latinachikita, Madamsnape78, KeiraAchiOkanabe, Arime Setta, Rinny08, Valkarie, Soul Chaser, Jocemum, Mara Angel, Lucyferina, Dobbinff, JLDsgirl07, Sarah and Lupin, and Sunsethill.


	70. Chapter 70

I own nothing you recognize. I only play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this monster chapter and pointing out that June doesn't actually have 31 days. Oops.

For our German readers, Katyes has translated 42 chapters of _Looking for Magic_. It can be found at this website as _Auf der Suche Nach Magie_ by Katyes. A round of applause, if you please.

-------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Warren Stevens; NYluvrboy6 at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
From: Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Date: April 15th  
Re: Project submission

I asked Professor Boch how many samples of the shampoo and conditioner we would need for judging. He suggested that we include ten of each with our submission. We don't have quite enough of our stock on hand, thanks to Draco. We need to get together for one more brewing session. I have signed up for lab time tomorrow night.

The bottles I ordered have arrived. If Warren has the label design done for us to look at, we can proceed. The revised draft of our report is attached. Please read it thoroughly and we will discuss it while we are working. If everything goes well, we can have our project ready to submit within a week.

--------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Warren Stevens; Nyluvrboy6 at a w l . com  
From: Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
Date: April 15th  
Re: Hair care products

I'll have you know, my mother loved what our shampoo and conditioner did for her hair. She's the envy of her friends and didn't say a word about how much I ran up my credit card last month. Believe me, when we find a manufacturer to buy the formulation, her endorsement will result in a lot of sales. Which can only help our careers in the long run.

-----------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 15th, 1999

Hermione,

I dropped my Firebolt off at Quality Quidditch Supplies last week, just like I said I would. I picked it up today after my shift and the manager told me I was lucky I brought it in when I did. The charms they use to keep the broom balanced so the flyer doesn't get tipped off had faded and were about to give out. The company that makes the Firebolt line has had three other brooms with this problem and just issued a recall to check all of them made between 1992 and 1995.

Whatever it was that made you worry that something was wrong with the Firebolt probably saved me from a very nasty fall that could easily have ended in a loud "splat".

So, are you planning to start taking tea with Trelawney or what?

Thanks for the warning. Feel free to worry and nag anytime.

Harry

----------------------

**E-mail Communication**

To: Sydney Abramowitz: TheCanDoWizard at a w l . com  
From:Margaret Schuler: Architect3 at a w l . com  
Date: April 15th, 1999  
Re: Thanks

It's good to know that I can always count on you. Thank you for making space in your schedule to get Mr. Malfoy's work on the top floor done early. My kids are looking forward to being able to move into their apartments before the end of the school year at Avalon.

I passed on your son's resume to the Human Resources Department at Digital Magic. It has been flagged to get the H.R. Director's personal attention. Your son should be hearing from Kelly Greenborough within the next week to set up an interview for suitable open positions.

It is always a pleasure to help out a friend. Besides, Aaron is very bright and an Avalon graduate. I'm sure he'll be an asset to Digital Magic.

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 16th, 1999

Harry,

I'm so relieved they fixed whatever was wrong with the Firebolt. I haven't got a clue about why I was worried about the broom.

I'm not taking tea with Trelawney, but I'd consider it with Professor Firenze. He's rather good looking, you know.

Though I suppose given the proclivities of centaurs, I'd better not even kid about that.

I'm studying for tomorrow's exam in Potions and need to get back to work.

Hermione.

------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To: Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date: April 16th, 1999  
Re: Housing security

I have consulted with Professors Boch and Littlehorse. They are in agreement that the premier American authority on bonding spells is Julia Franks. She holds a Mastery in Charms and is currently teaching History of Magic at St. Bridget's Academy. She is also Chairperson of the American Council on Ethics in Wizardry, a very prestigious group in academic circles.

According to Professor Boch, she has done quite a bit of research on the Grindelwald Marks, using subjects who immigrated to the United States and Canada after the war. Boch believes that the Voldemort Dark Mark probably uses magical systems derived from the Grindelwald Mark.

I suggest approaching her directly and offering her a standard consulting contract with the usual confidentiality clause. We need to ensure that the wards at the apartment building will identify anyone who bears the Voldemort Dark Mark if we are to provide full security when our target subjects move in. At this time, we are using Havens Security ward for the general class of bonded slaves. This should trigger an alarm, but we would prefer to have the ward more specific.

-----------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Draco Malfoy, Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
From: Sydney Abramowitz, TheCanDoWizard at a w l . com  
Date: April 16th, 1999  
Re: Bathrooms

I've got my crew working on the bathrooms on the top floor. So far, there have been no unpleasant surprises. This afternoon, I'll pop in to the unoccupied apartments to check their bathrooms. I should be able to provide you with a list of what will be needed to bring those bathrooms up to specifications.

Since the bathrooms are coming along so well, I believe we will be able to start painting the apartments on the top floor right away. We will be using the standard eggshell white that is keyed to the individual holding the apartment lease for use with color charms.

The hardwood floors are in good shape and will require only a few cosmetic repair charms to fully restore them. The linoleum has arrived and will be installed in the kitchens and bathrooms immediately after the painting is done.

Barring the unforeseen, I would estimate that the apartments on the top floor will be ready for your inspection on April 23rd and occupancy by April 24th.

----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 16th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

The other night, you speculated that Remus might suspect something about our relationship, given the manner in which he chivied Potter out of the lab. In considering what you said, I have taken the chance and told Minerva about our relationship. Her response exceeded my hopes. To quote her exactly; "I am entirely pleased." She said she had hoped the two of us might discover each other.

I had considerable trepidation about revealing our relationship to anyone, but am much relieved by Minerva's positive response. You are one of her favorites, above and beyond being a former student. That she approves of our relationship may support your theory that others may have noticed and not said anything to avoid interfering.

Perhaps you should consider disclosing this to Bill. Given the roles you are expected to play, it might make things more comfortable for you if he understands that I have a prior claim on your affections. One which I shall certainly defend against all comers, as it were. It will also make things easier for me if I can speak a bit more openly with Bill. I will not have to pretend disinterest in those occasions when the two of you are together.

The weapons committee is not meeting tonight or tomorrow. Our next step requires a human subject test with the fire bladder extract. Bill and Ellen will be meeting Arthur and Molly on Saturday to see if Arthur will volunteer. He is closest in size to the Dark Lord of all of the Order members we could approach. If he agrees, we will run the test on Sunday.

I have received no communication from Lucius Malfoy about the incident with Draco and the vitamin tonic. If Draco had reported it to his father, I am confident the senior Malfoy would have communicated with me about it.

I am holding office hours this evening to meet Seventh Years who are preparing for NEWTs. I decided to write to you early in case my usually sunny disposition is sorely tested and I find myself uncharacteristically irritable later this evening. Whatever my mood may be, I am determined not to take it out on you.

Yours,  
Severus

--------------------------

Paired Journal Entry  
Hermione to Severus  
April 16th, 1999

Dear Severus,

Everything has been fine between Draco and myself. We are both pretending that the incident with the vitamin tonic never happened and that everything is normal between us. Warren and Anita are always around, so Draco and I are rarely alone. That helps. I'm relieved Mr. Malfoy hasn't contacted you about the incident. Draco is probably keeping it to himself.

Do you think that he is genuine about being a friend? I believe he is.

I am overjoyed that Minerva approves of our relationship. It is wonderful to know that we have an ally and may have hope of others. Her approval means a lot and may be an influence on others who might see things less favorably.

I agree that Bill would be a logical choice to tell next. Would it be better to tell him in person or by journal? He is planning to come to Chicago for the weekend when I move into my apartment, probably at the end of the month. Bill plans to do a thorough check of the wards and teach me additional detection spells. We'd both like to know what additional wards Mr. Schuler is arranging for the apartment building.

I have to leave to meet Warren to brew the final batch of shampoo and hair conditioner for our interdisciplinary project. There are ten teachers who serve as judges for the projects and we intend each of them will have a generous sample of both to try. We'll be making plenty of extra so each team member has some for our own use. I would like you to try it some time and tell me what you think.

As you face all of those anxious students who are on the verge of panic attacks, be kind. I recall entirely too vividly what it was like. I'd bet you remember, too. You were probably on your last nerve and too proud to let a soul know.

With your congenial disposition, you could try smiling at the students. I get this wonderful melty feeling when you smile at me. It might help relieve their fears.

Or leave them utterly terrified.

Love,  
Hermione

---------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Draco Malfoy, Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
From: Jessica Bosley, JBosley at havenssecurity . com  
Date: April 17th, 1999  
Re: Warding

I have arranged for the wooden privacy fence to be installed on the 21st after your last Muggle tenant has moved out. It should take two days. Our warding specialists will complete the outdoor warding on the 23rd. The warding of the building will be completed on the 26th.

Per our contractual agreement, the wards will include:

**Outdoors**:  
Deluxe Outdoor Apartment Complex Package including:  
Familiar Containment  
Muggles-With-Business-Only Admittance  
Notice-Me-Not wards.  
Werewolf, Troll, Vampire, Lethifold and Other Pests Alarms  
Owl and Other Delivery Bird Admittance

**Building:  
**Deluxe Apartment Building Security Package including:  
Apartment Pet Doors With Security Tags for Pet Collars  
Muggles-With-Business-Only Admittance  
Muggle-on-the-Floor Alerts  
Noise Reduction  
Pervert Peeking in the Window Alert  
Owl and Other Delivery Bird Admittance  
Unregistered Ghost Alarm  
General Privacy  
Werewolf, Troll, Vampire, Lethifold and Other Pests Alarms  
Ban-this-Wizard ™ Wizard specific repellent

**Individual Apartments  
**Stay-Out-Unless-I-Let-You-In Package  
General Privacy Package

Your tenants will be provided with the opportunity to select apartment specific wards from our standard list as a part of the overall package. Naturally, all apartment specific wards can be cancelled at your notice if the tenant falls behind on the rent. All of the wards on apartments will allow approved house-elves through.

See the attachment for your contract. As you can see, I have approved a 30 discount off of our regular price for the first year's service in addition to our free installation. All you need do is print out the contract, sign it and enclose a check for the first three months.

If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me. We aren't satisfied until you are satisfied.

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Ron to Hermione  
April 17th, 1999

Hermione,

It's official. Lavender and I have broken up.

It was making her crazy that I couldn't count on being available on Saturday nights. She was making me crazy by calling me Won-Won.

Got any friends over there who are looking for a tall good looking Auror apprentice with a nice personality? Who is looking for fun and not a commitment? You could mention that it's Bill's younger brother.

Okay, okay. I know Harry and I aren't supposed to come and see you. I'm kind of disappointed. Here it is a Saturday night that I actually have off and I don't have a date.

I think I'll go to the Leaky Cauldron and see who's hanging around. Oh, that's right. I'm not allowed to go off alone to Diagon Alley or any of the other places where I might meet someone in case a Death Eater decides to snatch one of Harry's friends.

I could go to headquarters. Maybe Remus and Tonks are there and I can have someone to talk to.

That might not be a good idea. You wouldn't believe what I walked in on a few days ago. I'm never going to look at that rocking chair in the same way again. I'm not going to sit on it, either.

I'm soooooooo lonely. At least I can count on you to feel sorry for me, can't I? If things don't work out between you and Bill, maybe we could try again?

Your best friend, who is sitting in his bedroom at the Burrow all alone on a Saturday night while his friends are at least doing something.

Ron

-------------------------------

Paired Journal Entry  
Harry to Hermione  
April 18th, 1999

Hermione,

Your term ends on May 28th? I can't believe how lucky you are. You'll be finished with your first year of college a whole month earlier than when Hogwarts finishes on June 30th. That should give you plenty of time to get your apartment set up before your summer class begins.

Any chance Ginny and I could have a key?

Okay. Phenomenally bad idea, given that Malfoy is the landlord.

I think Remus has figured it out that I've been sneaking Ginny in here on occasion. She left an ankle bracelet in the bathroom the other night and Remus came out carrying it this morning. He dropped it in my hand and didn't say a word.

Of course, I don't think he can say much. I think Remus and Tonks like to use different pieces of furniture for purposes they weren't designed for. Last time she was here, I arrived home from work and found Remus repairing the rocking chair in the living room. He and Tonks just kept smiling at each other in a way that made me nervous.

Dobby says he makes himself scarce whenever the two of them are here and doesn't go near them unless he's called. I think he must have walked in on something. He looked pretty traumatized when he told me.

So, how are things going with your new boyfriend? Remus told Ron and me that Dumbledore asked you and Bill to be couriers for him. Even though it is supposed to be an act, I think Ron is hoping something will come of it. If you end up with Bill and Ginny and I are married, we really will be brothers and sister, even if it is in the in-law sense of things.

I'm really looking forward to Ginny starting her Mediwitch training at St. Mungo's in September. I'm in London. She'll be in London. No matter how busy things get, we'll find a way to have time together.

How are you feeling? Still doing okay with the warming charms?

By the way, how are things going with the nightmares? Have they stopped?

Take care and let me know how you're doing.

Harry

--------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
From: Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy13 at a w l . com  
Date: April 18th, 1999  
Re: House-elves

I interviewed Wilhelmina's cousin Edgar and his wife Dorothy yesterday. I hired them on the spot so they can give their two week notice at the hotel where they work. If Dorothy is half as good a cook as Wilhelmina is, we should all be very happy. It sounds like Edgar has done everything at that hotel from bellman to handyman. They should be ideal for what we need. They'll be getting one of the basement apartments as part of the deal.

Please thank Wilhelmina for me. I've already sent her flowers and a thank-you note, but I want her to know I really appreciate her recruiting them for me.

---------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 18th, 1999

Dear Harry,

I hope it doesn't sound like bragging, but I actually completed a little more than 1 ½ years of college in the last year. Without a time-turner – thank goodness. Instead, I did an independent study for Potions 201 and tested out of all of the first semester of classes. I should have achieved my Potions Domina in 2004. If I can catch some classes during the summers and carry a full load, I hope to finish sometime in 2003. I'd really like to come home and just be with all of you. I would have done that this summer, had it not been for Professor Dumbledore asking Bill and me to be couriers.

As it is, I plan to spend all the time I can back in Britain. I probably wouldn't have had so many problems dealing with losing Mum and Dad if I had been able to stay closer to my friends and adopted family this last year.

Please don't get your hopes up that Bill and I will hit it off as boyfriend and girlfriend and discourage Ron from thinking it could happen. We've already had a long talk about it and agreed that we just don't see each other That Way. We're friends and we can fake it well enough, because we enjoy each other's company.

I got a journal entry from Ron who says he has broken up with Lavender. Here I thought things were all hot, heavy, and serious between those two. Sounds like I had the serious part wrong. He was whining a lot about how hard it is to meet women. Maybe after Ginny starts her Mediwitch training, she could introduce him to some of the other apprentices. I don't think I'll be able to help him much with meeting girls since the two of you can't come to Chicago.

Is Ron at all heartbroken or anything like that? It was hard to tell from what he wrote. He was mostly whining.

I'm feeling pretty good. Fred was right when he warned me I'd need warming charms for a month after the Cruciatus treatment. It's very chilly here in Chicago. I do get tired easily. I've taken to doing a lot of my reading in bed and letting myself doze off when I get sleepy. Crooks really appreciates it since he's getting more snuggle time.

Speaking of which, I don't remember much about what happened while I was sick. I do remember snuggling up between you and Ron. You are very snuggly, one of the things Ginny appreciates about you, I am certain.

As for the nightmares, I haven't had any since I came back to Chicago. I've only had one since the middle of March. There's something I ought to confess. When I wrote to you about the nightmares, I was really a mess. I couldn't sleep without having the most horrid dreams, so I wasn't sleeping much at all. I had no appetite and I know I lost a lot of weight.

The only thing that got rid of the nightmares for any length of time was to go and visit Mum and Dad's graves. You went with me twice and it helped. I'd talk to them and feel better for a while, but the nightmares kept coming back. In March, it was really bad and I decided to go to the cemetery by myself.

I know. That was really stupid because the Death Eaters could have set a trap for me. I was getting desperate to get some relief.

This is the part that has made all the difference. Professor Snape intercepted me at the cemetery. He figured out what I had been doing and confronted me with it. We talked for hours.

Did you know that Professor Snape's father killed his mother and then committed suicide? It happened when he was twelve years old.

You can't ever tell anyone I told you this next part.

Professor Snape told me about how guilty he felt that he couldn't protect his mother from his father. It led him to make a lot of bad decisions later on. I've been doing the same kind of thing. I felt so guilty that my parents died that I was essentially self-destructing.

You've explained to me how you felt when you were told the truth about how your parents died. You felt guilty that your mother died because she wouldn't step aside when Voldemort wanted to kill you, even though you know she wouldn't have it any other way.

You know how overwhelming that kind of guilt can get.

Severus understands too. He stayed with me at the cemetery and we talked it out. I made a promise to him and my parents that I wouldn't go back to the cemetery until the war is over and it is safe. Since then, I've had one nightmare. I'm actually sleeping very well and my appetite is back. I won't say I will never backslide, but if I start having problems again, I intend to talk to Severus about it. Talking to him has really helped.

There isn't any doubt that you, Ron, and I had real problems with Professor Snape when we were students. Now that we're finished at Hogwarts and are moving into the adult world, I don't think any of us are having those same kinds of problems in getting along with him. We treat him with more respect and he treats us better. He and I get along very well. I hope that things will continue to improve for you and Ron, too.

I probably should have told you all of this while I was home over the Easter holiday, but things just got in the way. Muggles have this great saying; "Shit happens". Well, shit happened and I didn't. I just hope that someday, you and Professor Snape can sort of be friends. Okay, maybe like colleagues who can be civil to each other or something like that.

Love,  
Hermione

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Ron  
April 18th, 1999

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry to hear about you and Lavender. Maybe she was looking for a kind of commitment that you aren't ready to make. At least it doesn't sound like you're looking for anything other than fun at the moment.

Please don't start thinking that Bill and I are going to end up together. Remus told you that we are only acting like we're dating in order to cover trips back and forth while we're working on weapons development. He's like a brother to me. Just like you are, remember?

In case you've forgotten, I believe it was Sixth Year during the Halloween Dance. We snuck off to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to do some major groping. It was during the tongue action that we both started to gag. It wasn't just because we really didn't know what to do with our tongues. I think you said something about that all of a sudden it was like you were kissing Ginny?

We're not ever going to date again. No matter how lonely or desperate we get on a Saturday night. It felt wrong. We're too much like family.

Do not forget this.

I can't help you in the meeting new girls department. You're not supposed to come here, anyway. Maybe when Ginny starts her apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, she'll be able to introduce you to some of the other apprentices.

You know that my friend Warren is gay. He thinks Bill is incredibly hot and asked if he had any brothers. I could tell him about you. Warren really is a lot of fun. They say that if you play for both teams, you get more turns at bat.

Yes, I am having fun at your expense.

Now that I think of it, it really is difficult to meet single wizards and witches except at school. So many get engaged or married right after finishing school, there aren't a lot left over. At least the ones with apprenticeships usually wait until after those are completed. I wonder why that is? I'll have to do a little research.

Thanks for giving me an idea of how to spend my evening.

Hermione

-------------------------

Journal Article, bookmarked on Hermione's computer

_Ethical Considerations in Magical Bonding  
__An Overview  
__The North American Journal of Magical History  
__July, 1995  
__Julia Franks, C.M.  
__Chairperson of the American Council for Ethics in Wizardry  
__History of Magic Instructor  
__Saint Bridget's Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
__Oak Park, Illinois  
__United States of America_

In the early eighteen hundreds, western Muggle and wizarding societies experienced a gradual movement away from the concept of considering other human beings as chattel. It should be noted that this did not mean that the wizarding world considered Muggles to be an equal species alongside wizards, but that owning human beings might be a morally flawed notion. Over time, this evolution in society resulted in laws forbidding slavery and indentured servitude.

This trend extended into the courtship and marriage rites of those societies. For centuries, the wizarding world of Europe and Great Britain consisted of a small upper class and large lower class. The middle class was miniscule, at best.

The upper class consisted of a number of families who owned most of the property, held massive wealth, and controlled the government. Access to the upper class generally required being magically powerful in order to acquire and sustain holdings. The vast majority of these families were considered Pureblooded. A Pureblood family was defined as having no direct lineage with Muggle ancestory for five generations. Lower class families were more likely to have Muggle ancestory. The lower class included those who functioned as the labor in enterprises owned by Pureblooded families.

The wizarding middle class emerged in the early nineteenth century. These included upwardly mobile members of the lower class and downwardly mobile members of the upper class. The middle class consisted of owners of small and medium sized businesses, members of the Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Healer and the Nursing Sisters guilds who had highly prized skills, and members of other professions.

The advent of the middle class offered significant opportunities to ambitious and magically capable members of the lower class. This resulted in an overall economic and cultural boom in the wizarding world.

The formal education of children in academic as well as magical skills has always been prized by upper class. The most expensive and advanced educational institutions such as Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts were very nearly the exclusive province of the upper class until the formation of the middle class. These boarding schools have long-term reputations for high levels of academic and magical achievement and were typically springboards into upper class society.

As the concept of universal education spread through the western wizarding world, governments began to subsidize the educational costs of the wizarding schools. Denizens of the lower class had formal educational opportunities available through small local wizarding schools, home schooling, and guild sponsored apprenticeships. By the early nineteenth century, a wizarding child typically received sufficient education in basic literacy, maths, Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. By the mid-nineteenth century, the vast majority of wizarding children received education through the Ordinary Wizarding Levels.

In the twentieth century, the concept of universal education swept through the wizarding world. The number of day schools increased and enrollment at the magical boarding schools grew dramatically. A quality education was viewed as the key to upward mobility, which certainly has proven true as the century wears on.

It could be said that it was the gradual evolution of the middle class that had the most profound impact on courtship rituals in the wizarding world. Traditionally, the most powerful families arranged marriages among themselves in order to preserve fortunes and gain influence and power. Virtually all of these marriages were made with some form of bond, as contracted for prior to the nuptials. Typically, the parents of the male child would consider a number of prospective brides. By the age of ten, a suitable girl would be identified and the parents of the male would approach the parents of the female to begin negotiations.

Negotiations could include specific properties and fortunes to be settled by both families onto the newly wedded couple. In some detail minded families, issues of contraception, number of children expected, frequency of intimacy, questions of fidelity, and the role of mistresses and lovers were specified in the contract. When agreement was reached, a betrothal ceremony would be held.

Betrothal ceremonies were usually took place before both of the children were enrolled in one of the upper class boarding schools. The rites included bonding by blood in order to ensure the two children would be drawn only to each other up to the time of marriage. In keeping with the times, the bond that held the girl was more restrictive than that of the boy. The young man was permitted to seek out sexual congress with other women or men (as preferred). This practice was encouraged as an expression of masculinity and the belief that males require sexual outlets after puberty that females did not. It was not at all unusual for young males to hire women of the lower classes to provide for those experiences.

The betrothed female, on the other hand, was expected to remain chaste until marriage. Even basic knowledge of self-gratification was withheld on the belief that it would encourage inappropriate exploration of sexuality. This chastity was enforced through the charms and blood bonding conducted at the time of the betrothal. Quite literally, the young woman was unable to achieve sexual gratification except through contact with her betrothed. Betrothed couples were carefully chaperoned in order to ensure such opportunities for exploration did not occur. Even while attending the same boarding schools, these couples were monitored by staff and house-elves to ensure compliance with the strictures of the betrothal contracts.

In the rigid social structure of the times, upper class witches were virtually sequestered in order to preserve their chastity until marriage. It was common for households to employ widowed family members as companions, governesses, and tutors. One of their most important functions was to chaperone the young women of the family.

While many young couples were married as soon as their magical educations were completed, there were still a number of young people for whom no contract had been made. This may have been because no suitable match had been found in childhood. In other cases, the childhood betrothal ended with the demise of one of the parties.

Because the betrothal bonds could not be rescinded, some important families opted not to pursue childhood betrothals. The rise and fall of families depended on the outcomes of wars, political machinations, and economic trends that could not always be predicted. A family considered suitable at one time might become unsuitable ten years later. Some families preferred to wait until their children reached adulthood to pursue acceptable marriages. Others believed that male children should have input into their choice of a bride or that males should establish themselves socially, politically, and financially before taking a wife. In keeping with the higher mortality rates of the time, there were always widowers in need of a wife.

In such cases, the age disparity between husband and wife could be considerable. It was not uncommon for a difference of forty or fifty years to be found. Occasionally, the age difference was reversed with a widow accepting betrothal to a younger man. This was more likely to happen if the male was a younger son within the family with fewer prospects. In any case, such an arrangement was only considered if the female was still of childbearing age.

One long-term outcome of magically enforced compatibility during childbearing years was growing apart once the children were grown. Many of these marriages ultimately ended up as two people living separate lives. The bonds established at the time of marriage took one of the following combinations:

Mutual lifelong fidelity  
Lifelong fidelity of the wife, no fidelity of the husband  
Lifelong fidelity of the wife, fidelity of the husband during the wife's childbearing years  
Mutual fidelity during childbearing years

One result of these restrictions was large number of couples who were incompatible outside of the magical enforcement of the fidelity bond. By the time the children were older or raised, it was common to find a husband and wife living in separate wings of the same house or in separate residences altogether.

The lower wizarding classes were more likely to marry for love. A small minority within the lower classes used arranged marriages, usually to combine properties or to gain access to guild apprenticeship programs. Invariably, those families who utilized arranged marriages aspired to the upper class.

In all levels of the western wizarding worlds, the overall standard placed the highest value on a bride who was young, magically powerful, fertile, and in possession of a good dowry.

The advent of the wizarding middle class and their incursion into the boarding schools was the catalyst for change in the courtship standards of the western wizarding world.

When Pureblooded families controlled education and reserved the best schools for themselves, the system of arranged marriages could be reasonably controlled. With an influx of students from the newly formed middle class, new values were introduced. The middle class families were much more likely to have recent Muggle ancestry and were influenced by the lower wizarding class and Muggle concepts of marriage for love.

This exposure had a powerful impact on the attitudes of young Purebloods. They saw their compatriots form attachments with partners of their own choice instead of mates who were chosen for them before puberty. In spite of magical bonds already in place, it allowed these youngsters to imagine what it would be like to be free to choose their own life partner. Although the bonds could not be undone, these couples could make different choices for their own children. As a result, the practice of betrothing children prior to their enrollment in magical boarding schools fell to the wayside.

The concept of compatibility changed. In the past, compatibility was magically induced. Couples were drawn together because of the power of potions and charms. Often, these bonding methods manipulated the female into adapting to the male's preferences. In the 1800's wizarding society changed tactics in response to new middle class values. Instead, families opted to negotiate betrothals between suitable couples who had met while attending school and felt a certain level of compatibility based on shared interests and temperaments.

Families continued to make an effort to socialize with other families of the same social class and circle to encourage meeting suitable candidates for marriage. The preferences of the couples were taken into consideration. By 1860, it was common practice for the family of the male to approach the family of the prospective bride and negotiate a marriage contract. Bondings typically took place when the girl was between sixteen and eighteen. Marriage usually took place upon the girl's completion of her magical education.

Without magic compelling the young women to adapt to the preferences of their betrothed, teenage girls were much freer to develop their own personalities and preferences. These factors became increasingly important in the overall compatibility of the couple. When ignored, the wizarding world found itself dealing with couples who were poor matches and unhappily married with no way out. Marriage bonds based on Unbreakable Vows and blood-based bonding potions could not be dissolved. Legal separation could be arranged, but only the death of one of the marriage partners could dissolve the bond.

By 1890, the number of murders of husbands by fidelity bonded wives increased dramatically. It was the only way out of a miserable marriage that allowed the surviving party to remarry.

About the same time, couples were gaining more control over their choice of a spouse. Middle class witches and wizards chose their marriage partners and pledged themselves to each other. They usually married after the bride completed her education, but longer courtships without blood binding were becoming common. This practice expanded into the upper classes.

The ritual of Claiming grew out of a desire to establish courtship bonds that could be broken if the couple determined they were incompatible. Unlike the betrothal rituals of the past, these bonds were not based in blood but by honor vows made in a magical contract. Most typically, Claiming was used by families when the age disparity between the prospective bride and groom was such that they would not have attended school at the same time or moved in different social circles and so were not well-acquainted.

The first step in Claiming typically required the suitor's family to call upon the family of the young lady. Negotiations took place regarding the length of courtship time, frequency of contact, the role of chaperones, acceptable types of gifts, acceptable and unacceptable kinds of behaviors. With input from the couple in question, the contract and vows for the ceremony were written. By tradition, the ceremony where the contract was signed and vows made was held outdoors, usually in a garden. The couple essentially promised to engage in courtship behaviors exclusively with each other for the duration of the contract. The external representation of the Claiming was made by wearing matching bracelets exchanged by the couple during the ceremony. Traditionally, the bracelets and the couple are blessed by their respective families.

The significance of Claiming lies not in the number of couples who married at the end of the contracted time period, but the number who did not. In spite of societal pressures, approximately one third of Claimed couples decided they were incompatible and ended their relationship at the completion of the contract. Research has shown that couples who participated in a Claimed relationship prior to marriage were significantly less likely to murder their spouse in later years. The success of this system is reflected in the fact that Claiming is still used as a courtship rite in Europe and Great Britain.

------------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To: Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date: April 19th, 1999  
Re: Housing security

You are authorized to approach Professor Franks with an offer for a consulting contract. You may negotiate up to 25 higher than the usual rate. Anything else must receive my personal approval.

I doubt Professor Dumbledore will confide the identity of his spy or spies within the Death Eaters to me. Until I have more information, I cannot interpret the Marked Man and the Maiden prophecy with any confidence.

Above and beyond the security of Malfoy's apartment building, I want to be able to offer something to Dumbledore to build his trust in us. Offering to find a way to neutralize the Voldemort Mark might go a long way to accomplishing that. I consider this a priority.

Obviously, I have no confirmation of this from Dumbledore, but I presume Severus Snape is probably one of the operatives. I would appreciate your speculation on the identities of any others.

------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Lucius to Draco  
April 19th, 1999

Draco,

You must obtain more of the hair care products for me. They have solved the problem I was having with my roots showing without having to resort to hair dye potions. You have no idea what a difficulty this has been ever since that damned woman hexed me. A Malfoy with brown hair, indeed. It is just as embarrassing as the fact that she got the drop on me.

A year's supply and you may have that car you want.

I want the formulation, as well. I must be able to have it made for me privately if it is not available commercially.

Father

------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 19th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

Your last letter really got me thinking about things that have happened in the last year.

Then I started to read between the lines.

Tell me if I've got this wrong or if I'm way out of line. I'm going to love you and be your friend no matter how you answer.

Are you sweet on Snape?

Love,  
Harry

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 20th, 1999

Dear Harry,

Yes. Please keep this just between us.

Love,  
Hermione

------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l . com  
Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
From: Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
Date: April 20th, 1999  
Re: Good news

I went over to the apartment building last night and checked the work that's been done so far on the top floor. The contractor is making real progress and the last tenant will be out of the building today. It looks like we'll be able to start furnishing our apartments on the 24th. We shouldn't move in or spend nights there until Havens Security gets the privacy fence and the wards installed. I'm thinking we could move in on Saturday, May 1st.

The house-elves won't be starting until May 3rd. They'll be available for apartment set-up and general cleaning around the building. The construction of the common dining room and the kitchen for the cook won't be done until the end of May. I've asked Dorothy, the house-elf cook if she would use my kitchen to cook for us until her kitchen is done. She has agreed to this. She's putting together a budget so that I can determine what it would cost split evenly between us.

I'll be sending each of you a separate e-mail with the lease attached for you to read through. I have a hard copy for signing. Your security deposit and first month's rent are due before you move in (Hey, I'm running a business here.)

Anybody want to go furniture shopping tonight?

--------------------------

**E-mail Communication**

To: Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
From: Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l . com  
Date: April 20th, 1999  
Re: Trip to IKEA

I am officially organizing our furniture shopping trip to IKEA. We will leave promptly at 6:00 pm this evening. Be sure to bring along the color swatches I gave you for the color schemes for your apartments. I have the room measurements so we can make sure everything fits.

After we're done, I suggest we pick up a couple of pizzas and head over to the apartment building. Cindy will need company, now that the Muggles have moved out.

Does anybody have anything moldy we could bring her in appreciation for her outstanding work?

------------------------------

**E-mail Communication**

To: Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l . com  
From: Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
Date: April 20th, 1999  
Re: Trip to IKEA

I can't go. My interdisciplinary team is working all evening on our project.

Yeah, yeah. So, Hermione got you guys organized and yours is all done. Just wait until next year when I recruit Hermione for my team.

Think about it, Hermione. You'd be a second semester Second Year student working on a team with Fourth and Fifth years. It'll look great on your resume.

It's only fair to warn the rest of you ahead of time. If I weren't Anita's brother, I wouldn't warn you at all.

-----------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 20th, 1999

Dear Hermione

I have good news. Arthur agreed to be the test subject for the magic suppression properties of the fire bladder extract. We ran the test Sunday evening at headquarters. Arthur's magic was suppressed for almost five hours, which is twice as long as we anticipated with the dosage used. I must confess that Ellen and I were a bit concerned that we might have taken away Arthur's magic altogether when it did not return in three hours. However, we maintained a professional demeanor in order to keep Molly from hurling Crucios.

Arthur appeared to enjoy the experience. He insisted on inspecting the boiler, flicking light switches on and off, examining the water heater and using Potter's Muggle coffee maker. As a reward and to keep him occupied, we allowed Arthur to disassemble and rebuild the coffee maker. Since it no longer works, I am told I owe Potter a new coffee maker. Perhaps you could suggest what I should purchase and where I should purchase it from. Better yet, would you purchase something suitable and send it to him? I shall repay you.

Arthur had no negative side affects from the firebladder extract. His blood pressure stayed at normal levels for him (though Ellen feels his normal blood pressure is a bit high and prescribed a potion for it).

Charlie Weasley brought us the extract from nine of the miniature Swedish short snouts, which should see us well through the experimentation stage. He will begin taking more of the firebladder extract in the next two weeks to be used in the actual weapon.

Our next step is to determine non-fatal dosages of the crack cocaine on the garter snakes. We will also begin combining the fire bladder extract mist and the crack cocaine smoke and determine if these are compatible together.

So much to do.

Tomorrow evening will be office hours for OWL students. I did not smile at the NEWT students, preferring to reserve my smiles for you. I would not wish to engender "melty" feelings in anyone else. I will, however, attempt to restrain myself from growling at them.

As for the issue of Draco's friendship, I believe he considers the two of you to be friends and would not knowingly chose to do you harm. However, he is in a position where his parents could be held hostage by the Dark Lord. That is one of the reasons we must strive to ensure that you do nothing to attract the Dark Lord's interest.

It is an extra level of protection that Schuler's people are involved. From your description and Bill's, they sound very professional and very proficient. Should anything happen that gives reason to believe that Draco will be required to deliver you over, you must not hesitate to go into the protective custody of Schuler's security agents. We will sort everything else out later.

Sleep well.  
Severus

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
April 21st, 1999

Dear Severus,

No problem with the coffee maker. I ordered one on-line from a company in Britain. It will be sent to Harry's Muggle address at the Ministry.

It is a relief to hear that the test on Arthur went well. If we can use a lower dosage than we originally thought, we can make the firebladder extract stretch further since our resources there are limited.

I hope Draco is never forced to choose between his parents and new loyalties here. For all that I might be in danger should such a thing happen, Anita's situation would be worse. I doubt that I could take on Draco in a duel and win, but I think I could hold him off long enough to have help arrive.

When you think about it, Anita would probably be a more valuable hostage than me. The Dark Lord could use her to get to her father. When you think of the kind of power and resources Daniel Schuler controls, that could tilt the war in the Dark Lord's favor.

I doubt Anita would even think to try and defend herself against Draco if he tried anything. American wizards and witches don't think much in terms of self-defense, given they haven't had any Dark Lords about since Grindelwald made his move in 1941. They are very complacent and take their security for granted. At least I have some sense of what it might mean for Draco to be the adult child of an important Death Eater. Anita really hasn't got a clue.

One of these days, Draco will be faced with some very difficult choices. I have no idea how that might turn out.

Now that you mention it, I suppose I really would really prefer to keep all of the melty feelings your smiles engender to myself. It is selfish, but I've never claimed to be totally altruistic.

You do know that some of the girls get crushes on you. It has something to do with how graceful you are when you walk. Or perhaps that would be more accurately described as sweeping your way down a hallway. Combine your long strides, broad shoulders, height, and your black teaching robes billowing as you walk and you make a very dramatic presence.

Oh yes, you are most memorable when you walk.

And then, there are your hands. I could watch you brew for hours. You have such beautiful hands with long fingers. So dexterous and precise in your movements. It isn't difficult to imagine how exacting and careful your touch might be.

I could lose myself in your eyes. They are such a dark brown, they are almost black. It is hard to tell where the pupil ends and the iris begins. Maybe that is why your eyes are so entrancing. Dilated pupils are a sign of arousal and it looks like your pupils are always dilated.

I should probably stop this. If you were in this room right now, I don't think I could live up to our agreement to keep our hands off each other.

No, I definitely could not keep my hands off of you.

After thinking this way, I have to go to class. I have no idea how I'm going to manage to keep my mind on the lecture. I'll be thinking about your lectures. Feel free to lecture me anytime.

I'm going to go take a cold shower.

Love,  
Hermione

---------------------------

**Ministry of Magic Memo  
**Encrypted for security, using an Arithmantic formula develop by Hashim Faisal in 1854

To: Beryl Hornswoggle  
Section Chief - Investigations  
Department of Magical Weights and Measures  
Ministry of Magic  
From:Jean Lamb  
Inspector  
Department of Magical Weights and Measures  
Ministry of Magic  
Date: April 21st, 1999  
Re: Inspection Report

I have done a review of reported disappearances of witches over the time period of March 1998 to March 1999. In a typical year, thirty-seven witches are reported missing to MLE. Usually, around half returns home within twenty-four hours. Others may disappear into the Muggle world or travel and are heard from at a later time. Two or three are found dead – whether by natural causes or foul play. Only three or four witches totally disappear and are never found.

In reviewing the disappearances, I have found the following cases that fall outside of the norm.

Name---------------------- Date------ Age----- Residence------- Occupation

1)Adelaide Barnstable-----15/3/98-----122------London----------Librarian  
2)Coriander Spittlesburn ---8/7/98------ 92------Cardiff---------- Seamstress  
3)Josette Colson--------- 19/10/98------18------Diagon Alley---- Shop assistant  
4)Fiona Figgleston--------- 6/1/99-------13------Knockturn Alley- None  
5)Scheherazade Timms---- 22/1/99-----114------Leeds----------- Librarian  
6)Mary O'Fallon-----------4/2/99-------22------Cork-------------Maid  
7)Kathleen Clancy----------7/3/99-------77------Dublin-----------Nun

Although these disappearances are scattered throughout the British Isles, these women do appear to have some things in common:

The women are all unmarried  
All have some Muggle ancestory within two generations  
None have parents who are known to be alive  
All are of low or moderate socio-economic status  
Subjects 1, 2, & 5 tended to be reclusive. Two are librarians in Muggle libraries.  
Subjects 3, 5, & 6 are orphans who were abandoned to their own resources.  
Subjects 1, 2, 3, 4, & 6 are daughters of unmarried mothers, fathers unknown.  
Subjects 3 & 6 had mothers who were reputed to be mistresses of wealthy men.  
Subjects 1, 2, 5, & 7 had careers in the Muggle world and limited contact with the wizarding world.

In other words, these women were unlikely to be missed for a period of time. With the exception of Sister Kathleen, none of the disappearances were reported to MLE until at least two weeks after the disappearance and in three cases, months after the disappearance. Likewise, with the exception of Sister Kathleen, none of the disappearances had received any mention in the Daily Prophet.

These may just be coincidences, but I have my doubts. One possibility is that we may have a serial killer at work. He is probably picking out witches who are unlikely to be missed. The age disparity makes it questionable that their selection is based on a sexual preference, but I will not pretend to be an authority on the psychology of such predators. I intend to make quiet inquiries and find out what I can. As usual, I will provide weekly updates on what I learn.

-----------------------------

To be continued….

-----------------------------

Author's notes

Thank you to my reviewers: Sunsethill, Hubba.O.bubba, Lucyferina, Ichigo, Katyes, Loveshouse, Saz, Squiggles.Candi, EnchantedWriter, MollysSister, Instar, Lilsnape, Arime Setta, Rinny08, Imbyrri, Dobbinff, Latinachikita, Erytha, Not so Chicken Little, Ebbe04, Ami Mizuno1, SlytherinTwinCC, StormMasters, Duj, Notwritten, Danielle, Broken2nite, Droxy, Evil-mastermind666, A Perfect Lie, Atrylinden, Trulyamused, Morbidmanda13, Sandstar08, Sarah and Lupin, Remus r us, Passing Time, Jocemum, Nutters4Potter, Koliber, MadamSnape78, Slvrnight, Nirtak.Enaile, Maddie50, Lilginny27, Rhonda, T wrecks, Darque Hart, Lyndie578, SweetiePie5445, Nottbook (who I wish would leave an e-mail address so I can respond), Jade2099, Docmara, Squeaker19450, Werforpsu, Severessa, Ami Metallium, and Lipasnape,.

We reached a milestone with the posting of Chapter 69 – Two thousand reviews! I am absolutely blown away by the wonderful response this story has received and thank each and every one of you who have taken the time to comment on _Looking for Magic_.


	71. Chapter 71

I don't own anything – just ask my bank.

This early posting would not have been possible without Julia finding time somewhere to go through this chapter. Originally, this was part of Chapter 70 and made it three times the size of the average chapter. It has been split in two and the second half posted early. Couldn't have happened without Julia!

----------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 21st, 1999  
Re:Contract negotiations

I must say, this Professor Franks is one sharp cookie. She negotiated right up to the 25 percent above our regular consultation contract. You don't think she'd be too ethical to use insider information about how these things usually work?

She and Professor Boch are already acquainted. He has agreed to assist her in the research about blocking the Voldemort Mark. Ultimately, we will have to find someone with a Voldemort Mark to test it on. Meanwhile, we have requested Ray Brekowicz at Havens Security set the wards to be triggered by the general class of bond slave marks. This will be a totally silent alarm that will alert us at central command. As always, we have the command center manned by at least one Special Security Agent along with the regular cadre of general security. Any of us can become Laketha at a moment's notice and be on the scene in an instant. Ray will ensure that the Digital Magic Security Department can get through the anti-apparition wards.

-------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
From:Anita Schuler; Charmed23 at a w l . com  
Date:April 21st, 1999  
Re:Thanks for the warning

You do realize that this means war. Not only are you not going to get Hermione for your team, I'm going to go after your team members.

I am going to open a great big can of WhoopAss on you, big brother.

------------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed 23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy9 at a w l . com  
Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l .com  
From:Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Date:April 21st, 1999  
Re:Team memberships

Let's not start this kind of silliness. Autumn term starts in September. This is April. What if we all get through this term before we start planning projects or teams for next school year?

We should all just play nice together and then merge both teams. There aren't any rules as to how many students can be on a team.

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Bill  
April 22nd, 1999

Bill,

It looks like the top floor of the apartment building will be ready for occupancy on May 1st. According to Draco, the company doing the warding is called Havens Security and their HQ is in Schaumburg, Illinois. The warding for the building is supposed to be done by then. If you are available that weekend, I would appreciate you coming for a visit to check it out.

I should warn you that Draco keeps asking me to talk you into a rematch of your duel since he was injured and unable to finish it when he was still at Hogwarts. Since you will certainly see him, he'll probably ask you.

If you are able to come, would you bring the box from up in the attic labeled "Hermione's kitchen stuff"? It has the kitchen set and some kitchen supplies from my parents that I'd like to use. It is certainly expensive outfitting an apartment, especially when Warren is playing interior decorator. He has rather expensive tastes.

Other than that, I don't have any news. Haven't heard a word from Laketha or Mr. Schuler.

Have fun with the NEWTs and OWLs reviews. Has anybody burst into tears, yet?

Hermione

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 22nd, 1999

Dear Hermione,

Write any more journal entries like the last one and I am going to find a way to climb straight through that journal and into your bed.

Yours,  
Severus

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
April 22nd, 1999

Dear Severus

That sort of thinking really is playing with fire, isn't it? I know we've made an agreement to limit our physical contact, but it is going to be a difficult promise to keep. Now that I'm well, I think the only thing that has kept my hands off you is the 3500 miles in between us.

This morning, if there had been a way to climb through the journals, I'd have locked the doors, cast noise reduction charms and welcomed you with open arms.

I don't quite know what to do about that.

Perhaps a change of subject is in order.

It looks like the top floor of Draco's apartment building will be ready on May 1st. Draco, Warren, Anita, and I went to look at furniture this afternoon. It is certainly expensive to outfit a place to live. I've asked Bill to bring some things I have in storage from my parents' house. I couldn't have done that a few months ago. Your confronting me at the cemetery has done me a world of good. The nightmares have gone away. I'm sleeping well and I have an appetite again. I don't have all of that stress and guilt the way I did before.

Thank you for that.

I shall try to behave myself in my journal entries. In some ways, it is so much easier to write these things than to say them.

Love,  
Hermione

--------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 22nd, 1999

Dear Hermione

Okay. I'll keep it to myself.

Is Snape sweet on you?

Love,  
Harry

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 22nd, 1999

Dear Harry,

Yes.

Please don't say anything to anyone, especially Professor Snape or to Ron. Remember, you said you love me no matter what and we'll still be friends. I'm holding you to that promise.

Love,  
Hermione

---------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 23rd, 1999  
Re:Initial meeting with Julia Franks

Professors Boch, Littlehorse and I met with Professor Franks today after her classes were finished. We discussed strategies for investigating the Voldemort Mark. According to Professor Franks, during the first Voldemort War, British Aurors attempted to analyze the Voldemort Mark by using direct and deep analytic spells on three captured Death Eaters. This resulted in a magical defense reaction that caused extreme pain in all cases, death in two, and brain damage in one.

After Voldemort disappeared in 1981, the Voldemort Marks faded to an inactive level. That is probably one of the reasons the government thought he was dead. Deep probes provided little information about the nature of the Marks. This has left us with a shortage of information that can be obtained directly from the Voldemort Mark.

Ms. Franks has worked with wizarding refugees from some third world countries who were bonded into slavery with local overlords. They also had physically damaging protection spells in place on their tattoed slave marks, according to their own report. Ms. Franks was able to do a deep analysis on their marks by establishing a magical resonance between a person with an active mark and a second person with an inactive, but known mark. Using the resonance, she was able to determine in which ways the two marks were similar and different without causing harm to the person with the active mark.

She believes this method could be used to analyze the Voldemort Mark. Professors Franks, Littlehorse, and Boch are of the opinion that the Voldemort Mark is derived from the Grindelwald Mark. Resonance could be safely established between a person with an active Voldemort Mark and a person with an inactive, but known Grindelwald Mark.

This would allow the probe to be conducted on the Grindelwald Mark. The resonance on the Grindelwald Mark will reveal aspects it has in common with the Voldemort Mark.

This system is not foolproof. If we are wrong and Voldemort has developed a new magical system for his Mark, the resonance could trigger a negative reaction in the Voldemort Mark when the deep analytic spells are applied.

We will need a subject an active Voldemort Mark to test this with. Obviously, this is a risk. It seems unlikely Dumbledore will risk his spy. We may want to see if there is a way one of the Death Eater prisoners from Azkaban could be accessed.

Professor Franks has been successful in neutralizing slave marks when she has the information she needs from the mark by using the resonance technique. She reports that to-date; she has released forty-seven wizards and witches from slave bonds. This information has been kept quiet. The overlords don't want their bond slaves to know that some of their cohorts have been able to escape and Franks feels the released slaves are safer if it isn't known.

If the resonance technique works, she feels confident she can neutralize a Voldemort Mark.

Part of our contractual agreement is to keep the resonance technique confidential. Professor Franks is strongly committed to the effort to eliminate slavery of any sort in the wizarding world. She is concerned that if the resonance technique became public knowledge, slavers would make changes in their bonding techniques to defeat it. If that were the case, one of the few tools that work against bond slave marks would be eliminated.

I asked if she would be agreeable to disclosing the technique to Albus Dumbledore in the hope of using his influence to get access to someone with an active Voldemort Mark. She said she needed to do some research on him before she would decide. We may need to arrange for her to meet with Professor Dumbledore. She said she would give me an answer in a few days.

---------------------------

**E-Mail Communication  
**

To:Anita Schuler; Charmed 23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy9 at a w l . com  
Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l .com  
From:Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Date:April 23rd, 1999  
Re:Hair Care Products

The hair care products are packaged, labeled, and ready to go. Unless anyone has any final changes to our report, I would say we are ready to submit. Professor Josepha Ben Ari is designated as the faculty member in charge of receiving and verifying projects. I have e-mailed her requesting an appointment this week for our team. We are required to submit it together so we can sign off that all of us are on the team and worked on the project.

Isn't it nice that we started working on this early and will be ready to submit our project before the other teams – some of which are still working on the final versions of their project.

Whatever we do next school year, it pays off to make a schedule and stick to it.

----------------------------

**E-mail Communication**

To:Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed 23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy9 at a w l . com  
From:Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l .com  
Date:April 23rd, 1999  
Re:Congratulations

Let's hear it for Hermione, the organization maven of the universe. I think if there was a planet of obsessively organized swots somewhere, you would be their Queen.

Or maybe I could be their Queen.

Hmmm. The possibilities are soooo intriguing.

We've got furniture being delivered tomorrow. Let's plan on being at the building by 9:00 am. We can help each other change wall colors, linoleum, and start on the window treatments. Cindy wants to have a party tomorrow night. I noticed some moldy fruit in the refrigerator in the dorm kitchen. I don't know who owned it, but they certainly won't want it now. We can bring it for Cindy.

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 23rd, 1999

Dear Hermione

The whole idea of you and Snape is a shock. I'll admit I have to set aside a whole lot of my past experiences with Professor Snape to even begin to get my head around it. I haven't said anything to anybody. That should come from you or him.

Wow. Hermione fancies Snape.  
Gulp. Snape fancies Hermione.

When I set aside everything else, I can kind of see how it could happen. You're both really smart. You both do potions. Neither of you are particularly social and would rather read a good book than go to a party. You both enjoy cooking. As you said, you both lost your parents in pretty nasty ways. I think that both of you may actually be kind of shy, though it is harder to tell with him.

It's the ways the two of you are different that worry me.

You are kind. He's sarcastic.  
You are nice. He's not.  
You take care of yourself. He goes around with greasy hair.  
You are good. He's a Death Eater.

Okay. I know he's Dumbledore's man inside the Death Eaters. But, he was a Death Eater.

I'm struggling with this, so help me to understand.

I still love you and I am your friend. Even if you confuse the hell out of me, but you are a girl and your species is kind of mysterious under the best of circumstances.

Harry

--------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 23rd, 1999

Dear Hermione,

I believe I understand what you mean about how much easier it is to write about feelings than to express them in person. It is less threatening, less of a risk. If I tell you I want you in a letter and you are revolted, I do not have to see your face. I can wait until you respond in a letter and the feedback is less immediate and dramatic.

The reality of our relationship is a distraction of a sort new to my experience.

Add two measures of alihotsy.  
Stir 30 times, counter clockwise.  
She loves me.

Watch Mr. Creevey's work to see if he has selected the correct crystal to add to the potion.  
When will I see Hermione?  
Yes, he selected the labradorite.

It is oddly disruptive to my normal patterns of thinking, but in a way I am coming to appreciate.

It does not change the fact that we must strive to keep an appropriate distance from each other as long as the Dark Lord has access to my thoughts. It is the greatest temptation of my life to do otherwise. There is a part of me that would like to steal you away and go into hiding. We would not, as they say, come up for air for quite a while.

Yet, as I think of the possibilities I must also discount them. As long as I have the Dark Mark on my arm, what I would choose to do is impossible.

Instead, we must focus on the future. We will pursue our weapon and the means to deliver it. We will fight that battle and pray that we are given the grace to win. Then we will both be free and our future will be what we make of it.

For this reason, I am glad you are not older than you are and that we did not begin this relationship years ago. To wait years would be unbearable. We have reason to hope that our delay can be counted in months. Our lives will be our own.

That is what we must hold onto. We can delay what we might want now so we can have it freely and openly later. Therefore, I shall restrain myself and I hope you will do so, too.

Yours,  
Severus

------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memo**

To: Minerva  
From: Severus  
Date:April 23rd, 1999  
Re: Thank you for the gift

Thank you for the lovely gift of the dead mice you left outside my door. I deeply appreciate the energy and effort you put in to catching them for me. Albus has commented that he misses receiving them from you. Please feel free to leave him one now and then so he does not feel ignored. You know how deeply sensitive he gets about such things.

-------------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 23rd, 1999

Dear Harry,

This isn't easy to explain.

It really comes down to seeing him as Severus rather than the image he presents to most people. I know it sounds like a cliché, but he's had a hard life. A lot of the face he presents to the world is to keep people away. He doesn't trust people. If he doesn't let them get close, they can't hurt him.

He's never told me what his childhood was like, but I can make a pretty good guess. You know about his father killing his mother. That alone was bad enough, but I think there was a lot of violence in that house before it reached that point. If you go back through the records of the murder at MLE, you'll find Madam. Snape's post mortem showed magically healed broken bones.

Confidentially, when I treated Severus for Cruciatus, I saw eight or nine round scars on his upper arms. At first, I thought they must have been chemical burns, but it didn't make sense they would only be on his upper arms. I did a search on the Internet to find out what kind of abuse scars would look like that. Cigarette burns look perfectly round when someone presses a lit cigarette into the skin. These burns are too large. They're from cigars. They're pale and white so he's had them a long time, probably from when he was a child.

The Dursleys were horrible to you. You were ignored, starved, and treated like you were something the dustmen forgot to take with the rest of the rubbish. All of the adults who were supposed to look out for you and take care of you didn't. They failed at that time and time again. Dumbledore put you in the position of taking on bloody quests that adult wizards wouldn't have tackled. Voldemort kept trying to kill you. You found you could count on Ron and me along with a few others like Ginny, Neville, Luna, and the twins. The Weasleys were the only adults you really trusted until Remus and Sirius came along. Then Remus left with Sirius and we know how that story ends.

Too much of your childhood taught you not to trust adults, not to count on them to be there when you needed them.

Severus learned the same kind of lesson, only not to trust anybody to be on his side. I think he trusts Professor McGonagall more than anybody else. We all know better than to completely trust Dumbledore. He's always got some kind of hidden agenda in everything he does.

Severus has learned to trust me. A lot of it is because of things we've talked about when we're alone. He's different one-to-one than when there is an audience around.

As for the attraction, we do have a lot in common. That's not all of it, though. I really admire him. He's got such courage doing what he does. He doesn't see it that way, being Slytherin and all. He views it as being pragmatic.

It is hard to explain why I am so drawn to him. Everything I write sounds like it barely scratches the surface and is totally inadequate to make my point. When you talk about why you love Ginny, you can say things like she's fun, warm, gentle and kind.

I can't say those kinds of things about Severus. He's deep, complicated, intense, and sarcastic. Somehow all of those things come together in a package that I find intriguing.

I hope some of this makes sense.

On a slight change of topic, I wrote to Ron and told him not to think that Bill and I are going to get together. I told him not to even imagine that he and I could ever get back together. I'm not the right girl for either of them and Ron needs to understand that. We made a big mistake during Sixth Year when we thought it could work out for us. If we hadn't been such good friends for a long time, it might have messed up our friendship. I won't make that mistake again.

Tomorrow, I'll be at the apartment building. We're getting furniture delivered and are going to be changing wall colors and such. It looks like May 1st is move-in day. I'm really looking forward to it. My own place. Wow.

We're really turning into grown-ups, aren't we? I'll have a lease, bills to pay, and everything.

Oh, dear. Now, I'm scared.

Good night,  
Hermione

--------------------------------

**Hogwarts Interoffice Memo**

To: Severus  
From: Minerva  
Date:April 24th, 1999  
Re: Gifts, lovely gifts

You are most certainly welcome.

It is interesting to become a member of another species now and then. It gives one such insight into their lives. My new found desire to bring you the mice I catch is a part of it. My inner cat has decided that you are family and is experiencing an irresistible impulse to feed you up.

As best I can describe it, my thoughts as I left the mouse outside your door were something along the lines of "I am a good provider. There shall be meat on the table tonight!"

I do hope you enjoy roast haunch of mouse. If you ask the house-elves, I am certain they will cook them up nicely for you. Not that you couldn't fix them yourself, but you are pressed for time.

---------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Avalon College

To:Meredith Reynolds  
Senior Residential Advisor  
St. Germaine Hall  
From:Gregory Romine  
Director of Student Housing  
Avalon College  
Date:April 24th, 1999

I've approved for the following students to move out of the dormitory early into community housing:

Hermione Granger  
Draco Malfoy  
Adam Schuler  
Anita Schuler  
Warren Stevens

This has been approved from the highest levels, but should be kept quiet. They may be keeping a lot of their things in their dorm rooms to make it look like they are still living in the dormitory. My understanding is that they may be moving into their new housing on May 1st. They won't be expected to completely move out of the dorm and turn in their keys until May 29th, like the rest of the students. Your discretion in this will be remembered.

----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Bill to Hermione  
April 24th, 1999

Hermione,

Everything is set for me to come for the weekend of May 1st. Minerva is going to take my patrols. I'll stop by the Burrow and pick up your kitchen gear. Is there anything else you need?

Dad and Mum are talking about coming to see your place. You might want to think about when you'd like that to be.

I'm looking forward to taking a break next weekend. Helping the students get ready for OWLs and NEWTS is really a lot of work. Only one of them has burst into tears so far. Apparently his older brother had Connor McCleary convinced that he had to deal with a real vampire during the OWL Defense Against the Dark Arts practical.

Kids. It didn't even occur to him that the test is conducted during daylight hours.

You might want to let Laketha know that I'll be in town and available to ferry any communiqués back to Hogwarts. Albus is putting together a packet for Schuler, so we'll need to see her anyway.

I think things are progressing with the weapon. Or at least there's a lot of experimenting going on. Severus and Minerva have been working a lot of evenings on combining the cocaine smoke and the fire bladder extract mist. I heard Minerva using language the other night that would have made a sailor blush. She makes quite a presentation with that upper class Scottish accent of hers.

How are you feeling?

Bill

-----------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Bill  
April 25th, 1999

Dear Bill

Thank you for coming next weekend. I'm really looking forward to seeing you and getting your take on the wards at the apartment building.

We spent all day there, yesterday. The Muggles have all moved out and the remodeling is underway. The top floor where Draco, Anita, Adam, Warren, and I are going to be living is all done. It all looks so fresh and clean. I really like the view from my apartment. It is at the back of the building and overlooks the yard. There are tall maple trees there with some lawn. Draco had a wooden privacy fence installed around it with warding to keep the familiars in. Crooks will be one happy cat with trees to climb again.

One of the best things is that I won't have those neon lights shining in my windows the way they do at Saint Germaine Hall.

We had furniture delivered in the morning and in the afternoon we went out to pick up other things that we needed. Warren has decided that he is in charge of making certain things go together and looks fashionable. I don't think I care all that much about being trendy. I want my apartment to be comfortable.

There really isn't anything else I need other than the box of kitchen goods. Thank you for offering.

When we were at the shopping mall yesterday afternoon, we stopped by a pet shop where Draco wanted to look at the ferrets. He's rather fond of a ferret one of the students has at the dorm and he's thinking about getting a pair of them as familiars. You might want to ask Minerva to tell you the story about Draco and the bouncing ferret….

That would be such fun if Arthur and Molly could come and visit Chicago. I was thinking that perhaps they could come for May 9th. It's Mothers Day in the United States. They hold it much later than we do, so it doesn't conflict with our Mothers Day. I could cook for them and do it up nicely as a bit of celebration for Molly.

For the most part, I'm feeling alright. I did get rather tired yesterday with all the magic of changing wall colors and moving furniture around. Going shopping in the afternoon was a lot of walking. I actually slept late this morning, which I don't usually do. This afternoon, I'm going to buckle down and get my studying done.

When you're here next weekend, you have to try the shampoo and hair conditioner my team developed for our interdisciplinary project. It's made my hair soft and shiny, which is no easy thing with my frizzy mop. I'd love to see what it does for your gorgeous red hair. We're going to be submitting it for judging this week and I think we should do well.

So, are you and Severus going to do a dueling obstacle course for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes? Oops, I mean the Music Appreciation classes. The students talked about it for weeks last year, especially when you and Severus took on Draco and Harry. I think I mentioned it before, but don't be surprised if Draco asks you for a rematch sometime.

I'm off to the library. Have a good week.

Hermione

-------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 25th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

Okay, I'm getting a better understanding about what is going on between you and Snape. I'm feeling like kind of an idiot, because I didn't realize what was happening a while ago. I think it was after Christmas that Ron and I had a conversation with him about you.

Sounds bizarre, doesn't it? He had just come back from a brutal broom trip to Calais that should have turned him into an icicle. I was making breakfast at headquarters and gave him the plate I had fixed for myself. I won't say that he was sweetness and light, but he was actually okay to talk to.

Ron and I kind of started talking about you. Ron commented how it seemed to help with your peace of mind when one of us could take you to the cemetery and wondered if you were going by yourself sometimes. That got Snape's attention. He seemed concerned about you. He didn't say much himself, but he really listened. I got the feeling he was thinking about what he could do to help you. I wonder if that's when he decided to confront you if he found out for certain that you were going to the cemetery alone and risking getting snatched by the Death Eaters.

At the time, I was pretty sure that he thought highly of you. I thought it was because of the way you had been helping him with the lab and potions. You had started working on the Crucio treatment. The two of you worked alone a lot. I could see where Snape would be very different when you're alone with him instead of when all of us heathens are around.

I can see why Snape would care about you. It's because you're you.

He'd be an idiot not to.

It's harder to see why you would care about Snape. I suppose it's for the same reason; because you're you. You see value in everyone and everything, especially the people and stuff that other people seem to think is deficient or unworthy, whether it's Neville, house-elves, Crookshanks, or Snape.

Don't misunderstand. You aren't a saint and you're a long way from perfect, but you really do try to understand people. Most of the rest of us just get by on our impressions. I've made some pretty spectacular errors by trusting my impressions of people.

My concern is that you see the best in people. Are you seeing a best in Snape or is he fooling you into thinking he's different than what he is? And then, I think that of the people I know, you have better judgment about who and what people really are than just about anyone.

You're better at it than Dumbledore and he's more than 150 years old. He's got a lot of prejudices when it comes to people he likes or cares about. Merlin knows, he's the one who hired Lockhart and let Quirrelmort and Barty Crouch, Jr. teach Defense against the Dark Arts.

Snape's got such a temper. I've gotten on the wrong side of it enough times to attest to it. I am concerned that he might use that temper on you. He's good at verbal evisceration. You said that there was violence in his home when he was a boy. Sometimes people treat others the way they were treated as kids. I hate to think of what I might be like if I hadn't got out of the Dursleys for ten months of the year after I turned eleven. I've got such a temper myself that if I hadn't learned other ways to deal with people from my friends; I wonder how I might have ended up.

If he learned how to treat women from the way he saw his father treat his mother, could that turn into a problem for you? That kind of thing happens all the time.

If he ever raised a hand or a wand to you, I'd have to kill him. But, you already knew that, didn't you?

Harry

-----------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 25th, 1999  
Re:Apartment building security

I have confirmed with our friends at Havens Security that the warding of Malfoy's apartment building has been completed. The building and the grounds should be well-secured.

The additional wards designed to recognize someone carrying a bond slave mark have been installed. Our security team will be running a test tonight to make sure the alert comes through to our office. Professor Franks referred us to two individuals who carry such marks. One person is a refugee with an active mark. The other person has an inactive mark. They have agreed to accept payment and be Obliviated so they will not remember participating in the test.

I will conduct the tests personally and confirm results with you tomorrow.

------------------------------

**Order Confirmation  
**The Gentle Herbalist  
Potions Supplies for the Discerning Brewer

To:Ms. Hermione Granger  
From:Ms. Lian Tsai  
Date:April 26th, 1999

This e-mail is to confirm your order for the following items. You may anticipate delivery to your address by May 5, 1999. Per your request, you will be placed on our mailing list for our monthly newsletter.

Order:

Asphodel powder -----------------------¼ pound  
Belladonna root -------------------------¼ pound  
Burdock powder ------------------------¼ pound  
Damiana ---------------------------------½ pound  
Dittany -----------------------------------½ pound  
Dong Quai root --------------------------½ pound  
Echinacea powder -----------------------½ pound  
Figwort ----------------------------------¼ pound  
Ginseng root -----------------------------¾ pound  
Goldenseal root powder -----------------½ pound  
Hawthorn berries ------------------------½ pound  
Lemon Balm powder --------------------½ pound  
Lobelia powder -------------------------½ pound  
Maca root -------------------------------1 pound  
Mandrake root powder -----------------½ pound  
Meadowsweet---------------------------½ pound  
Milk thistle seed (whole) ----------------¼ pound  
Motherwort herb powder ---------------½ pound  
Mugwort --------------------------------½ pound  
Osha root (whole) -----------------------¼ pound  
Pennyroyal ------------------------------½ pound  
Pipsissewa -------------------------------¼ pound  
Prickly ash bark (whole) -----------------½ pound  
Witchhazel leaf --------------------------½ pound  
Yohimbe bark powder ------------------¼ pound

1 Totally Secure Potions storage trunk (Model 24 A) in navy blue

1 case Potions Vials Assortment (Product #172)

All of our Totally Secure Potions storage trunks come with a one hundred year warrantee. Your potions will stay perfectly secure with the finest warding systems available anywhere and free upgrades for five years. Our bottomless spells will ensure you have room to store everything you need.

You have qualified for this month's free gift with an order over $500. You will receive our Stirrer Assortment B, which includes one tempered glass, one ash, and one stainless steel stirrer, with our compliments.

-----------------------------

**Ministry of Magic  
**Interoffice Memo Airplane

To:Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Auror Office  
Ministry of Magic  
From: Jean Lamb  
Department of Magical Weight and Measures  
Ministry of Magic  
Date:April 26th, 1999  
Re:Lunch

I'm pretty certain it's my turn to buy. What do you say to some kebabs at the park and some good conversation? Meet me at 11:45 am in the East Wing floo line? Reply only if you can't make it.

------------------------------

**Order Confirmation  
**The Potion Master's Apprentice  
When You Care Enough to Brew the Very Best

To:Hermione Granger  
From:Salimah Ntobo  
Date:April 26th, 1999

This e-mail is to confirm your order for the following items:

4 ounces -------Armadillo bile  
8 ounces -------Asphodel  
8 ounces -------Bicorn horn (powdered)  
8 ounces -------Billywig stings  
4 ounces -------Crocodile heart (dried)  
12 ounces ------Daedra skin  
8 ounces -------Dragon heartstring  
8 ounces -------Flobberworm mucus  
8 ounces -------Graveyard dust  
8 ounces -------Graphorn powder  
16 ounces ------Lacewings  
16 ounces ------Murtlap essence

(1) Never-Out Brand Cold Storage Trunk, Size Medium, White  
(1) Package of 5 Cold Storage Trunk Deodorizing Discs (free with purchase of a Never-Out Brand Cold Storage Trunk)

You should receive your order by May 7th, 1999

You will receive our complimentary monthly newsletter and a coupon good for $10.00 off on your next order. We thank you for choosing the Potion Master's Apprentice as your source for quality potions ingredients and supplies.

Watch for our next sales flyer out on May 1st. It's time for our annual May Madness Cauldron Sale! See our complete line of professional cauldrons at spectacular savings.

----------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 26th, 1999  
Re:Mark Research

Professors Franks has been conducting an in-depth analysis of the Grindelwald Mark using Professor Boch and three other test subjects. All of the subjects carry the mark from the Grindelwald Youth organization, which may be different than the mark carried by adults. There are two wizards incarcerated at Alcatraz Island in the wizarding prison who carry adult marks.

With your approval, I will take steps to arrange for Professor Franks to gain access to these two wizards. It is her opinion that conducting an analysis on their marks is necessary to prepare for an analysis of the Voldemort Mark.

-----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
April 26th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I wanted to let you know that Bill will be coming to Chicago on May 1st. He's going to bring some things I need for the apartment and help me with analyzing the warding. He promised to teach me some wards that aren't on the Hogwarts curriculum.

In keeping with our role play as a dating couple, he will be spending the night in my apartment. I bought a sofa for the living room that is especially amenable to being transfigured into a bed so he'd be comfortable. I will be staying in my bedroom. It won't be any different than if Ron or Harry came to spend the weekend.

I had a talk with Resurrection Cindy, our resident ghost at the apartment building. She has agreed to respect my privacy whenever Bill is around and not come visit unless specifically invited. That should help keep our cover.

It seems like a good opportunity to talk to Bill about my relationship with you. In his case, a face-to-face conversation feels like the right way to go. Hopefully, he'll be as positive as Minerva is about it. It will be nice to have a few people who know so we don't have to be quite so secretive.

Speaking of people who know, Harry has figured it out. We had a series of journal letters back and forth over the last two weeks. One thing led to another and he asked me if I was sweet on you.

It really was a rather cute way of asking.

Ahem. I suppose you're not into the cuteness of that particular moment.

I didn't lie to him. I admitted I was and that led to a question of whether or not you were sweet on me. I told him you were.

Perhaps those are not the words you would have chosen.

This led to a calm discussion of why such a thing could happen and why I consider this to be a Very Good Thing. He was surprisingly rational about the whole thing. He could see how it might happen. He promised to keep this to himself and not discuss it with anyone. I especially asked him not to tell Ron and not to talk to you about it.

If you wish to discuss it with him, that's up to you.

The only concern Harry brought up was your temper. He said that if you hurt me, he would kill you.

He might think about such a thing, but I have never worried that you would harm me. You might hurt my feelings, but you would never verbally or physically abuse me. I trust you implicitly.

Harry said that sometime after Christmas, he and Ron talked to you about what I might be doing at the cemetery. It makes me feel good that you were concerned enough about me then that you set aside your feelings about the two of them to have that discussion. I would probably have been mad about discussions going on behind my back, but if you hadn't taken the initiative I would probably be pretty dysfunctional by now. I wasn't following through on getting any kind of help and I would have fallen apart except for what you did.

Harry promised he won't talk to anyone. He'll keep that promise.

Since I will be moving into the apartment in a week, I've decided to do a bit of kitchen witchery. I have a list of healing potions that I want to make. Maiden brewed potions are so much more potent than standard ones. With the possibility of a conflict this summer, I want to prepare as much as I can. I've chosen some of the simple ones that can be brewed right in the kitchen. I'll bring them back with me the next time I come to England and store them at headquarters.

Bill says that Molly and Arthur want to come to visit me at my apartment. I will probably invite them for May 9th, which is America's Mothers Day. That means it will be the 15th before I can visit home and see you again. Term ends on May 28th, so I will be free to travel back and forth as often as we wish until July when my statistical analysis class begins.

I will do my very best to behave myself, but I crave your company.

Love,  
Hermione

--------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Margaret Schuler; Architect3 at a w l . com  
From:Adam Schuler; Compwiz27 at a w l . com  
Date: April 27th, 1999  
Re:Moving in

I'll be staying at the dorm until the end of term. I just don't have the time to put the apartment together and move in until then. There's too many tests and term papers between now and May 28th.

The only reason Anita has the time is Hermione organizing the heck out of all of them. Any other year, she'd be scrambling like the rest of us.

Of course, Anita and I will be home for Mother's Day. We're taking you and Dad out for brunch. We've already got reservations at the Ritz Carlton. Anita and I are paying. No arguments about that.

Except we will need our allowances.

My interdisciplinary team is turning in our small appliances project today. Wish me luck!

-------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To: Daniel Schuler; DigitalMage at a w l . com  
From:Margaret Schuler; Architect3 at a w l .com  
Date:April 27th, 1999  
Re:The kids

Anita is a definite to move into her apartment on May 1st. Adam doesn't plan to move in until after school is over.

Our daughter has always been the more independent of the two. With her own place, I suspect we won't see a lot of her at home this summer. Especially if Anita and Draco are virtually cohabitating.

You need to get over that, dear. If it was Adam, you wouldn't say two words about him having a live-in girlfriend, other than to give him a gross of condoms. Double standards won't hold up in the nineties. We need to be prepared to be modern parents of the new millennium. I made certain Anita knows three different contraceptive charms and has access to The Potion. I'd like to be a grandmother, but in the proper time and place.

I believe I like Draco. He's smart and can be absolutely charming when he wants, even if he is rather conceited. If I thought for a minute he was using Anita and was going to break her heart, I'd be talking to a hit wizard about making sure the body is never found. I know his situation is complicated, but Anita is very special. If he loves her, he won't become the kind of man his father is. Anita would never let him. She's taming him rather nicely.

Do hurry home tonight. The children are gone and Wilhelmina is going out to dinner with her cousins. You and I can have the house all to ourselves. I'll have the wine ready and some finger foods. We can unwind in the hot tub and you can give me a foot rub. You know what that always leads to….

-------------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 27th, 1999  
Re:Apartment building security follow-up

I am pleased to report that the test of the warding system at Mr. Malfoy's apartment building went very well. The subjects bearing active and inactive bonded slave marks triggered the alarms at our security office. They were paid, Obliviated, and returned no worse for wear.

The Security Department has leased an office in the building up the street from the apartment building. We will have some of our general security agents work out of there keeping an eye on the building and the street in general. Security cameras have been installed on the building across the street and on the apartment building behind Mr. Malfoy's building. Our agents are able to monitor the complete exterior of the building and the grounds. They can be on site within ten seconds of spotting anything of concern.

Everything will be in place so the students can begin staying overnight on May 1st. There is no reason for them to know of the agents' presence. We will be very discreet.

----------------------------

**E-Mail Communication**

To:Warren Stevens; NYLuvrboy6 at a w l .com  
Anita Schuler; Charmed 23 at a w l . com  
Draco Malfoy; Dragonboy12 at a w l . com  
From:Hermione Granger; HJGranger at a w l . com  
Date:April 28th, 1999  
Re:Training

Dear Minions

We are meeting tonight in the lobby at 5:30 pm sharp. From there, we will catch the 5:40 bus which will take us to the bus stop one block north of the apartment building in approximately nineteen minutes. From there, we will walk to Golden Chopsticks where we will pick up the order that I am phoning in (if you want anything other than your regular order, e-mail me or you are out of luck). With dignity and as much panache as we can muster, we will walk to the apartment building.

We will not apparate, portkey, or fly on brooms, hippogriffs or any other magical creature.

Please remember to wear Muggle friendly clothing and holster all wands.

This training session will help all of us learn how to blend in with our new environment. We need to be able to pass as Muggles. Especially some of us who are really, really blonde.

Whose apartment shall we christen by having dinner?

Don't forget to bring your notes from physics class. We've got a test tomorrow.

Sincerely,  
Hermione  
Queen of the Planet Geektron

--------------------------------------------

**Interoffice Memo  
**Encrypted, using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To:Keiko Takahashi  
Director of Security  
Digital Magic Corporation  
From:Daniel Schuler  
President and CEO  
Digital Magic Corporation  
Date:April 28th, 1999  
Re:Excellent

I was pleased to read your report about the warding at the apartment building and stationing some of our security agents nearby. We should expect to monitor the location 24 hours a day until I decide otherwise. Something significant will happen this summer and could put Granger and Malfoy at risk. I want our people ready to move on a moment's notice.

You are authorized to use my name to get access to the prisoners at Alcatraz. Fortunately, this is straight research and Professor Franks has an excellent reputation. Authorize a grant with a reasonable budget out of the Schuler Family Foundation. I am more than willing to sponsor a public anti-magical slavery campaign after our crisis is over. The position is beyond arguing and could get us the kind of PR we want.

Please let your people know that these projects have my personal attention and I appreciate their thoroughness.

---------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 28th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

The weapons committee will be meeting the next two evenings to work on our potion. We are having difficulties storing both the crack cocaine smoke and the fire bladder extract mist in the same container for delivery. I believe our solution lies in keying both so they will be issued at slightly different times – perhaps a few seconds apart.

We will also be testing dosages on the snakes. This means Potter will be present.

I am not entirely pleased that you have revealed our relationship to Potter. I do not doubt that he promised to keep it a secret, regardless of whether he approves or not. I doubt that he can hide his feelings about it when he is in my presence. He is one of the poorest actors I have ever encountered.

If he behaves, I shall behave. It is entirely dependent on him.

The next few evenings shall be late ones. If you do not hear from me it is because of that.

Severus

----------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Severus  
April 29th, 1999

Dear Severus

I can feel your anger coming right through the journal pages.

I hope that everything went well with the Weapons Committee's work last night.

I also hope that Harry behaved himself. Please judge him by what he actually does. He gave me his word that he would keep it confidential.

It would have been better if I had talked to you before Harry figured out we had a relationship. It happened in a way where Harry put an assortment of clues together and figured it out. I didn't tell him, he guessed. In this case, his guess was right and I didn't lie to him once he asked.

Could we have a simultaneous talk through our journals? Would you be free tomorrow night? I'll be available anytime you are.

Please? I want to resolve this.

Love,  
Hermione

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Harry  
April 29th, 1999

Dear Harry,

Please tell me everything went alright last night and that you and Severus didn't kill, dismember, or in any way harm each other.

Please get back to me right away. I'm worrying.

Hermione

-------------------------

**St. Mungo's Interoffice Memo**

To:Healer Aloysius Spence  
Maternity Unit  
From:Healer Ellen Smith  
Curse Reversal Unit  
Date:April 29th, 1999  
Re:Consultation

In February, I began treating a seven year old boy for curse-related headaches inflicted by a neighbour's child. We were making progress when the headaches returned with a vengeance. I did more diagnostics and determined that the boy has a cancerous brain tumor.

I brought in Healer Powell to consult. He and I are in agreement that the curse did not cause the brain tumor. It was there before the incident and was brought to our attention when removing the curse didn't eliminate the headaches.

We have tried the standard potions and charms. They have slowed the progression of the tumor, but have not eliminated it. We are running out of alternatives.

In the last six months, you have been able to access the services of a maiden brewer to obtain fertility potions we've not been able to prescribe for the last ten years. Our last hope for this child is to locate a maiden brewer to prepare two potions I have identified that might work on this tumor.

I understand that the maiden brewer wishes to keep her identity secret and that you are working through a third party. For the sake of this child, I ask for contact information for the go-between so that the maiden brewer can be approached about preparing these potions.

The child's time can be counted in mere weeks. I make this request with the greatest urgency and await your reply.

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Bill  
April 29th, 1999

Bill,

Were you there last night at the Weapons Committee meeting? Did everything go okay? Did everyone seem to be getting along?

I'm probably not making much sense. When you come to Chicago on Saturday, I'll explain everything.

Hermione

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Harry to Hermione  
April 29th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

It's okay. No one got hurt last night. In fact, Professor Snape was rather quiet and no more sarcastic than usual. We stuck to the business at hand and didn't have any conversation about anything personal.

I promise I won't start anything with Snape. It isn't in anybody's best interest to do that.

There's also the Hermione factor. You're happy. I may not understand why you feel the way you do, but you have a right to your feelings. After everything that's happened and all the misery you've been through, I'm not going to be the one who interferes with you being happy for a change.

Would it help if I did talk to Snape and tell him that? I'll give him my word that I won't spill the beans about your relationship.

Harry

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Bill to Hermione  
April 29th, 1999

Hermione

We did quite a lot of work last night. Severus was right about needing to have a time delay between releasing the cocaine smoke and the fire bladder mist. We're trying to work it down to the smallest delay possible that still leaves the potion working. Unfortunately, we did lose a few of the snakes before we got the dosages right. Until we do the runespoor test, we won't know how the combination affects magic.

Everyone was fine. Ellen, Remus, Harry, Minerva, and Severus were there. Everyone got along fine.

Obviously you're worried about something. Something about people getting along. Let's see. What are the possible combinations?

Ellen and Harry? No problems  
Remus and Minerva? No problems  
Severus and Ellen? No problems  
Me and anybody? No problems  
Harry and Severus? There's history there

I could see a "yes" to that one. You don't want to tell me until you see me in person? What wouldn't you want me to know? Hmm.

Harry and Severus are gay and involved?

I doubt that. I don't want to know how far Ginny and Harry have taken things because I might be required to do something big brotherly to Harry about that.

I don't think that Severus is gay. There aren't any rumors to that effect around the Order. Minerva would know and I think she'd have said something.

Besides, I've seen the way Severus looks at you when he doesn't think anyone else sees.

Aha. Harry has figured out about you and Severus and you're worried Harry's going to go apeshit.

Or, Severus found out that Harry knows about the two of you and you're worried Severus will go apeshit.

Or, Harry figured it out and Snape knows and Harry knows that so they both might go apeshit.

Which of the scenarios have I got right?

Bill

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Bill  
April 29th, 1999

Dear Bill,

The last one.

Obviously, you've figured it out.

Could you clue me in as to how many other people know? And how you figured it out?

Hermione

------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Bill to Hermione  
April 30th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

You have to understand that none of us knew for certain. We thought something might be going on with the two of you, but neither of you was being obvious about it. We agreed to keep out of it and give you a chance to work it out between yourselves.

Not that there weren't concerns. Severus can be cold, manipulative, and temperamental. You can be much too tolerant and forgiving. I was worried that he might take advantage of you, especially given the loss of your family.

My concerns were pretty much taken care of when I saw how Severus reacted when you were hurt. He tried so hard to keep that professional image of distance, like it was an intellectual exercise. It didn't work. He could barely get himself to leave the bedroom. Poppy threatened him to get him to take breaks and get out of the heat. He went to the lab and brewed enough potions to get the toxicity out of a nundu.

When you were awake, you would talk out of your head. When Ginny and I were keeping you warm, you kept talking as though your parents were there. You were upset and kept telling them you were sorry. Severus was sitting by the bed and I remember him saying something about forgiving you. I think he figured out that is what you needed to hear. You quieted after that and slept. When he was in the room, you were calmer.

I figured what the two of you had was genuine and good for both of you. When Albus pulled that harebrained scheme that is supposed to result in you and me discovering that we're soul mates, I had to do something to make sure that the two of you knew that I wasn't going to come in between you. That's why I emphasized how much I enjoy having another sister. I didn't want Severus to think I was going to interfere in your relationship.

As for the people who suspect that you and Severus have a thing going, that would be Dad and Mum, Remus, Minerva, Poppy, Tonks, and me. I didn't think that Harry or Ron had a clue, but I was wrong about Harry so I might be wrong about Ron. I don't think Albus knows.

I suspect you're going to tell Severus this. If you want, I can talk to him myself. Believe me, none of us felt absolutely certain about what was going on between the two of you but decided the two of you deserved a chance to work it out in private. Unless you or Severus confirms it in some way, no one is assuming they are right.

If you want to talk about it before you decide what to do, I'll be there at St. Germaine Hall at 9 am on Saturday.

Bill

------------------------

**Owl Message**

Inspector Jean Lamb  
Department of Magical Weights and Measurements  
Ministry of Magic  
London  
England

Professor Severus Snape  
Dungeons  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchery  
Hogsmeade District  
Scotland

Dear Professor Snape

According to my records, the scales used in Potions classes at Hogwarts are due for inspection and recalibration. I will be there on May 3rd at 4 pm to conduct my biannual visit.

--------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Severus to Hermione  
April 30th, 1999

Dear Hermione,

You need not worry that I hexed Potter. We behaved in a civilized manner and focused on the work before us.

I will plan to be at my journal at midnight here in Scotland, 6 pm in Chicago. You are right. Given we cannot talk face-to-face right now, this is our best alternative.

Severus

-------------------------

**Paired Journal Entry  
**Hermione to Bill  
April 30th, 1999

Dear Bill,

I am hovering somewhere between stunned and surprised. I had no idea other people suspected.

It wasn't until I was recovering from the accident that Severus and I acknowledged that our feelings were mutual. I thought we were very careful.

They are actually okay about Severus and me?

It will be good to see you tomorrow. Some things are easier to talk about in person.

Hermione

----------------------

**Paired Journal – Simultaneous Communication  
**Hermione to Severus  
May 1st, 1999

Severus?

_I am here. _

I know you're angry with me about acknowledging our relationship to Harry through the paired journals. I should have spoken to you about it first to get your input. I apologize for that.

_Your faith in your friend's willingness to hold a confidence exceeds mine. If Potter's Occlumency fails and the Dark Lord pushes his way back into his mind, my life would be forfeit. _

Professor Dumbledore took over Harry's training after he blew it with you. He did learn to Occlude his mind and the Dark Lord hasn't been able to penetrate ever since.

_Do you know if the Dark Lord has even tried? He may be saving that as a strategy for a critical moment, having already tipped his hand about his ability to send false images into Potter's head._

Harry won't let him in. He says that Dumbledore tested him with the strongest probes he could do and Harry kept him out. Harry was sick for two days after that final test, because Dumbledore conducted the Legilimens in the way the Dark Lord does, with absolute brutality.

_I know that is what Albus says. He told me about the planned test and asked for my input as to what techniques the Dark Lord was most likely to use based on my personal experience. I believe he intended to be brutal, but that sort of damaging viciousness is not in Albus' character. Even being under the pressure of teaching Potter to keep the Dark Lordt out of his mind seems unlikely to change Albus to that degree, even for one session. He is by nature a merciful man and the Headmaster would be risking giving Potter brain damage if his Occlumency failed. I cannot be certain that he truly tested Potter's barriers to the degree necessary to duplicate the Dark Lord's power._

_It is an enormous risk for me to trust other people and to rely on anyone but myself. What may seem a minor error or a misjudgment can easily put my cover at risk. The Dark Lord believes in dismembering first and asking questions later. I have seen no inclination on his part to apologize and reassemble the victim later if he is proven wrong. _

Do you regret trusting me?

_I regret nothing in our relationship. It has given me hope for the future I have not had before. _

_You must understand my need for secrecy about so many things. You tend to trust people until they prove you should not. I do not trust people until they demonstrate that I should. Even then, there are few people I trust completely._

_You would never knowingly betray me. I understand that, but you do not think in terms of plots, subplots, and multiple levels of hidden agendas. I have thought in those terms since the evening I was sorted into Slytherin. Do not misunderstand me. I am not suggesting you are in any way deficient. You thought to weave a web of lies and take Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest to give her over to the centaurs. Your plan took her out of Hogwarts on a permanent basis. _

_You have your moments when you are an excellent strategist, but you have not had to live with the subtleties of plotting moves twenty steps ahead of a goal years in the future. I will claim superior knowledge and experience in this._

_My experience of Potter has given me no reason to trust him. I left him alone with my pensieve in the room and have regretted it ever since._

What? Are you saying Harry got into your pensieve?

_Of course. I realize all of this happened at a time when you may have been less than fond of me. To this day, I would prefer that you and Ronald Weasley would never have known what Potter saw._

Severus, I don't know anything about this. I didn't know Harry did that and he has never said a word to me about what he saw.

_Never? He did not speak of a time when his father and his minions tormented me in a particularly humiliating manner? _

No. Harry used to have a really bad case of hero worship where his father was concerned. After he got to know Sirius and Remus well enough that they told him some of the things the Marauders did, that hero worship vanished. He thinks his father was a bully. Harry's been on the receiving end of that kind of treatment enough that he hates thinking his father was like that.

_I am uncertain what to think of this. That last Occlumency lesson ended when I threw Potter out of my office with my voice ringing in his ears and a jar of cockroaches aimed at his head. I had left my office to deal with Montague and found Potter examining my memories when I returned. If I had dared, my rage would have been sufficient to kill him on the spot._

_I expected him to return to Gryffindor Tower and reveal what he saw to you and Weasley for your amusement._

You have my word that he never breathed a word of any of this to us. All he said about the last lesson is that they were finished. He never really explained why. I always assumed he'd gotten on your last nerve and you ended them. I knew Harry wasn't putting much effort into them.

_No, he did not. _

_I am uncertain of what to think of this development. I believed Potter incapable of keeping a secret about something that might amuse his closest friends at my expense._

There was a time when he was like that. After everything that happened the year Voldemort was riding around in his head, Harry started to grow up and take responsibility for his actions. When Sirius died at the Ministry of Magic, Harry finally understood that his mistakes could cost other people more than he could stand.

Harry has given me his word that he won't say anything. I believe he will keep it.

_I will allow that actions speak louder than words and try to withhold further judgment until Potter does something to annoy me vastly, such as announcing our relationship to the entire cadre of Aurors at a morning roll-call meeting._

Thank you. You are a veritable saint.

_Hardly. If he says a word, I will demonstrate just how unsaintly I can be._

Before you plan out your revenge, you might want to know that Bill says there are others who have figured it out.

_Groan. _

_I never believed I would be writing that. Perhaps the correct version would be GOL – Groaning Out Loud._

_Tell me._

As we had discussed, I planned to tell Bill in person when he gets here. When I didn't hear from you, I wanted to make sure you and Harry hadn't done each other in. I didn't tell him outright, but he wrote back and told me he had already figured it out.

_How did he determine this?_

He said that a few people suspected, but after I was hurt they were pretty certain. He says that they all agreed to leave you and me alone to work it out.

_So, we have been a topic of discussion among members of the Order?_

Apparently. At least they've been subtle and haven't spread the word. I hadn't noticed anything until you pointed out that Remus more or less took Harry by the scruff of the neck to get him out of the lab.

_Who, then?_

Bill says that Minerva, Remus, Tonks, Poppy, Arthur, and Molly knew. He was confident that Albus didn't know.

_I suppose I should be grateful the Weasley twins are not on the list_.

Bite your tongue for saying such a thing.

_Why would I want to bite my tongue?_

Oh. It's a Muggle saying. It's like you're tempting fate by even suggesting such a thing.

_Ahhh. That one was not covered in Muggle Studies_.

You took Muggle Studies?

_No. However, when I decided to take chemistry classes at Uni it seemed a good idea to read all of the Muggle Studies textbooks in preparation. Once I started spending time in the Muggle world, I found the information inadequate and sometimes entirely wrong._ _Perhaps Pureblooded wizards should not be trying to write or teach about a world they have not experienced. _

I took Muggle studies for one year and found it full of inaccuracies. It was very frustrating to be a Third Year who knew more than the teacher did. If you think I was indulging in excessive hand waving in Potions, you should have seen me in Muggle Studies. I felt compelled to give a five minute rebuttal to half the material presented.

_No wonder the teacher left before the next year. Madame Hubert was probably terrified you would be in the Fourth Year class._

I only managed to take Muggle Studies because of the Time Turner I was allowed to have during Third Year. After being exhausted that year, I decided to stick with a more normal time schedule. Muggle Studies wasn't a priority.

_Not to change the subject, but we should decide how to respond to the people who suspect._

Bill says that they don't want to interfere. In a way, that's like being on our side. I haven't noticed any lack of assertiveness on the part of our friends on that list. If any of them strongly disapproved, they would have hauled you or me off to the side for a stern lecture.

_If there is reason to believe this news will not be met with a hostile reception, perhaps we should simply split the list. It would make the most sense for me to talk to Remus and Poppy. Under the circumstances, I would prefer that they know. It will make our lives a bit easier for those times when we can find a few moments alone. I refuse to have such a discussion with Nymphadora Tonks. She does not need to know anything to confirm her suspicions.. _

And I'll talk to Molly and Arthur. Since Bill already knows, I'll write to them.

_I will speak to Remus and Poppy at an opportune moment during the next week. We will emphasize to all of them that we have an agreement to keep our relationship a secret until such time as the war is over and we can pursue this safely. We must insist on their cooperation._

That shouldn't be an issue. If they kept this knowledge a secret from us, they will keep it from everyone else. I suspect we're dealing with a group of closet romantics. Or maybe not even in the closet. They will cooperate. I'll let you know what Molly and Arthur say.

_I will advise you when I have spoken to Remus and Poppy._

There is something else that Bill told me that I wanted to ask you about.

_What is it?_

He said that when I was injured, I was talking out of my head a lot. He said I kept talking to my parents.

_You still do not remember any of that, do you?_

No. I don't remember much of anything. I can't remember talking to my parents at all.

_I had hoped you would remember some of it on your own before discussing it with you. Anything I say about it might contaminate your impressions, if some memory were to return._

I don't think I'm going to remember it on my own. When people are very sick or badly injured, the mechanisms that transfer short-term memories into long-term memories don't work very well. Those memories may have been lost for good. Could you tell me what happened?

_You were talking to your mother and father as if they were in the room. At one point, you said that your mother was standing behind me and she told you to thank me for a potion I had given you._

Was I hallucinating or do you think they were really there?

_They were real to you, the only standard by which I can make any judgment. We were several hours into the ordeal and past the crisis point. You were distressed and said that your parents were leaving. You said "I'm sorry" several times. _

_If you were hallucinating, I fear I joined into the scenario in your mind and asked your parents to tell you that they forgive you. I took advantage of my knowledge that you craved their forgiveness. After that, you smiled, quieted and slept peacefully for a few hours._

_I cannot say if they were there. I felt nothing, but I am not particularly sensitive to such things. Your parents are spirits, not ghosts. If they were there, you are the only one who saw or heard them. _

Maybe that's why I haven't had any nightmares since then. After you confronted me at the cemetery, I had one nightmare in the two weeks before I returned to Hogwarts and had the potions accident. Since I've returned to Avalon, I'm sleeping normally for the first time in eighteen months. I have an appetite again. I'm not continually dwelling on what happened like I was before.

Is there some way you could use Legilimency to find any memory of it that is there in my subconscious?

_Given that you have no conscious level recollection of these events, I would not use Legilimency to probe for them. It would be dangerous to sift through memories in your deep subconscious that are far beyond conscious recollection._

_What are your instincts telling you about what happened?_

I think it was real. If I was that close to slipping through the veil myself, maybe they came through to be there when I needed them. If your mother could appear in the Mirror of S'Deen and forgive you, perhaps my parents really were there and forgave me.

That would certainly explain why I feel so much better. I decided to use the kitchen set from my parent's house in my apartment. A month ago, I wouldn't have even considered such a possibility. I've felt so much more at peace about the whole thing.

Quite honestly, I thought it was because of you. Even with the Weasleys and my friends, I felt alone and …. adrift? After you confronted me, I felt connected again. I didn't have to lie anymore. I mattered to you. It made all the difference in the world.

_I am unaccustomed to having such statements refer to me. When I make a difference, it is usually to the negative._

Oh no you don't, Severus Snape. No self-deprecation, dissimulation, or redirection allowed. You are important to me just the way you are and you have made my life better just by being a part of it. I'm telling you that I love you.

_I shall probably struggle with a lifetime of bad habits for a long time to come. Push people away before they have the chance to hurt you. Minimize your feelings and it will be less painful when the inevitable rejection comes._

It isn't inevitable. You just haven't had the chance to be with someone who loves you instead of using you.

_Perhaps, after I have written this one hundred times, I will find the courage to say it to you when we are next together._

_I love you, too. _

-------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers. It wasn't possible to get back to everyone because of getting this chapter ready to post. Please know that every review is appreciated. Alaksandra, Squiggles.Candie, Soul Chaser, Latinachikita, Keket Amunet, Arime Setta, Thetwinspartner-in-pranks, Erytha, Nirtak.Enaile, Sweety-Pie5445, Broken2Nite, Rasleigh, Annie, Nottbook, Duj, Koliber, Notwritten, Oscarxena, Kirien, MMADfan, Quiet-mg, Hubba-O-Bubba, Amsev, Lilsnape, Bluedecor, Droxy, Darque Hart, Andi-Scribbles, Jocemum, Kell, instar, Liz, Werforpsu, Angel-65, Lipasnape, Lilyginny, Lucyferina, Shiverrus, DeceptiveFates, Brotherchaos, Lyndie578, MollysSister, FarmerLiz, T wrecks, Phoenix's Feather, Squeaker19450, Sandstar08, Angie S, and Loveshouse


	72. Chapter 72

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thanik you to Julia for her critique of this chapter.

--------------------------  
Severus  
May 1st, 1999

Potter is hissing at the snake, which is weaving its head in his general direction within the aquarium.

The snake weaves a bit more and hisses back.

Potter straightens up and puts his hands on his hips as he turns towards me. Weasley picks up the screen lid and places it back on top of the aquarium.

Potter is chewing the inside of his cheek, an utterly annoying habit of indecision.

"I think the snake is stoned," he says.

"Excellent," I reply, with no small amount of triumph in my voice.

"How can you tell?" asks Weasley scratching his head.

"She's slurring her hisses and she can't answer a question in a straightforward way. She keeps saying she's happy-sleepy." Potter looks up at me. "Wouldn't you interpret that as stoned?"

"The next time I slur my words and declare that I am happy-sleepy, you may assume that I am stoned," I declare.

"I'd pay to see that one," mutters Weasley under his breath.

I am carefully framing a retort when my arm begins to burn.

"Damnation," I curse. "Of all the wretched times to be summoned."

Potter and Weasley look alarmed.

"The dosage we gave the snake will fade out in about four hours," I instruct Potter as I reach over for my robes. My Death Eater robes and mask are stored in the pocket. Removing the shrinking charm, I don my Death Eater garb, save the mask.

"You must monitor the snake's behavior and what it says," I order Potter. "Take special note if it indicates craving the feeling of _happy-sleepy_. Monitor very closely to see if it shows any signs of agitation or craving. When it reaches that point, give it another dose. Be certain to document your findings on the forms I have given you."

"I will, Professor," says Potter, pushing his spectacles back up his nose.

"Tell Lupin that I have been summoned," I call back to him as I pick up the silver mask and start running up the stairs.

"I will," shouts Potter after me. "Just be careful and come back in one piece."

My sentiments exactly.

I dash out the kitchen door and past the bushes in the yard. I am past the wards. Grasping my left forearm, I am pulled by the Mark to wherever the Dark Lord is at this moment.

The Dark Lord's summons has brought me to a place I have not been before. The manor house is surrounded by a carefully tended lawn and a high fence of stone and wrought iron. The path to the house is a long one and I am confident my approach is monitored by a watcher from the house. My belief is confirmed when I arrive at the door and am greeted by a house-elf who ushers me inside. Just beyond the door is a young man who finished his Hogwarts education ten years ago.

"Professor Snape," says Kyle Rutherford with a polite bow.

"Mr. Rutherford," I return.

"This way, sir," he says as he guides me through the house. Kyle Rutherford is a Death Eater, brought into the fold by his father. Young Rutherford is mannerly, unlike his father. Edmund Rutherford is a classic example of a Gryffindor gone bad. He is bold, brash, and decidedly unintelligent. Were it not for his inherited wealth, he would be a thug.

Now that I consider it, his money makes no difference. He is still a boor and thug. How he managed to escape the Wizengamot after the Dark Lord's first war is a mystery. Lucius and I have speculated that it involved large bribes, but then Lucius would be in a position to know, having used the same technique himself.

I attended Kyle Rutherford's initiation into the Circle of Death Eaters. He was one of the first to join after the Dark Lord returned. As I recall, he screamed quite dramatically. But then, we all do. It pleases the Dark Lord.

I am escorted into a large parlor. In spite of the warmth of the day, there is a roaring fire in the fireplace. Nagini is curled up in front of it, lounging comfortably. Edmund Rutherford is here, standing by a window as he peers through the heavy velvet drapes.

"Father," says young Rutherford, "Professor Snape is here."

"Severus," says Edmund, in a most jovial manner, "It is a pleasure to see you again." He greets me as if we are old friends, which we most certainly are not.

I tip my head in greeting and respond likewise. Fortunately, I am an actor of some skill. I have no more desire to socialize with Edmund Rutherford than I would with a Knockturn Alley low life. Rutherford dismisses his son and offers me a seat.

"Our Lord should be here shortly," he says as he pours himself a glass of wine from a decanter on the table. "May I offer you some refreshment?"

"Thank you, but no," I reply. "I shall wait for our Master."

Nagini lifts her head and her long forked tongue stretches out to taste the air. She turns her head towards the door. The Dark Lord enters, accompanied by Pettigrew. I stand respectfully, with my head bowed and wait for him to address me.

The Dark Lord settles into a throne-like carved wooden chair with burgundy velvet cushions. Pettigrew stands at his right hand.

"You may approach," instructs the Dark Lord as he holds out his hand in anticipation of my obeisance.

I step across the room and drop to one knee, placing my hand below his and dropping my head to kiss his ring. As I lift my head, the Dark Lord turns his hand and places it beneath my chin. I recognize this signal as he lifts my head so he can look into my eyes. I am now on both knees, kneeling before him.

I feel the invasion begin.

I am standing over a student, correcting his slicing techniques. Albus is lecturing me about the importance of applying the House Points system fairly to his Gryffindors. I am lying in a bed in the hospital wing as Poppy heals burns on my arm and leg from a Neville Longbottom cauldron explosion. Lily Evans in her student robes, taking my hand as we walk towards Astronomy Tower.

The invasion goes deeper.

I am standing over Potter in a rage. "PUSH ME OUT, POTTER!!!" I scream at him with such viciousness, I am spitting. I look down at Minerva and drop my head to kiss her. The goblet of Wolfsbane is in my hand as I walk to Lupin's office. I watch him drink it before I leave. Falling to my knees in front of Hagrid's hut, hoping he will find me before I bleed to death, because I can go no further.

The invasion goes deeper.

Walking towards the Great Hall, followed by James Potter and Sirius Black as they chant "Snivellus, Snivellus, sitting by the tree. Crying again for his dead Mummy." Sirius Black spitting on the ground at my feet in front of the greenhouse. His sing-song voice repeating those hated words; "Snivellus, Snivellus, where's your Pa? Gone straight to hell for murder, oh by God." "I'm sorry, Severus," says Lily, "I realized I love James and we're back together. We did have fun while it lasted, didn't we?" Amanda McKinnon, cringing on the floor at Lestrange's feet as she begs for her baby's life.

The bloody bastard withdraws from my mind.

I collapse on the floor at his feet, trembling with exhaustion and doing my best not to retch on his boots.

He did not find Hermione. I kept him away from Hermione.

Pettigrew kneels on the floor beside me and holds out a vial.

"Go ahead and take it, Snape," he says encouragingly. "It will help revive you."

I have no choice but to trust what he offers. If it is poison, it would be a relief. My head feels ready to explode. I would not be surprised if I were bleeding out of my ears. My hand shakes as I reach out for the potion. I pull myself up and drink it.

I am once again on my knees before the Dark Lord. I reach up and wipe the sweat off my forehead. The potion begins to work and I can feel the shaking subsiding. The throbbing in my head vanishes. A rush of energy pushes away the drained feeling I had from the Dark Lord's brutal probe.

"You may rise and take a seat," says the Dark Lord. "You may leave, Edmund," he says dismissively.

I rise as gracefully as I can manage. Were it not for the reviving power of the potion, I would not be able to get up off the floor. I make a small bow to the Dark Lord and sit down in the chair across from him. Pettigrew brings a glass of water, which I accept. I nod appreciation to him. Pettigrew bows to the Dark Lord and exits, closing the door behind him.

"I do not doubt that you are wondering why I probed so deeply," says the Dark Lord, steepling his fingers before his red eyes.

"It is not my place to question your reasons, Master," I reply. "You must be certain of your Death Eaters."

"I must, indeed," says the Dark Lord with a sigh. "However, in this case I was not probing you out of concern about your loyalty. I was looking for memories you may not consciously recall." He waves his hand at the glass of water. "Drink, Severus. A deep probe is debilitating and I need you refreshed that you might brew for me."

Ahhh, so he was checking my loyalty regardless of what he says.

I drain the glass of water and feel better for it.

"It is as I suspected," says the Dark Lord. "You have been denied the knowledge of the Order's maiden brewer."

I am frozen for an instant. I hope he mistakes it for being startled.

"Forgive me, Master," I say, sounding confused. "The Order does not have a maiden brewer. Surely, I would know if it were so."

"Dumbledore has hidden this information from you," replies the Dark Lord. "In spite of what he says, he does not trust you with certain pieces of critical information. He will not risk that you will tell me or that I will discover it through Occlumency. He does indeed have a maiden brewer."

"Who?" I ask, fearful of the reply.

"I don't know," he answers, frustrated. "That I why I probed you so deeply. I thought you might know something that you did not consciously realize." The red eyes blink. "In the autumn, Dumbledore's werewolf was ambushed by three of our Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley. Before he escaped, one of them pierced him with a poisoned dart. It was a silver infusion poison and should have killed him within twelve to eighteen hours of when he was pierced. As you are well aware, he is still alive."

"Forgive me, Master," I answer in alarmed humility. "I had no knowledge of this."

"Of course you didn't," he dismisses with a wave of his hand, "or you would have told me. I can only assume Dumbledore did not allow you to know this because it would have revealed that he has access to a maiden brewer. The reason I chose that poison is because the only known antidote must be partially maiden brewed. It is a complex potion and I believed it impossible for Dumbledore to find someone suitable to brew the maiden portion."

The Dark Lord raises his head and his red eyes glow.

"You will brew for me today, Severus," he says officiously. "We will talk while you brew." The Dark Lord rises and waves to me to follow him.

This is bizarre.

I follow him as he moves quickly down the hallway, his red and black robes billowing behind him.

Does the Dark Lord use the same billowing charm that I do?

"Rutherford. Pettigrew," calls out Voldemort.

In seconds, both sycophants are in the hallway bowing and scraping. The Dark Lord trips over Pettigrew.

"For Merlin's sake, Wormtail," he bellows, "Will you get out from under my feet?"

"Master, Master," grovels Pettigrew, scrambling to the side of the hallway.

"Lower the wards so we can apparate out," demands the Dark Lord, "and then go feed Nagini."

Pettigrew scrabbles to his feet, drawing sigils with his wand as he does.

Voldemort vanishes. I feel my Dark Mark burn and I am pulled after him.

-------------------------

The Dark Lord is watching me as I work. I am draining the blood from a freshly killed _vipera praedatorius cyanos magicus. _Hermione's research was correct. The heptagonal clover leaf was used to breed these snakes from New Zealand. Their blood is an essential ingredient in a potion to strengthen heart muscle and correct arrhythmias.

Among other problems, the fearsome bastard known as Lord Voldemort has a bad heart.

In the seven hours I have been in the Dark Lord's potions laboratory, I have brewed a potion to control his blood sugar, another to lower his blood pressure, and now I am brewing the heart strengthener.

Potter is supposed to have _the power the Dark Lord knows not_.

Ha!

It isn't Potter who is going to kill the Dark Lord. It is Potter's grandfather, Charles, who sent the right genetics down into his grandson, who spilled some of his blood into the Blood, Flesh, and Bone spell that created the Dark Lord's new body.

Potter's power is his DNA.

Harry Potter gave the Dark Lord diabetes. Gloriously uncontrolled diabetes with rampaging blood sugar, heart damage, potential for kidney damage, impotence, and possible vision impairments!

It could not have happened to a more deserving person. I am uncertain of how this will impact our plans to incarcerate the Dark Lord instead of killing him.

It also leads to the question of whether or not I should warn Potter to keep an eye on what he eats.

I am very nearly giddy with delight. Unless I am mistaken, the reviving potion I took after the Dark Lord's probe has stimulants in it. With all this non-stop brewing after that brutal mind probe, I should be exhausted. I daresay this will catch up with me later.

I have learned something else vital to the Order. Each potion I have brewed this day is altered from the traditional recipe. The Dark Lord has manipulated each to come to the numerological total of 7. He has used the numerological aspects of Arithmancy to customize each of them to his own unique reptilian physiology.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_ equals 79.  
7 plus 9 equals 16  
1 plus 6 equals 7

_I am Lord Voldemort_ equals 79  
7 plus 9 equals 16  
1 plus 6 equals 7

_I shall be immortal_ equals 70  
7 plus 0 equals 7

_Nagini's venom_ equals 61  
6 plus 1 equals 7

_Death Eaters_ equals 43  
4 plus 3 equals 7

Every potion has been adjusted by the volume of each ingredient in order to accommodate the addition of a small amount of Nagini's venom, which vibrates to the number 7. Each potion then requires the addition of a clear quartz crystal to the brew. Clear quartz can vibrate to any needed number and bring the total back to 7. A simple incantation and all of the Dark Lord's medicinal potions match the numerological total of his name and his most important goal and tools.

He is using Arithmancy to enhance his power by binding all of these things more closely to his true and adopted names. No wonder he does not want his name spoken in casual conversation by anyone and especially not by his Death Eaters. It dilutes the magical power of the names and he wishes to reserve that power to himself. _The Dark Lord_ has a numerological total of 8 and therefore does not diminish the magic he is building around the power of his names.

My reverie is broken as for the first time in an hour, the Dark Lord speaks.

"One of the cleverest things you have done for me was in helping Potter to become an utter failure in Occlumency," he says.

"It took little cleverness on my part, Master," I reply. "Potter has no talent for it and hated me enough that he made no effort to learn."

"You set the stage for him to hate you, which made him less likely to succeed," says the Dark Lord as he looks into the cauldron, which contains a bubbling thick green potion. "If Dumbledore had taught him personally, he might have learned what he needed to block my access to him. Instead, he took the bait and I lured him in. I could have had Potter on a platter, if Dumbledore hadn't showed up. Even with Lucius and the others' inability to deal with a gang of children, I could have had him."

"You chose the perfect bait when you convinced Potter that Sirius Black was in your hands." I want to change the direction of the conversation, if I can. "Potter was foolish enough to see value to Black that was never there. However, since that time Dumbledore has taught him personally," I reply. "Potter has acquired the skill."

"Only the skill," boasts the Dark Lord, "not the talent. If I put effort into it, I can push my way into his mind. It is to my advantage to allow him to believe he has learned to keep me out. There are two kinds of wizards who use Legilimency and Occlumency. There are those who only learn skills and those who have talent. Dumbledore and I have a natural talent that simply required training to bring out. We have fulfilled our potential through natural development and practice."

"When I taught you Legilimency and Occlumency," he continues, "I did not find a natural talent of the sort that could bring you to the level Dumbledore and I occupy. Still, you had the self-discipline and you learned. It has made you more valuable as an agent. By necessity, there are things I cannot allow you to know. A deep probe, such as the one I did earlier, would reveal your deepest secrets to the viewer. However, Dumbledore is too _kind _to look as deeply as is necessary. It is typical of the reasons he cannot win this war between us."

I hang my head in false disappointment. The Dark Lord does not know how much he has underestimated my abilities. I revealed some of my most painful memories, but kept my memories of Hermione safely behind the walls of my mental potions storeroom. He did not see the Order's secrets, nor did he learn the full prophecy.

"Dumbledore had you teach Potter first, because he believed both of you were at the skill level, but not the great talent level. It is difficult for those of us with great talent to teach those without. I struggled with it myself when I taught you."

Arrogant reptilian bastard. You do not know as much as you think you do.

The Dark Lord looks away for a moment and then speaks.

"Tell me what you know of maiden brewers, Severus."

"They are rare in modern times," I reply, grateful that he has brought up the subject. I want to know what he knows and why he is interested. I want to direct him away from anything that might implicate Hermione. "The original maiden brewers were nuns and priestesses of ancient pagan religions. They had the commitment, the skill, and the necessary degree of purity to create some of the most powerful healing potions known to wizardry. The commitment and purity are lacking in the last few generations of witches."

"Virgins are a rare commodity," comments the Dark Lord, "except among witches too young to do this sort of brewing."

"Exactly so, Master," I reply as I add the carefully measured blood to the heart strengthening potion. "Maiden brewed potions are usually complex and require levels of skill that are not typically found among the young." I lift my eyes from the potion as I set a stirring charm for one hundred and thirty stirs, widdershins. "I cannot imagine the kind of power an eighty or ninety year old nun could imbue into a potion. We have nothing like it anymore."

The Dark Lord is looking at me with an expression that could be described as amusement. It is difficult to say, because his features are so distorted.

"Would the use of the Imperius curse on such a nun result in a satisfactory potion?" he asks.

"I do not believe so," I reply. "If the nun does not have the skills, manual dexterity, or training, the use of the Imperius curse will not give them to her."

"I believe you are correct," says Voldemort. "Is there anyone among your students, past or present that you believe could produce a satisfactory maiden brewed potion?"

I pause as I measure the bugleweed, the next ingredient to be added to the potion.

"There are not many who have the talent and I cannot vouch for their level of purity," I reply. I think of a few of the women who might have had the talent, but are married and therefore ineligible. "Cassandra Bennett, Felicity Spurgeon, and Joanna Douglas would all be capable of producing that level of potion. However, I believe Bennett and Spurgeon have married. I am uncertain of Douglas. She should be close to finishing her apprenticeship.

"I doubt any of them are maiden brewers," I continue. "A maiden brewer could demand high prices for her potions. Dominique Boulanger is the last maiden brewer I know of. She made a fortune brewing for an apothecary in France, which supplied potions to hospitals all over Europe and Great Britain. She married about a dozen years ago and there have been no others since.

"There are bounties offered for referring a potential maiden brewer. If I thought any of my students had the capability and was eligible, I would have referred her and collected the bounty." I decide to take the chance. "Hermione Granger would have been perfect for that purpose. As a mudblood, she would not be aware of the value of a maiden brewer." I give an evil chuckle. "As a mudblood, she probably gave away her most valuable commodity cheaply."

Voldemort barks a laugh.

"Did you know that one of your esteemed colleagues is now enjoying her favors?" he remarks sarcastically.

"Really?"

The stirring charm has ended. I add the bugleweed and a piece of rose quartz and set it to stir for ten minutes as I adjust the flame below the cauldron to achieve a slow simmer.

"William Weasley seems to have taken over where his brother and Potter left off," remarks the Dark Lord in an off-hand manner.

I check the hawthorn berries I crushed earlier and set to drain in a strainer over a small bowl. There is not enough of the juice for the potion. I take more to crush and begin to work on them.

"I doubt it will last very long," I reply. "Weasley's last feminine companion was the French part-Veela who competed in the Tri Wizard Tournament. She is an extraordinary beauty. It seems to me unlikely that Weasley will settle for Granger whose looks are rather average."

"He may not have selected her for her looks," says the Dark Lord.

We both laugh in the manner of men enjoying a smutty joke.

"Doubtlessly, she acquired skills in her time with Potter and Weasley that hold a certain appeal." It rankles to speak of Hermione that way, but it is in her best interest to redirect the Dark Lord's interest away from her.

Sorting through the bowl of jiaogulan roots, I choose a likely candidate and begin chopping.

"Dumbledore has the services of a maiden brewer, Severus," says the Dark Lord. "There is no doubt of it. There is more evidence than just saving the werewolf."

I look up from my work and wait for the Dark Lord to finish.

"In the last few months," he continues, "a maiden brewer has begun supplying St. Mungo's with maiden brewed fertility potions. I have a Death Eater at St. Mungo's who has been trying to determine her identity. It appears that she is keeping her identity a secret by using Hogwarts' Mediwitch as a go-between."

Setting aside the knife, I do my best to look as if I am concentrating fiercely as I sort through memories.

"My access to the identities of the members of the Order of the Phoenix is limited to the ones you already know," I explain. "None of them could possibly be a maiden brewer. Nor do any of them have a daughter of age and skill to maiden brew. If there is a maiden brewer, it is not someone I have taught in my time at Hogwarts. At the same time, it makes no sense that an older maiden brewer would start selling her potions now. She could have made a fortune long before this."

"Is there someone who has completed her education at one of the European schools who could be the maiden brewer?" asks the Dark Lord.

"That is a possibility," I reply, returning to chopping the roots. "With your approval, I shall make discrete inquiries." .

"You may do so," says the Dark Lord.

The stirring charm is completed. I pour in the juice from the hawthorn berries and stir. Carefully measuring the chopped jiaogulan root, I add two measures and watch the potion turn a light blue green color. Once I complete the next step, I will probe to see if I can learn why the Dark Lord wants to find a maiden brewer.

"This will need to simmer for five more minutes." A bit of wand waving and the walnut stirrer does the work. "In half an hour, it will be ready for straining and bottling."

"Very good, Severus." The Dark Lord comes over and examines the contents of the cauldron. "I am very pleased with your work and that we have had an opportunity to talk."

I allow myself to look wistful.

"Today has been very like the times shortly after I joined the Death Eaters. There was more time to talk and you taught me so much. Now, we are all so busy and it is just not the same."

The Dark Lord looks thoughtful.

"You are absolutely right, son," he replies. "That time to sit and talk has been missing. Those were good times when we would sit in Lucius' library and talk of spells, hexes, and forbidden forms of magical knowledge. We took the time for fellowship and friendship." Voldemort nods to himself. "We must make time for that again. You have done well with the work you have performed for me today," he says.

"I am grateful to have your trust, my Lord," I say with a bow. "To have the opportunity to show my gratitude for all you have given me by brewing for your personal use is a great honor."

I must return to headquarters and get this intelligence to the Order.

I raise my head to see Voldemort's wand pointing in my face.

"_Obliviate._"

---------------------

"Severus."

I feel someone poking my arm.

"Wake up, Severus."

"Lucius?" I mumble.

I open my eyes. The room is blurry. I raise my head and see Lucius' blonde head. He is standing beside my chair.

"Fortunately for you," he says, "our Master is in a rather forgiving mood tonight. Falling asleep in his presence is not something he usually tolerates. He did say you were exhausted after your dueling practice."

"Dueling practice?" So groggy. "I don't remember…."

"Our Lord said he hit you pretty hard with that last round. You will probably remember after a good night's sleep."

I look around and see Rutherford and Pettigrew. They are talking to Bellatrix. Rudolphus and Rabastan are sitting on either side of the Dark Lord. He is demonstrating the wand movements for a spell. Young Rutherford is offering to refill wine glasses held by Dolohov and Avery.

The Dark Lord turns his head towards me and smiles. He rises from his chair. Since I have his attention, it is our protocol for me to rise. I struggle to stand. The Dark Lord gives one of his high pitched laughs and walks to my side. He places his hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back down in the chair.

"Do not try to stand, Severus," he says warmly. "I fear our dueling practice has left you utterly drained."

"Thank you, Master," I reply uncertainly. "I wish to demonstrate proper respect."

"You have," he replies almost jovially. "We spent the day talking and dueling. You were most respectful all day and did me a great service. Our conversation reminded me of how important it is to make time for fellowship with my followers. I must thank you for reminding me of my roots and how important it is for all of us to have the opportunity to simply spend time together."

The Dark Lord waves his arm to encompass everyone in the room. Even the rat is smiling.

"It was unfair of me to leave you too exhausted to participate in our conversation," he says. "I shall make it up to you next time."

"Thank you, Master," I say, still confused by this change.

The others are looking at me in amusement.

"At this moment, I think you would be best served by resting," says the Dark Lord.

"With your permission, my Lord," interrupts Lucius, "I will take Sleeping Beauty home."

"By all means," laughs the Dark Lord, patting me on the shoulder.

I cannot believe it. The Dark Lord is on one side, Lucius on the other. Between them, they help me to my feet.

I make an attempt at bowing.

"No, son," says the Dark Lord, almost affectionately. "You'll tip over and land on your face. Let Lucius take you home."

Lucius pulls my arm across his shoulders and puts one arm around my waist.

"Say goodnight, Severus," he says.

"Goodnight, Severus," I say, drowsy and compliant. I hear a chorus of goodnights and sweet dreams as Lucius helps me stumble down the hallway.

----------------------------

"I detect the remains of a reviving potion with some powerful stimulants in it," says Poppy. "No wonder he is exhausted now that it has worn off."

I open my eyes to see Poppy bending over me.

"How do you feel?" she asks.

I am in the room I usually stay in at headquarters. The bed is still enlarged from the time we treated Hermione for the after effects of the topical Crucio potion explosion. It can stay that way, as far as I am concerned. It is a reminder that she has slept here in my bed. I would like that on a regular basis.

I groan and attempt to sit up.

Poppy pushes me back down. "I don't think so," she says.

"You were in quite a state when you got here," says Albus, moving into my view from behind Poppy.

"I have the mother of all hangovers," I say, hoping they can understand my slurred words.

"You've had such a stew of potions in your system," says Poppy, "I am reluctant to give you any more. You'll have to settle for a charm." She moves her wand over me and chants. The throbbing in my head subsides to a more tolerable level. It does nothing for the nausea.

"Can you tell us what happened?" says Remus, moving into my line of sight.

I try to concentrate and find that my recent memories are hazy.

"I was summoned," I mumble, "to Rutherford's manor."

"Edmund Rutherford?" asks Remus.

"Yes. His boy was there." No, that is not quite correct. "Not a boy. Kyle is in his late twenties, now. He was initiated a few years ago."

"Was anyone else there?" asks Albus.

"Pettigrew and the Dark Lord," I reply, yawning. "The others must have come later."

"Which others?" Remus inquires.

"Lucius, Bella, Rudolphus, Rabastan, Dolohov, and Avery. I think that is all, but they arrived later. They were not there at first."

"Inner circle," comments Remus to Albus. "That's significant."

Albus sits down on the bed next to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Do you remember what you did when you first arrived, son?" he asks.

I am confused for a moment. "He called me that."

"Who called you what?" asks Albus, gently.

"The Dark Lord. He called me son."

Albus looks worried.

"He probably wanted you to feel relaxed and comfortable," says Albus. "Most people are afraid in his presence."

"Yes." That makes sense. "We dueled. He wanted to practice."

"Do you remember what hexes you practiced?" asks Albus.

It is all a muddle. I do not remember.

"He said we dueled."

Albus reaches over and brushes my hair back. He peers over his half moon spectacles as he examines my face and looks closely at my eyes.

"I believe it is possible he may have tampered with your memories," says Albus quietly. "May I have your permission to look?"

"The Dark Lord looked," I murmur drowsily. "It hurt. Pettigrew gave me a potion and water."

"I promise not to hurt you," says Albus reassuringly.

"All right." I wish he would let me sleep.

Albus leans over me and our eyes meet. I can feel him moving into my mind. It is not like the Dark Lord at all. Albus is warm and gentle. It is comforting and helping me to relax. I cannot close my eyes, but I feel like I am falling asleep.

Albus sends one more wave of peace and tranquility in through my eyes and breaks the contact. I want to sleep.

"Just a little longer, Severus," says Albus, his hand on my forehead. I open my eyes.

"There is evidence of a brutal Occlumency session," says Albus, "which I fully expected. There is also evidence of an Obliviate. You have had several hours of memories removed."

Poppy gasps and Remus looks concerned.

Albus smiles at me and clasps my hand.

"Fortunately, you are as hard-headed as ever. I see no signs of permanent damage. Some sleep will do you a world of good and then you and I can do a bit of repair work."

"He used Obliviate?" I ask, just to be sure.

"Yes," says Albus. "Fortunately or unfortunately, Tom has extraordinary skills when it comes to mind work of any sort. I believe the proper term would be surgical precision. He knew exactly what he wanted to remove and took it with great care. He would not wish to leave his Potions Master with brain damage."

"My clothes," I ask, picking at my sleeve. I am wearing one of my nightshirts. "I need my clothes."

"Not for sleeping, Severus," says Poppy. "You're going nowhere for a day or two."

"I put signals in my clothes," I explain urgently. "I need my clothes."

Remus turns around and picks up something from the chair. He hands a neatly folded pile of clothing to Albus.

"What do you mean?" asks Albus.

"The buttons on the left pocket."

Albus sorts through the pile and pulls out the trousers. He hunts for the left pocket and holds it out for me to look at. The middle button is unbuttoned.

"I must have brewed for him. The middle button means I brewed something for the Dark Lord."

"Good planning, Severus," says Albus. "Leave it to you to prepare signals to yourself in case something happens that you do not remember."

"I think we need to let him sleep," says Poppy, looking at Albus.

"By all means," says Albus, rising. "You just rest and I will see you tomorrow."

Poppy bends over me and pulls up the blankets. She is tucking me in and brushes my hair back from my face. That is rather nice.

"I would like to have Ellen take a look at you," she says, "Would that be all right?"

"Mmmmphhum," I reply.

"I'll take that as a yes," she says.

I roll over on my side and pull one of the pillows down so I am hugging it. Hermione slept here. I like thinking about that. She loves me. I wish she was sleeping here now so I could hold her like I am holding this pillow.

Snore.

----------------------

Author's notes

Only imaginary snakes have been killed or subjected to experimentation in this story. The magical species doesn't even exist.

As always, thank you for all the reviews: Alaksandra (of the multiples), Crystalclear, Jade2099, Nirtak.Enaile, MollysSister, Remus r us, Darque Hart, Nottbook, Oscarxena, Squiggles.Candi, Sunsethill (a few times over), Angel-65, Lyndie578, Amsev, Erytha, Lilsnape, Lilyginny27, Kirien, Lipasnape, T wrecks, Loveshouse, Latinachikita, Sweety-Pie5445, Quiet-mg, Starbridge, SlytherinTwinCC, Notwritten, Koliber, Duj, Nebrets, Zirateb, Rinny08, Jocemum, Broken2nite, Hubba.O.bubba, Andi-Scribbles, Nutters4Potter, Maddie50, Humblemaster, Oxon, Imbyrri, Karen, Ami Metallium, EvilMastermind666, MMADfan, Anonymous, Excessivelyperky, Teri, Ashley, and Em


	73. Chapter 73

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for her critique of this chapter.

Kudos for Katyes, who has translated 46 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German. Look for _Auf der Suche nach Magie_ at this website.

--------------------------------  
Hermione  
May 1st, 1999

"Got it," says Bill, shrinking the carton of books and putting them in his rucksack.

The Muggle world has companies that specialize in packing up possessions and moving them from one place to another. The process requires strong backs, two-wheeled trolleys, and large lorries.

The wizarding world could put them out of business in no time. Between packing charms, size and weight reduction charms, Bill's bottomless rucksack and my bottomless backpack, most of my things are packed and ready to go.

The only thing left on my list is retrieving Crookshanks. He's hiding somewhere on the sixth floor. I think he's realized that we're moving and he doesn't want to leave Thekla and Butterscotch.

"I've tried explaining to him that his two cat friends will be moving into the apartment building in the autumn when their witches return to college," I complain, "but, he never ever listens to what I tell him."

"Cats are notorious for that," teases Bill, his long red hair obscuring his face as he puts the last box of books in his rucksack. "Maybe you should ask Professor McGonagall to explain it to him."

I burst into laughter. "I can just picture that. I've never asked Minerva if she makes friends with the other cats at Hogwarts. She might miss Crookshanks. Perhaps they're overdue for a visit."

"You'll be back here tomorrow to pick up the rest of your things," says Bill, demonstrating mind-reading skills I didn't know he had. "You don't need to bring Crookshanks this trip. He's probably off playing with his buddies and he'll be fine for a day on his own."

"You're right," I reply. "Today will be busy enough without dealing with Crooks when he's mad. He'll just have to wait until tomorrow to climb the trees in the backyard. I can pick him up when you come back here to use the transportation room."

I'm already pulling out the box with Crook's litter box, water dish, food bowl and basket of cat toys. In a trice, they're back in place. Crooks can get in and out of the dorm room through the pet door, so the independent little monster will be fine until I come back tomorrow to clean out the rest of my things and undo the transfiguration of the furniture that I did when I moved in.

I do a quick look around. I think I have everything I need today.

"Shall we see if the others are ready?" asks Bill.

I nod in response, bending down to pick up the backpack. He holds the door open as I sling the backpack over my shoulders. I hear a noise and Anita's door opens. Draco walks out carrying a satchel and Anita has an enormous tote bag. Her reduction spells aren't as good as Draco's and mine. Unless Draco helped her, I'll bet Anita doesn't have half of what Draco and I were able to pack.

Draco sees Bill behind me and positively lights up.

"Good morning!" calls out Draco, enthusiastically. "Isn't this a great day for moving?"

I'm amazed he didn't say it was a great day for dueling.

"Shhh!" hushes Anita. "We're not supposed to advertise what we're up to. The entire sixth floor could have heard you."

"Well, they didn't," calls Warren as he strolls up the hall wearing his Gucci's Wizarding Garments Division bottomless backpack "But, I certainly did."

That's our Warren, a veritable slave to fashion. Once again, Warren is looking at Bill like Crookshanks looks a dish of tuna. It really is a shame Ron isn't gay. He looks so much like Bill; Warren would just eat him up. Then Ron wouldn't whine so much about how hard it is to meet a nice girl.

I fake a coughing fit to cover up the case of giggles that are trying really hard to burst out.

Everyone is looking at me.

"Sorry. I got some dust in my throat," I explain. "Packing books, you know. Dusting charms never really do a good enough job with books."

I can't explain to them why things are funny to me. I'm usually so serious and here I am fighting off laughing at things going on in my own head.

Draco and Anita exchange a meaningful glance after looking at Bill and me. Warren rolls his eyes.

We're heading off to catch the bus that will take us to the stop a block from the apartment house. We can't apparate or portkey there until the transportation room is built on the first floor. We'll be traveling like Muggles until then.

Our practice session of integrating into Muggle public transportation during the week didn't go all that well. Anita and I didn't have any problems passing for Muggles and using the public bus. Warren did all right, but he was in one of his moods where he was acting Flamboyantly Gay and attracted more attention than he should have. On the other hand, given the way Draco was behaving, it did distract the Muggles from watching him scowl at anyone who came near. It reminded me of Severus on one of his crankier days.

Draco has loosened up since he left Hogwarts, but there are times when he turns into Pureblood Draco. The bus trip was one of them.

If the bus had been practically empty, it wouldn't have been a problem. Unfortunately, it was about two thirds full of Muggles. Draco was uncomfortable and pulled his Lucius Malfoy imitation. There weren't any seats available so Draco could sit next to Anita. She sat down and he stood next to her the whole trip, holding onto the handrail and hovering over her protectively.

Granted, Draco's hair isn't as long, he wasn't wearing robes and didn't have the snake-headed cane, but he watched over Anita with a supercilious expression borrowed directly from Dear Old Dad's face. When two Muggle teenagers with tattoos, shaved heads, nose rings, and bad attitudes pushed him as they went past him, he gave them as sneer that anybody in the wizarding world would have recognized as a signal preceding a really nasty hexing.

Anita distracted him by grabbing his bum.

It worked to keep him from getting out his wand and leaving the two teenagers with permanent magical scarring followed by Obliviates from the American Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but from his facial expression it obviously upset him that Anita touched him that way in front of Muggles.

This was followed by a Muggle couple getting into a noisy argument on the bus. They argued quietly for a while, but it escalated to the point where the girl got up and stormed to the front of the bus as it slowed down at the stop preceding ours. As she stepped down the stairs, she turned back towards her boyfriend, extended her hand with her middle finger pointing up and screeched at him.

"You bitch," she yelled, waving her finger in the air, "You absolute fucking bitch. You're not man enough to be a bastard!"

Warren and I, who were sitting one seat apart, exchanged a look and had all we could do not to crack up. Personally, I thought it was a very effective line. Warren seemed to think so, too.

Then I looked at Draco. He looked as if one of the chimpanzees at the zoo had just lobbed a fistful of dung at him.

Sometimes, I let myself forget where Draco comes from and what high ranking Pureblood society is like. He treats me well, now. We're away from home and there are no witnesses who will judge him if he treats a Muggleborn like a witch who is entitled to be one. I think that in Draco's mind, I'm simply Hermione. He doesn't think of me as the mudblood swot from Gryffindor anymore. I'm just me.

It's different when you put Draco in a place where there are a lot of Muggles. The cultural differences become screamingly obvious. He can't see them as anything but a lesser life form when they're in a group. It might be different if he is given enough time to interact one-to-one. I cannot imagine the circumstances that would bring Draco into enough regular contact with a Muggle that it might engender a friendship or at least a friendly acquaintance. It could do him a world of good.

The time he's spent with Wilhelmina has helped him get past some of his prejudice against house-elves. He treats her politely.

We are all a product of our upbringing and Draco's prejudices are part of that. I have to believe he can grow beyond it, given the chance.

Once we got into the apartment building, Draco and Anita had a blazing row.

Warren and I went to his apartment to give them some space to argue in private. He showed me his closet organizer system. He is going to have all of his clothes sorted by type, color, and style. He showed me how jumpers should always be folded instead of hung on a hanger so they won't get bumps on the shoulders. He has a special rack just for his shoes.

I told him about getting the sets of black slacks and waistcoats with tops in different colors. I think he understood that I got them so I wouldn't ruin my other clothes when I'm working on potions, but he was rather appalled by the idea. He did offer to help me get a closet organizer like his. It should be very practical. I suspect Warren would like to help me organize my bureau, too. I'm not about to let him into my underwear drawer. We aren't the same size, so he couldn't borrow anything without having to transfigure the size. It still isn't any of his business.

We could still hear Anita and Draco fighting two doors down. Apparently they were too caught up in their argument to invoke the privacy wards. Even Cindy decided to stay out of it and joined us in Warren's apartment. The muffled noises of the argument continued as Warren point out of features of his living room, particularly his choice of black and gray as primary colors and red as the accent.

Cindy was particularly interested in the television set and video recorder. The stereo system made her squeal with delight when Warren pulled out an audiocassette tape he'd purchased especially for her. It was a collection of 1920's music. He turned it on loud enough that we couldn't hear Anita and Draco anymore.

Cindy clasped her hands and sighed as she listened to Helen Kane singing in a horrid imitation of a little girl's voice; "I want to be loved by you, just you and nobody else but you". That atrocity was followed by "I taut I taw a puddy tat" in that same voice.

Crookshanks would be mortally offended. I very nearly was.

On the other hand, Cindy and Warren proceeded to do a dance they called the Lindy Hop. Which was pretty athletic and both seemed to be good at, other than I think it was supposed to be a partner's dance. Cindy is just too cold to dance with that way. How Muggles ever started the story that Resurrection Mary used to show up at the O'Henry Ballroom and dance all night with young men is a real mystery to me.

In between songs, Warren and I realized the shouting down the hallway had stopped. We exchanged a look, realizing that the making up portion of the evening was happening down the hall. Having a pretty good idea of what constituted making up, I blushed and decided to unpack the food we'd picked up at Golden Chopsticks so Warren and I could eat.

Anita and Draco were on their own.

They did eventually come up for air. Warren and I were well into our physics assignment before the two of them strolled in for dinner holding hands.

Neither of them announced what the fight was about or what resolution they came to. We all settled in to finish dinner and studying for physics class.

I wonder if Anita reminded Draco that she has Muggle ancestry not too far back in her own family and that she moves between the wizarding and Muggle worlds on a regular basis. Her family has made an unimaginable fortune and accumulated enormous power by bridging the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

Besides, she doesn't like it when he acts like a stuffed shirt. I can't wait until they reach the _meet the parents_ stage and she lays eyes on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy for the first time. It's a shame there's no way I could be there to see that one. It makes me wish I were an animagus and could turn into a fly that could sit on a wall and watch.

Then again, that is too Rita Skeeter like for comfort.

I dearly hope today goes better on the bus than last time. Anita probably bullied Draco into agreeing to use the bus and not take her car or rent one for the move. She's determined that Draco is going to learn how to blend in without having to resort to a Disillusionment or Notice-Me-Not charm. That will require a whole different set of skills than anything we learned at Hogwarts.

Today, we present an image we hope will make us unnoticeable by the Muggles we will inevitably encounter. Except that Bill is very good looking, tall, and has thick red hair that falls to his shoulders. Warren is even taller, is wearing tight black jeans that emphasize his bum and just the barest hint of mascara. Anita has on a pair of designer jeans and top that her parents gave her for Christmas that match the ones Winona Ryder wore on the cover of _Allure_ magazine. Of course, a guy with white blonde hair and gray eyes who looks like a male model won't attract any attention. I'm probably the least noticeable person in the group with my bushy hair, Levi jeans and a matching jacket.

At least we won't look quite as unusual as we would if Hagrid and Fluffy were walking with us.

-------------------------

This is wonderful. We're sitting elbow to elbow around Draco's kitchen table eating a breakfast every bit as good as anything Hogwarts has ever served.

Wilhelmina is a very good cook. She even made grilled tomatoes for Draco, Bill, and me. You just cannot find grilled tomatoes on a breakfast menu here in the colonies.

This was Anita's treat this morning; a celebration of our new home. She recruited Wilhelmina to fix our breakfast. We walked into the building and the heavenly scent of baking bread lured us up the stairs to the top floor like a siren's call. None of us felt at all like resisting.

Cindy joined us in the hallway, chattering happily now that her building has real live wizards to live in it. The fringe on her flapper's dress and the long feather attached to the band in her hair fluttered as she bobbed about in excitement. She made sure to tell each of us that she was available for advice and problem solving whenever we needed it and then went off to patrol the halls.

Ever since Draco told Cindy about the Hogwarts ghosts, she's been determined to do everything the way they do. In a five story apartment building with thirty apartments, there aren't that many hallways. It is certainly not on the scale of Hogwarts. I don't know how she'll keep herself busy.

Wilhelmina greeted us at the door to Anita's apartment where she got a quick hug and thanks from her charge. In short order, Wilhelmina was ordering all of us to stay out of the kitchen and find a place to eat. Since Draco had an actual table and chairs in his kitchen, we decided to use his.

Bill is right next to me with his arm draped across the back of my chair. It's a nice gesture and communicates a certain possessiveness. Besides, we're so crowded together he hasn't got anywhere to go with his shoulders. At least he's sitting in between me and Anita. It would be far worse if he were sitting next to Warren.

On so many levels. Snerk.

"I know you aren't comfortable with taking the bus," says Warren to Draco. "You're accustomed to living in a totally wizarding world and rarely had contact with Muggles in England. It is totally different here in the U.S. There's Muggles everywhere and you can't really avoid them. Not in a big city like Chicago."

"It isn't necessary to take a bus," replies Draco, taking another piece of toast and slathering it with marmalade. "I'll be buying a car soon and I can drive to the campus."

"And park where?" remarks Anita, with a quizzing look. "You'd spend a fortune to rent a parking space in a lot within walking distance of the campus."

"It's only money," answers Draco nonchalantly.

"It's only money being spent to avoid being part of the society you happen to be in the middle of," says Anita, reaching over and taking the toast out of Draco's hand. "It's different here. You own the apartment building and can make it a haven for wizards. Once you step outside the doors, there's Muggles everywhere."

Draco is looking at Anita who has just taken a huge bite of his toast and now has marmalade on her upper lip.

"My grandparents were Muggles," says Anita in an almost whisper. She puts down the toast and takes Draco's hand. "My Grandpa died when I was little, but Grandma lived until I was seventeen.

"She taught second grade. I sat on her lap and she taught me how to read. She helped me with arithmetic so I could finally understand borrowing. She showed me how to tie my shoes and put my hair in a ponytail with a ribbon when I wore a pink dress. She hugged me when I scraped my knee and gave me apples and oatmeal cookies and Kool-aid because those were magical cures in the world of Grandma. She loved me and taught me to be a good person. Grandma is one of the reasons I'm worth while and not a spoiled rotten billionaire's kid.

"It didn't matter to her whether I was magical or not. All real Grandmas think their grandchildren are magical. She loved me and she helped raise me. She was real, Draco. Just like Aunt Beatrice is to you.

"My Uncle Al is my mother's youngest brother. He's not magical, but he's very talented at carpentry. His daughter, Nancy, and I are the same age. When we were nine, Uncle Al made doll houses for us that have doors that open and close, windows with glass in them, and lights that work off of batteries. We got them for Christmas. They aren't magical, but they were magic to us. Nancy and I played together for hours with our Barbie dolls in those houses and had sleepovers at each other's homes. We've still got our doll houses and hope one day we'll have daughters we can give them to.

"She's going to Notre Dame, now. She called me last night and told me she's in love with the guy she's seeing and she's thinking of changing her major to marine biology. She's real, Draco.

"Just like all of those Muggles on the bus. They have families and problems, times when life is great and times when it sucks. For each and every one of them, there's someone somewhere who loves them. Even those two boys with tattoos and eyebrow piercings and the girl who told her boyfriend he was a bitch.

"We have that in common, wizards and Muggles alike. We're human first, the other things second. Whoever is more powerful or talented isn't the most important thing after work and school are finished for the day. That's why we have to take the bus and go to the grocery store and do all of those Muggle things. Its part of being human and understanding the lives of the people who don't have the privileges of apparition or house-elves. It's part of fitting in and respecting who they are. They outnumber us thousands to one and we have to pay attention to that.

"Because of my grandparents, they are part of who I am." Anita turns her head and nods towards me. "Because of her parents, they are part of who Hermione is." She looks at Warren. "Warren's brother-in-law is a Muggle. That's how things are. That's who we are."

Anita falls silent and keeps looking into Draco's eyes and holding his hand. Draco reaches over with the table with his napkin and wipes away that bit of marmalade on Anita's lip.

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding to Anita. "I won't get the Hummer. I'll learn to take the bus. I'll get a Jeep instead, though I won't take it to campus." Draco squeezes Anita's hand. I think he'd kiss her if he didn't have three other people watching. He takes a quick look around the table. "Do I really have to go to the grocery store?"

Anita gives him a big smile that just lights up her whole face.

"Only when you want to pick out the pears and grapes yourself," she says happily.

The two of them are finishing the breakfast the rest of us are already done with. Bill's hand on my shoulder gives a reassuring squeeze.

------------------------

I look around the kitchen with a satisfied feeling. Mum and Dad's kitchen set fits better since Bill reduced the size of the table by one third. The oak is a bit formal for this small kitchen, but it still works.

The round pedestal table and four matching chairs were Mum and Dad's. It feels okay to use them and I know they'd want me to. I can remember the meals we had around it, laughing and talking. The reminder is sad, but it isn't painful the way it would have been a few months ago.

Mum and Dad were with me when I was sick. I've shed a few happy tears since Severus told me about it. Even if I never remember seeing and talking to them, I know they're nearby.

It makes me feel good to think I'll have a chance to add more memories to it with my friends. Someday, Severus will have breakfast at this table. Followed by dinner. And dessert.

I look at the pedestal. No. Maybe not dessert. The table might tip over. We'll figure out other places to do dessert.

Bill is looking at me with a teasing grin. I do hope my train of thought hasn't been obvious.

"Do you think we're done in here?" he asks.

"I think so," I reply. "I've got the basics here, so I can cook a meal if I want. All I have to do is get to the grocery store sometime this week."

"Maybe Draco would like to go with you," he observes whimsically.

We both get a chuckle out of that one.

"What would you say to taking a break and having a glass of wine?" I offer as I reach into one of the cupboards and take out two wine glasses and a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir that came from my parents' collection. It is rather aggravating that in the United States, I won't be able to legally buy wine for another year and a half.

"Allow me," says Bill, taking the bottle from me. In moments, the cork is magicked out and we have our wine. Taking our glasses into the living room, we settle onto the sofa and enjoy the view of the tree branches outside of the window.

My living room and apartment are decorated differently than the others. Draco, Anita, and Warren all went for a very modern and sleek look with strong colors. The boys chose leather. It must be a guy thing.

I chose all of the furniture for comfort. The sofa and chairs aren't quite overstuffed, simply because the apartment is too small and they would overcrowd the room. Still, they are well-cushioned and cozy. I chose oak for the living room, bedroom, office and kitchen because the light wood is warm and friendly. The fabrics are in shades of blue and cream. I chose a soft blue for all of the walls and area rugs with patterns of blue, mauve, and sage on the hardwood floors. There's continuity and a smooth flow of color, wood, and textures from each room to the next.

My apartment is homey, comfortable, and relaxed. I want it to be a haven, since it will be my home as long as I am at Avalon.

"I'll confess I don't know Malfoy well," says Bill, setting down his glass and giving the wine an appreciative look. "My impressions of him are from the eight months I taught him during your Seventh Year at Hogwarts. He seemed more a spoiled Pureblooded high society Death Eater trainee type more than anything else."

"He's still spoiled," I reply. "He can't stop himself from showing off his money. Anita is totally different that way and her parents have billions compared to the Malfoy millions. She's got lots of expensive things, but doesn't feel the need to be extravagant or compulsive about it."

"She's good for him," says Bill definitively. "The Malfoys are as Pureblooded and arrogant about it as it is possible to be. Anita pointed out how much of her blood and cultural heritage is Muggle and it looks like he accepted it."

"When it comes to Muggleborns and mixed bloods," I explain, "Draco seems to be able to like us as individuals, but has problems with us as a group. He still thinks that Purebloods are superior, but certain individual Muggleborns or mixed bloods are less objectionable than he originally thought. Still, I think if any of his old Slytherin friends were in the room, he'd adjust his comments to their expectations."

"He certainly doesn't seem to think Anita is inferior," Bill replies.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "She's good at coaxing him into looking at things differently while not directly challenging his biases. I think that's much more effective than confronting him."

The sound of tinkling bells comes from the general direction of the door to the hallway and Cindy floats into the room.

"How do you like my doorbells?" asks Cindy, batting her eyelashes at Bill.

"They are very nice," he replies, "but, aren't you supposed to wait until someone invites you in before you come through the door?"

"Oh," says Cindy, with a little moue of surprise. "I never thought of that. It's been so long since I've lived in a building let alone one with corporeals in it, I didn't think about the details."

"You'll get used to it," I reassure her. "Nobody expects you to be a perfect house ghost right away. You've been living in a cemetery and walking up and down Archer Avenue for the last seventy years."

Cindy drifts closer and points at me. "I'm counting on you to let me know if I do something improper. I want to get this right." She starts counting on her fingers. "June, July, and August. I've got three months to get ready for when the students move in for the next school year. That should be enough time," she says thoughtfully. "Speaking of time, Anita asked me to let you know that Wilhelmina has dinner ready down in Draco's apartment."

"Sounds good," announces Bill. He rises and offers me a hand. I accept and he pulls me up.

"Do you know what we're having?" I ask.

"Something she called calzones," replies Cindy. "By the way, don't call her Willy. She doesn't like that. She practically knocked the feather off my head when she got mad."

"Good advice," I reply, with mock seriousness.

"After dinner," adds Cindy, "I'll be making myself scarce, except if somebody comes to your door. I'll send them away. You won't see me until morning," she says, looking at Bill with a wink. Cindy waves as she disappears through the door.

I suppose Cindy is being helpful. I guess everyone is expecting Bill and me to be having quite a time, tonight.

"There's a signal in the dormitory when someone is having an overnight guest and doesn't want to be disturbed," I explain to Bill. "You hang an article of clothing over the doorknob so anyone can see it. Nobody is supposed to interrupt."

"Cindy isn't subtle," says Bill, opening the door. "She's the next best thing to draping a tie over the doorknob."

Bill has his hand on the small of my back when Draco welcomes us for dinner.

-------------------------

"It looks like Schuler was as good as his word about the wards," says Bill as he reads the sigils forming across the living room wall. "There are no surprise wards here inside your apartment. The wards on the building match up with the list Draco gave you when you signed your lease."

Bill has already looked over the apartment with his Muggle devices that detect electronic bugs. He found no sign of listening devices, cameras, or anything else.

"That's good news," I reply, much relieved. "Some of the things Mr. Schuler has done seem underhanded, but at least if he's telling us the truth about having done those things, I'll feel better about it."

"I can't confirm that there are wards on the building that will trigger an alarm if someone with a Dark Mark tries to enter," says Bill. "Without knowing the specific magical properties of the Mark, I can't say for certain. It does appear that there are wards on the building that will be triggered if someone bearing a bonded slave mark tries to come in."

"Do you think the Dark Mark is a type of slave mark?" I ask.

"It probably is," replies Bill. "The bearers can be tracked, compelled to apparate to the location of the slave holder, and be punished by sending pain through it. Those are the basic characteristics of a bonded slave mark. When I worked for Gringotts and was stationed in Africa, I occasionally had dealings with slavers. It's a filthy business and an obscene way to treat any being, magical or not."

"Is there any way to break a slave mark?"

Bill turns away from his sigils and looks at me.

"This is really about Severus, isn't it?" he remarks, looking at me rather intently.

"Of course it is," I reply urgently. "If everything goes pear-shaped, we have to evacuate our most important Order members to the United States. Severus has to come with. I won't even consider leaving him behind."

"I think another glass of wine is called for," replies Bill, looking at me compassionately.

"Why don't you finish up and I'll go and get it," I reply.

In a few minutes, I return with the wine glasses and the bottle. Bill is already stretched out on the sofa with his shoes off and his feet up.

Well, he did take his shoes off.

I hand him his glass and take a seat on the chair nearest his feet. At least there isn't any foot odor wafting over in my direction. It certainly wouldn't have been the case with Ron.

"So tell me about slave marks."

"As a general rule, they look like tattoos," says Bill, adjusting the pillow behind his head. "Getting one doesn't involve any needles or inks, like with the Muggle version. It's applied with a charm and the magic is activated with a potion. The slave holder adds spit, blood, or semen to the potion in order to bond the slave to him. Blood is the most common binding agent."

"Then how do you break the bonding?"

"The slave holder has to release it. The method varies depending on the composition of the bond. Some slave marks are more charm than potion. Others are more potion than charm. The most powerful ones are almost completely charm based and then activated through spit, blood, or semen poured into an open wound or a body orifice. The bond holder has to conduct a ritual to release the slave. Lesser bonds can usually be released at the word of the bond holder."

"There aren't any other ways?"

"There are," continues Bill, "but, they require a deep analysis of the mark to determine its magical composition. The problem is, there are protections against that built into most slave marks. Conduct a magical analysis of a mark with any depth and it triggers pain or causes physical harm. I've heard that during the first Voldemort War, attempts were made to analyze Dark Marks on prisoners in Azkaban. It killed the prisoners. They even tried it on a prisoner who had been kissed by a dementor. It killed the shell of the body."

"If a deep analysis can't be done, how have they developed a means to break the bonds?

"The Grindelwald Mark is a good example of how that's been managed," explains Bill. "Albus says they examined the marks on some of his followers who had been killed in action. Although they weren't active for the obvious reason, they were fresh enough that an analysis could be done to get the basic structure of the mark. Using that information, they conducted very specific targeted and brief analyses of various aspects of the mark on live volunteers who were looking to break the bond. It was painful, but didn't do enough damage to kill any single volunteer. After about twenty or so of these kinds of analyses, they were able to accumulate enough information about the magical composition of the Grindelwald Mark to break it.

"That process was trial and error and there were fatalities. Albus said they had just reached the point where they were successful in breaking the mark without injuries that couldn't be healed when Grindelwald was killed in their duel. Once Grindelwald was dead, the Grindelwald Mark went dormant so it wasn't an issue anymore."

"What about amputating the forearm? Severus said something about that."

"Inconclusive," replies Bill, pensively. "In the last six months of the Grindelwald War, things were very intense. Grindelwald probably wasn't as powerful as Voldemort, but nearly so. He was just as brutal near the end. Some of his people were desperate enough to get out from under his control that they tried amputation. It did free some of the ones who did it, but a good number died.

"Grindelwald used blood in a potion to activate his mark. The bonding agent was in the bloodstream of his followers. We don't know for certain why amputation worked in some cases. Poppy thinks it had something to do with rapid blood loss and replacing it with fresh untainted blood through the magical equivalent of a transfusion."

"Blood Replenishing potion wouldn't work for that," I clarify. "It would simply replace the lost blood with more tainted blood."

I don't feel any better for what Bill has just told me. There may not be a way to free Severus from the effects of the Dark Mark, if we have to go into hiding. We could do an amputation, but we'd have to have ten witches and wizards of a compatible blood type standing by who are willing to donate a pint of blood each to replace practically all the blood in his body. It would take a Healer or Mediwizard of considerable skill to manage moving all of that blood in a short amount of time.

All of that would take time to arrange and Severus would be tortured the whole time through the Dark Mark on his arm.

"What about the Draught of Living Death?" I ask.

"That might work," says Bill, thoughtfully. "The body is held very close to death through the influence of the potion. Any pain messages transmitted through the mark would have no effect on an unconscious mind."

"The draught itself causes body processes to slow until they are almost non-existent," I explain. "With everything slowed down, any damage the mark might do to Severus' body would be slowed. The amputation could take place and his blood be replaced with much less risk than if his body operated normally."

I can't believe we're discussing the best way to go about amputating Severus' forearm.

I place the wine glass on the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. My stomach is rolling and I take some deep breaths to calm myself.

I am not going to burst into tears.  
I am not going to burst into tears.  
I am not going to burst into tears.

I can't let my emotions get control of me. This is Severus' life we're talking about. I hear a noise and look up to see Bill getting off the sofa. He comes over and perches on the arm of my chair, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"We're going to look out for him, Hermione," says Bill gently. "Minerva, Remus, and I will be there every step of the way. If things end up badly for the Order, we'll do everything we can to make sure he's with us when we evacuate. If I have to personally dose him with the Draught of Living Death to get it down his gullet, I will. I'm sure Remus will hold him down for me and Minerva will cast the Body Bind."

I reach up and put my hand over his and squeeze. I can't trust myself to say the words.

"You understand that you may not even be in Britain when we find our opportunity to attack Voldemort," says Bill.

"I know," I reply. "Even if we're close to having a weapon, we don't have a delivery system."

"I haven't got a clue as to how we'll get Voldemort to inhale our potion," says Bill, patting my shoulder before he moves back to the sofa. He picks up his wine glass and swirls the red liquid before taking a sip. "I wonder how effective it would be for Severus to walk up to Voldemort, tell him he's scored some really good shit and offer him a snort."

Bill and I both crack up at that image. Our laughter is interrupted by tapping on the window. We both look up to see an owl standing on a box on the window sill.

"It looks like my change of address has gone through." I remark as I rise to open the window. The brown speckled barn owl flies in with the package in its claws. It drops it gently onto the coffee table and perches on top of it, an obvious ploy for a tip. Since I don't have any owl treats stocked, I check my pocket and pull out a dollar bill and roll it up. The owl takes it in its beak and flies off. I've been told that there's a wizard owned White Castle restaurant that takes the dollar bills when the owls bring them and gives them hamburgers in exchange. It has become very popular among the owls, which seem to like greasy burgers. Perhaps they taste just like a nice juicy mouse.

I'm not expecting any packages to arrive until later in the week and those should come through regular post. Bill nods approval as I check with package for booby traps, using spells he taught me.

There is an envelope on top of the contents of the box, which appear to be potion ingredients. Opening the envelope, I pull out a piece of parchment.

"It's from Poppy," I announce, puzzled. I begin to read.

------------------------

_Dear Hermione_

_I am sending you this missive on behalf of Ellen Smith, though she is completely unaware of it. The request for the help of my anonymous maiden brewer actually came through Healer Aloysius Spence, my contact at St. Mungo's. _

_It seems that Ellen and another Healer are treating a seven year old for a cancerous brain tumor. The tumor has not responded to any of the standard charms and potions and they are running out of options. _

_According to the letter I received from Healer Spence, Ellen became aware that he had contact with a maiden brewer because of the sudden availability of maiden brewed fertility potions. She requested that he contact his maiden brewer and ask her to prepare two potions they would like to try on her patient. _

_He contacted me and I am forwarding his request onto you. I did not enclose his letter or a copy of it out of concern that he might have a means of tracking it and finding out your identity. As I have mentioned before, he is curious about your identity and would like to negotiate directly with you._

_His letter states the child has only weeks to live unless one of these two potions is successful in eliminating the tumor. He quotes Ellen as stating that you may name your price for the potions and the child's parents will pay._

_I have taken the liberty of believing that you will choose to prepare the potions and have raided Severus' potions storeroom for the necessary ingredients in case you do not have them on hand. The directions for the potion are attached._

_You are the only person I know of who can prepare these potions. If Ellen knew your identity, I do not doubt she would ask you in person. Therefore, I shall ask on her behalf to do what you can to help this child._

_Sincerely,_

_Poppy Pomfrey_

--------------------------

I turn to Bill and hand him the letter. He takes it and begins to read.

"Would you bring the completed potions to Poppy tomorrow when you return to Hogwarts?" I ask as Bill finishes reading.

"Of course," he replies, gravely. "How long will it take to do the brewing?"

I am looking at the directions on the two parchments in my hand.

"Two hours for the first and three for the second. I'll be up a good portion of the night doing this."

"We have to be back at St. Germaine Hall at 9 am so I can portkey to Digital Magic at 9:15 to exchange packets with Laketha," says Bill. "From there, I'll portkey back to Hogwarts."

"No problem," I reply. "The potions will be done in plenty of time and I can grab a few hours of sleep before we go back to the dormitory."

"In that case," says Bill, yawning, "I might as well get some sleep. My body is still on Scotland time. I won't be able to go into the kitchen or anywhere near you while you're brewing."

"I know you had planned to take the sofa tonight, but there's no need," I tell him. "Why don't you take the bed? It will keep you out of contamination range of the potions and you'll sleep better. I can sleep on the sofa when I'm done with the brewing."

Bill raises an eyebrow. I can see he's struggling between being chivalrous and being comfortable. Maybe I can add a little encouragement.

"You do realize, I'll be able to put up a plaque over my bed that says 'Bill Weasley slept here'. It'll make me the envy of every girl at Hogwarts over the age of thirteen."

A playful smile is working at Bill's lips.

"I think you're overestimating my fantasy value," he chuckles.

"Oh no, I'm not," I reply, mischievously, "I should have mentioned that a percentage of the boys feel the same way."

"In that case," replies Bill, grinning, "I could point out that you have slept with almost all of the Weasley men, including my father."

At this point, I'm laughing so hard that my stomach is starting to hurt.

"I've slept with your mother and Ginny, too," I retort, after a couple of snorts.

That gets Bill laughing.

"And Remus, Tonks, and Harry," I add. "That afternoon started with sleeping with Severus."

"Yeah," says Bill, putting his arm around my shoulder, "But you didn't sleep with Mad-Eye, Albus, Daedelus, or a few others so your Order collection is incomplete."

"I can guarantee that my collection of Order members I've slept with is as complete as it will ever be," I reply, looking up at him with a smile. "No wonder I've got such a reputation among the Death Eaters."

"A reputation that is completely and totally wrong," murmurs Bill, suddenly serious.

"Which is why I shall be brewing tonight," I reply, equally serious. I reach up and pull his arm off my shoulder, so I can duck underneath. "And why you should go to bed and get some sleep." I start to push him in the general vicinity of the bedroom. He's not resisting at all.

"I think I'll try that whirlpool bathtub before I go to bed," says Bill, taking a general detour in the direction of the bathroom.

"Help yourself," I reply. "There are plenty of towels and extra toothbrushes in the cupboard. Feel free to transfigure towels into anything you need. You can even help yourself to the bath salts. I made them myself and you can have a choice of lilac or lavender scents."

"Which would Warren prefer?" asks Bill, teasing.

"I'll let him know you asked," I retort, teasing him back. "It will make his day. Just don't use my bubble bath if you are going to use the water jets in the whirlpool. I'll be cleaning bubbles off the ceiling."

"I do remember Mum teaching you those cleaning charms," calls Bill over his shoulder, closing the bathroom door.

"Brothers," I mutter, smiling to myself at the thought of having a brother.

Picking up the box, I go into the kitchen and set it down on the table. Sorting through the ingredients, my mind turns to the potions I am about to make.

This is wonderful. I can't deny that the primary reason I chose Potions as my career was the challenge it presents. By happy coincidence, it also fulfills my desire to help other people. I may very well be the only person in Europe or the United States who can brew these two potions.

As for charging the parents some exorbitant rate for the potions, that is not going to happen. I will charge a fair price. The cost of the ingredients, for which I will reimburse Hogwarts, plus the cost of my labor at an hourly rate, and ten percent profit above that will be fair. I'm not going to beggar a family for trying to save their child's life.

I bend down and open one of the cupboards under the counter. I reach in and pull out a cauldron. Opening the drawer above it, I take out a spoon. It's an odd piece that doesn't match the set I am using from my parents' house. I have no idea where they got it from. A bit of transfiguration and it becomes a ring for atop a burner on the stove. The cauldron fits very nicely on top.

Unrolling my set of Kroehler potions knives, I select the one I will use to begin slicing and chopping. In minutes, I am busy preparing one of the healing potions.

I chuckle to myself as I hear Bill singing in the bathtub.

"_Will you still need me? Will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?"_

Who knew the Beatles were big in the wizarding world?

It is my first night in my own apartment and I am brewing potions that may very well save a child's life. It doesn't get much better than this. I'll have to write Severus about it tomorrow.

--------------------------

Author's notes

White Castle is a chain of fast food restaurants. They specialize in making little square hamburgers that are fried with a lot of onions. They are nicknamed "Sliders" because of the grease and their tendency to slide right through the digestive tract. I can personally attest that Sliders taste best when purchased through the drive-through window at 2:00 am and that it takes half a dozen to fill you up. I can't actually prove that owls would like them, nor can I prove that they taste like a fat juicy mouse.

However, that would not surprise me.

The scene of the couple fighting on the bus is based on a real incident I witnessed when I was in college. I remember thinking that the way the girl called her boyfriend a bitch because he wasn't man enough to be a bastard was very clever and stored it away for future use. I never had a chance to use that line on anybody, so it has turned up here instead.

House points to those of you who realized that Chapter 72 began with a stoned snake and ended with a stoned Snape. I thought about having Severus say he felt happy-sleepy, but that would have been over the top.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: How Tempting, Jade2099, Oxon, Marble Meadow, Kirien, Jocemum, Rinny08, Kitty Malone, Evil-mastermind666, Anne, Morana Orion, Lyndie 578, Arime Setta, Em, Jem46, Trulyamused, Princessfiona, Noodle-monster, Sunsethill, Erytha, Nirtak.Enaile, Ami Metallium, Duj (who has a photographic memory of all six books), Ebbe04, Notwritten, Excessivelyperky (who knows how to be discreet), Droxy, Lilsnape, Danielle, Angel-65, Squiggles.Candi, Pure Girl, Sandstar08, Steph, Latinachikita, Passing Time, Katyes, MollysSister, Amsev, Maddie50, DeceptiveFates, Wynnleaf, Dolphindreamer, Lilyginny27, Oscarxena, CharmedForce, Koliber, Angie S, Darque Hart, Lipasnape, Nottbook, Remus r us, Squeaker19450, Instar, Brotherchaos, MMADfan, and Keske


	74. Chapter 74

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun

I am amazed by all the work Katyes has done translating forty-nine chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German.

Always, thank you to Julia for your input and congratulations on a remarkable accomplishment!

--------------------------  
May 2nd, 1999  
Severus

"I want you to use that jug. I need to know what Snakemort gave you," says Ellen in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

"Then you may leave the room," I say threateningly. "I would like some privacy."

"When you're ready to have a bowel movement, I want that too," she insists.

"For Merlin's sake, Ellen," I sneer. "Do you want a kidney next? A piece of my liver?"

Ellen leans over me in threatening manner. I find myself reclining a bit deeper into the pillows.

"Do you doubt my ability to go and get what I need for my analysis by going right up your colon?" she says smoothly.

"You have certainly got right up my nose," I retort.

She raises an eyebrow and looks at my nose rather critically.

"I'm entitled," she says with a superior look. "I've repaired that nose before. I suspect I know the way."

She has me there.

I believe I had just turned fourteen at the time. Black had been tormenting me again about my father. I surprised him that time by punching him in the stomach instead of hexing him. He surprised me by breaking my nose with his Herbology textbook. It hurt like hell and I wanted desperately to cry, but I was too proud and determined that fourteen year-old Slytherins did not cry for any reason.

Ellen must have been seventeen or eighteen, a Ravenclaw prefect. She saw the two of us fighting and sent Black on his way minus House points. I was pleased to have justice fall my way for once.

She used her handkerchief to wipe my face. Already a student of the healing arts, she did a few charms to stop the bleeding and repair my nose. By the time Ellen was done, I fancied myself in love. Of course, the age difference was an issue and she had already met her future husband. The crush did last until the end of term and she was the subject of some of my favorite teenage fantasies for a year or two.

That year, I wrote her a poem for Valentines Day. It was a rather poor piece of doggerel, the sort moonstruck young teenage boys write. I put it in a valentine and sent it to her anonymously. It is the only valentine I have ever sent anyone.

_To a lovely girl who shines like the sun.  
__I would give my wand arm to be your adored one._

The caliber of the writing is such that it is permanently embedded in my memory. As an adult, I have prayed on more than one occasion that she never determined who sent it to her. I doubt I would live it down.

I had been teaching for four years when Mark Smith became the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Ellen was already a Healer at St. Mungo's. We became reacquainted during the ten months she lived at Hogwarts, this time as peers.

Now, she is a peer who wants me to urinate and move my bowels on her command. I cross my arms and sneer with as much dignity as I can muster while wearing a nightshirt and sitting in my bed at headquarters.

"You are a Potions Master," she lectures, "and you know full well what a good analysis requires. He could have killed you by combining stimulants with Merlin knows what in that potion and following it up with an Obliviate. You could have just as easily ended up one bed over from the Longbottoms. Poppy and I want to ensure we have antidotes on hand in case the Dark Lord ever pulls a stunt like this on you again."

I suppose she does have my best interests at heart.

"Very well," I grumble.

"That's a good boy," she says, beaming at me approvingly.

The only thing that saves her from a very sarcastic retort from the "good boy" is Albus and Remus' arrival. Which she immediately derails by announcing that I am about to produce a urine sample she needs for her analysis and that they must leave the room until I am finished.

For some reason, my face feels hot.

I am awarded a twinkle by Albus and a roll of the eyes by Remus as they are hustled out of the room by Ellen, who gives me a beatific smile as she nods in the general direction of the jug. She closes the door behind her.

I am going to hex somebody very soon and do not much care as to who that person might be.

-----------------------

"You have always had such a difficult time relaxing," says Albus, examining my face more closely than I like. "That is why I want to try the progressive relaxation technique. You are already very good at tensing your muscles. The next step is to simply relax them."

Albus and I are preparing for him to enter my mind so we can repair the damage done by The Dark Lord's potions, combined with his brutal Legilimency and Obliviate.

"This will be much easier if you are deeply relaxed," continues Albus. "Given the potions cocktail the Dark Lord gave you, we will not add any more potions to your system until those are flushed out. I do not wish to use any charms that might interfere with our mind work."

"Agreed," I reply, sounding calmer than I truly feel.

I am reclining in the bed, propped up into a semi-sitting position with the pillows behind my back and under my arms. The blankets have been tossed to the end of the bed so Albus can judge the degree of tension in my legs and body through direct observation. I do feel ridiculous lying here in my nightshirt with my scrawny legs and long feet sticking out. My well-worn gray nightshirts are exceedingly comfortable for sleeping. However, they lack dignity under these circumstances and I would prefer not to be seen like this.

We are alone and Albus is sitting on the chair next to the bed, facing me. Remus was sent on his way so as not to be a distraction. Ellen asked to observe, but I declined for the same reason. It is difficult for me to relax and give over control to another's voice. I must be relaxed and willing for Albus to enter my mind and aid in repairing the damage the Dark Lord inflicted upon me.

Albus allows his voice to become soft, soothing, and rhythmic. It would be ideal for lulling a small child to sleep with a bedtime story.

"We will begin with the top of your head," he intones. "Feel the tightness and tension in your scalp. It is insufficient for our needs. Feel the tightness double."

I comply silently with his command, my eyes on his.

"The tightness shall now double again," he commands.

It does. There is no magic in this, now. It is all suggestion in the power of his voice. It feels like a force is pulling the skin of my face and scalp to the top of my head. No pain, but it is uncomfortable to hold my scalp so tense.

"Allow your scalp to go loose, limp, and comfortably relaxed."

I release the tightness and feel the skin relax. I sigh with comfort.

"Now, feel your forehead tighten," instructs Albus. "The skin around your eyes and nose is tense and tight. Feel the tightness as it builds across your cheekbones and down the sides of your face. The tightness travels to your chin and the muscles around your mouth."

"Allow it to double and then double again," he commands.

The muscles of my face tighten into an uncomfortable and pressured grimace.

"Hold it to the mental count of five."

One….Two….Three….Four….Five….

"And relax."

Ahhhh.

"Allow your eyes to drift closed….."

--------------------

There is an image in my mind of Albus with a trowel and mortar, rebuilding the bricks in a room of my memories. I can see myself, standing beside him. I hold my wand and whisper "_Firmu_s." The bricks and mortar lock into place.

---------------------

Albus is sitting on a chair, holding one of my robes in his left hand. His right hand is wielding a needle and thread. He weaves it in and out of the fabric, repairing the seam. He loops the needle through the thread three times, creating a knot. My wand moves and I murmur "_Adstringo_". The thread tightens and the robe is repaired.

---------------------

He holds the stirrer in his right hand and drops the phoenix feather into the bubbling cauldron with his left. There is a red flame, followed by a glow of white light and the potion is complete. Albus blows across the surface of the potion and it cools. Lifting it with both hands, Albus pours the silver potion onto the floor of the laboratory of my mind. I feel it flowing through the channels, tunnels, and by-ways. It flows up my feet and ankles and coats my body and head. When it covers the tips of my fingers, I move my wand and call out "_Curatio!_" I feel the healing flow everywhere.

----------------------

Dobby brings me another omelet. It is prepared with bits of ham and cheddar cheese, along with onions and green peppers. It is delicious.

"I cannot recall the last time I saw you eat with such enthusiasm," remarks Albus.

"I cannot recall the last time I was both famished and felt well enough to enjoy eating," I reply, helping myself to another rasher of bacon.

"I wish you had allowed me to watch," grumbles Remus, playing with his bacon across the dining room table. "I might have learned something."

Albus adds another spoonful of Molly's strawberry preserves to his toast.

"There would not have been much to see," he replies. "All of the activity was inside Severus' head."

"Had you been inside my mind," I explain, "You would have seen images of Albus performing all sorts of mundane repairs to walls, floors, clothing, and other everyday items. These represent different aspects of the mind and brain. When he did the repair, I added magic to complete the work. It was all done in symbols."

"Amazing," muses Remus. "I wish had the talent and the skill to do mind work."

"I fear that the form of mind work Severus and I did today is something that requires a certain innate talent," replies Albus. "If you were a natural Legilimense, the ability would have manifested by now."

"It's just….fascinating," says Remus, regretfully. "What were you able to learn about the missing time?"

"My memory ends abruptly with the Dark Lord doing a deep probe of my memories," I reply. "I daresay it was the deepest probe I have had from him. He found some of my more unpleasant memories, but nothing that revealed anything to him he did not already know. He did not find any of my memories of our work on the weapon."

It occurs to me that the worst memories the Dark Lord found did not include when Sirius Black sent me into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow while Remus was turning into his wolf form.

How strange.

I have always considered that to be one of my worst memories of my youth – the time I was most frightened.

Perhaps at some level I have forgiven Remus for his unwitting part in that fiasco.

"You are a better Occlumense than he is a Legilimense," observes Albus, looking at me above the piece of toast, now badly overloaded with preserves. "Were you not, he would have caught you by now."

"I prefer to assume nothing," I reply dryly. "Nor shall I allow myself to be overconfident. That is the path to carelessness, which would certainly be fatal."

"Where do your memories begin again?" asks Remus.

"With Lucius Malfoy tapping me on the shoulder to wake me up," I reply. "I dozed off during whatever meeting was going on with the inner circle. The Dark Lord's behavior was odd. It was as if he was having purely social time with his senior Death Eaters. He was demonstrating wand movements to a spell and the others were drinking wine, talking, and laughing. He even assisted me in rising to my feet."

I realize something important.

"It was as if he wanted to reinforce an image of himself as a father figure," I remark, puzzled. "He wanted us to see him as someone who cared about us as individuals."

"When has he ever concerned himself with such things?" queries Albus.

"Only when he was recruiting," I reply as I search my memories for similar kinds of behavior. "Or, when he wanted something that fear would not obtain for him."

"That certainly adds to our confusion over why the Dark Lord has changed his tactics," observes Remus.

"I shall have to think about this…." I muse. First, there is something else I must do.

"Dobby?" I summon the house-elf.

Harry Potter's pet elf appears with all of the enthusiasm of a puppy preparing for a romp outdoors. He is bouncing and almost dancing with delight.

"How can Dobby serve Harry Potter's friend, the Potions Master?"

Harry Potter's _friend_? There is a mystery I do not care to solve. I set aside my irritation, since it will not serve me well in dealing with Mr. Exuberantly Happy Elf.

"The clothing I wore yesterday has not been cleaned?" I ask.

"Dobby shall go immediately and clean the Professor's clothes," says the elf, preparing to snap his fingers for departure.

"No!" I emphasize. "I wish to examine the clothes before they are laundered." There are certain advantages to having a dozen copies of the same frock coat, trousers, and shirt. No one ever notices if a set or two is missing and I never have to decide what to wear.

"Dobby shall fetch them for Potions Master," says Dobby happily. His fingers snap and he disappears. An instant later, he is back with the pile of my clothing in his arms.

Remus clears space on the dining room table and I place the clothing there. I hand him the trousers from the top of the pile and he holds them out for me as I cast the analysis charm.

Because of unbuttoning the middle button of my left trouser pocket, we already know that I brewed something for the Dark Lord's personal use during the missing time. I hope to find out what it might have been.

"No clue here?" asks Remus, looking at the sigils forming over the surface of the fabric.

"No," I say, dismissively.

Remus hands the trousers to Dobby and picks up the shirt I was wearing. I repeat the same spell.

"Nothing," says Albus, looking intently at the sigils running across the fabric. When they vanish, Remus hands the shirt to Dobby.

Remus now holds the frock coat I wore yesterday. I repeat the spell. Excellent. The sigils run in a circle around a spot on the left sleeve. Leaning forward, I read them.

"Juice from hawthorn berries," I announce.

Albus has the most delighted smile on his face.

"You were brewing medicinal potions for Tom," he announces.

"Apparently," I reply. "Hawthorn berry juice is used in many potions that treat heart ailments."

"No wonder he took your memories and told the others the two of you practiced dueling yesterday," says Remus, handing the coat to Dobby. "There's no way he'd want you to remember what you brewed for him."

I pick up the rest of the pile and hand them to Dobby. I doubt there is any evidence to be obtained from my undergarments. The house-elf dances about again and then disappears.

"Perhaps whatever medical conditions Tom has are worsening?" speculates Albus. "If he no longer feels confident that he has the skills to brew what he needs, it would be logical to summon you and have you do the work."

"Entirely possible," I reply with a nod. "Before I return to Hogwarts, I will make a visit to Lucius and find out what was happening before he woke me up."

"Good idea," says Albus. "In case anyone is keeping track of your whereabouts, you should arrive secretly and leave publicly. We were careful to not be seen or monitored when Malfoy handed you over to me to get you medical care. As far as the Dark Lord is concerned, you are still at Malfoy Manor."

"I shall depart shortly," I reply, enjoying another leisurely sip of my morning tea.

"Ellen asked me to remind you to report in to Poppy when you return to Hogwarts," says Remus. "She had to leave to check a patient at St. Mungo's while you were doing the mind work. She also asked me to tell you to be sure and leave the specimens she asked for."

I mutter something I hope is largely unintelligible. I will not discuss bowel movements over the breakfast table, even though I have noticed Albus is inclined to do such things. Perhaps that is socially acceptable when one is 150 years old. I must remember to add that to the list of things I will not do if I should be fortunate enough to live to be 150 years old. It will go directly below the "Never twinkle", "Do not hand out sweets to cheer people", and "Never feel like you have to cheer people up" items.

-------------------------

"It reminded me of times during the First War," replies Lucius, setting down his teacup. "The Dark Lord was in _a good mood_ and I cannot remember the last time that was the case. We began by discussing the differences between blood magics of Babylonian, Persian, and Assyrian origins. Did you know that the Dark Lord spent 1952 to 1955 in the Middle East researching blood magic? He spoke about his travels and research for almost an hour.

"I do believe you were snoring through the whole discussion," says Lucius with an amused look.

"I do not snore," I reply huffily.

"Then your breath caught at the back of your throat," laughs Lucius, "resulting in some very loud noises."

I cannot believe the Dark Lord did not hex me for sleeping, let alone making noises. It is completely out of character for him.

"The Dark Lord was _congenial_," adds Lucius. "He encouraged our questions and asked questions of us. He listened and responded to our comments. None of us dared to disagree with anything he said, but it was actually like a two-sided conversation. He has not behaved this way in years."

I shake my head in wonder and refill both our teacups.

Lucius and I are in the solarium. The spring air is cool, but comfortable. The draperies are pulled back from the windows and anyone who might wish to know what either of us is doing can see us clearly. Efforts to read our lips or overhear our conversation will not work, since the wards around the Manor preclude such possibilities. We are finishing our leisurely luncheon of fresh trout with lightly seasoned peas and carrots with a rice pilaf. The house-elves of Malfoy Manor are exceptionally good cooks.

"Why now?" I ask, continuing our discussion. "What has changed that he would behave like this?"

"Do you remember that the Dark Lord credited you with it?" asks Lucius, raising an eyebrow.

My memory is a bit hazy, having been asleep or nearly so the whole of the meeting.

"No," I reply, "I do not remember that."

"He said that the two of you had spent the afternoon dueling and talking," explains Lucius. "He said that it reminded him of how satisfying it was in the days when we made time for it and he wanted to begin to do so again. He committed himself to making time for such discussions."

I straighten up in my chair. I suspect my surprise is all over my face.

"Are you certain you are talking about the Dark Lord?" I ask. "Tall, red eyes, no hair or nose, with gray skin? Bad attitude and a temper to match?"

"I wondered if someone had Polyjuiced themselves," says Lucius with a wry look, "except that the Dark Lord has no hair that I've seen. Does Polyjuice work if you drop a few bits of flaky gray skin into it?"

I grimace and shudder at the notion.

"What purpose would this behavior serve?" I wonder.

"Improve trust and his overall relationship with his senior Death Eaters?" asks Lucius. "Not that it would fool any of us. He would still torture any of us who dared to disagree with him or question any of his decisions. At best, it is a ruse to get something he wants."

"We shall have to keep an eye out for what that could be," I reply. "What is it he would want to attract through honey rather than vinegar? Though acid would probably be a better analogy than vinegar."

Lucius nods in agreement.

----------------------------

I enter the infirmary through the back door known only to Hogwarts teachers. I may be required to report in to Poppy to be cleared to return to regular duties, but I see no reason to advertise that fact. After a Hogsmeade weekend, she is often busy dealing with students who are to blame for their own digestive ailments. There are always some who will choose to eat their bounty from Honeydukes all in one day, after already having several butterbeers and a Fortescues' Death by Chocolate sundae.

They deserve their sorry fates.

I am on my way to her office when I hear a noise in the utility room off to the side. Never being one to leave such things uninvestigated, I stop and look in the doorway.

Miss Collingsworth, I presume?

There she is, standing at a sink applying the toothbrush to the bedpan she is holding. To her left, there is a rack where the cleaned bedpans are drying. There appear to be twenty or more on the rack, ready to be magically sanitized when Miss Collingsworth is done cleaning them. I see there are only two left to be cleaned before she will have finished her task. I would estimate that Miss Collingsworth and her toothbrush have been busy for a few hours.

I clear my throat.

The bedpan in her hands clatters into the sink. Miss Collingsworth raises her head slowly and looks at me, her eyes wide in the manner of a frightened rabbit.

I smile. It is the kind of smile a wolf offers the rabbit moments before it meets its fate.

"Good afternoon, Miss Collingsworth," I state, most pleasantly. Always get them wondering what you are up to.

"Good - good afternoon, Professor Snape," she stutters.

I step closer to her and very noticeably inspect her work.

"Miss Collingsworth," I say very smoothly, "may I assume that this little task has enlightened you to the fact that a potions classroom is not the place for pranks of any kind?"

"Y – yes, sir," she says nervously.

"And have you taken this time to consider the ramifications of your actions, including the fact that you caused physical harm to another person?"

She stammers out another, "Yes, sir."

I use just the lightest touch of Legilimency to assess her current state of mind. Ahhh, very good. She is caught right in between anxiety and agitation at my presence.

"In your experience, do I teach my students by presenting a fact only one time or are you aware of the benefits of constant reiteration of information used to drive a point home?"

She stares at me, wordless. She may very well wet herself, soon.

"Miss Collingsworth, I am determined that this lesson will stay with you for the rest of your life."

With a flick of my wand, the bedpans disappear from the drying rack and appear in a pile behind her in their previous fouled states.

I give my robes an especially dramatic swirl as I exit from the utility room. The sounds of her hopeless wails ring in my ears and follow me out into the infirmary. I do not even try to keep the smirk off my face as I walk towards Poppy's office.

Poppy has a look of consternation as she sticks her head out of the door of her office. She notices me approaching and her features relax. By the time I reach her office, she is offering an amused smile.

"How many repetitions?" she asks.

"Miss Collingsworth will clean those bedpans three times before they stay clean," I reply.

"Nice touch," calls out Bill Weasley, standing behind her.

I strike a rather superior pose and adjust the cuffs of my frock coat.

"One does what one can," I reply with a smirk.

Poppy steps back and invites me into her office. Bill resumes his seat in front of her desk and I take the other chair.

"I was just letting Poppy know about how Hermione is doing," says Bill. "I returned from Chicago a little while ago."

Poppy moves a small box sitting on her desk to the side and takes her seat.

"Bill was telling me that Draco Malfoy's girlfriend seems to be very good for him," remarks Poppy as she gestures to him to continue the story.

"We were all having breakfast in Draco's apartment the morning the students moved into their own apartments," says Bill. "Apparently, Draco had a difficult time a few days before with taking the Muggle equivalent of the Knight bus and did not blend in well. He started talking about getting a car and using it for transportation to and from the campus so he could avoid riding the bus.

"Straight away, Anita takes the toast out of his hand and starts to describe some of her own Muggle relatives and her relationships with them. She points out how important they are to her, just like his own relatives are to him. The next thing you know, Malfoy is saying he will buy a less expensive and showy car than he had planned, will learn how to blend in on the bus, and will even consider shopping at the grocery story."

This is a very surprising description. Draco has not confided these kinds of incidents to me, not knowing precisely where I stand on the issue of Muggles and Their Proper Place in the Universe. If he thinks I actually believe that Death Eater piffle about the inherent inferiority of wizards with any Muggle blood in them, he is badly mistaken.

I carefully restrain a smile as I consider how Draco and his father will respond when the day arrives that I may publicly address my intentions towards Hermione.

"Draco Malfoy has a girlfriend with mixed blood?" exclaims Poppy. "I never would have predicted such a thing. I do wonder how the Malfoys feel about that."

"The girl's father may very well be the wealthiest wizard in the western world," Bill comments. "They might be willing to make an exception."

"Draco's family may not be aware that Miss Schuler holds such a high level of influence over him," I remark. "This relationship may be more serious than they realize."

"I don't know if they have made any promises to one another," says Bill, "but, with the way they behave towards each other I wouldn't be surprised to see it happen."

"How is Hermione?" asks Poppy.

"She's doing well," replies Bill. "She is using warming charms to stay comfortable, but other than that she's better. I saw her eating with a healthy appetite, she reports sleeping normally, and claims her stamina is back to normal. Saturday was strenuous with all the activity of moving into the apartment and setting it up. She seemed fine."

"Very good," says Poppy. "Hopefully, we will see no long lasting effects from the potions accident."

I nod in agreement. In our recent journal entries, Hermione said that she would talk to Bill about our relationship this weekend. However, I have not had an opportunity to talk to Poppy. Therefore, I shall be careful not to reveal too much.

"I checked the wards in her apartment to make certain they were adequate with no spying charms," commented Bill. "It is pretty much as we were told with nothing extra thrown in."

"Good," I reply.

"Poppy mentioned you had a bad time with the Dark Lord, yesterday," remarks Bill.

"We will have a meeting tonight at 8 pm in Albus' office to discuss the events of the last few days," I reply.

"Both of us will be there," insists Poppy. "I do believe I am supposed to check you over before you return to normal duties."

"In that case," says Bill, rising from his chair, "I believe I will leave the two of you to take care of that." He pauses a moment. "Hermione sends you her best," he adds as he leaves.

I shall write to Hermione tonight

------------------------------

Poppy has released me to return to my regular responsibilities. I am on my way to my office after stopping at the Slytherin common room to check on the little snakes. As soon as I stepped in the door, there was a flurry of magical cleaning as they cleared away the debris from yesterday's Hogsmeade visit. Other than a few Third Years who have made themselves ill from too many sweets, the rest seem to be relatively intact.

There is a buzzing in my ear as I approach the Potions classroom. Someone has got past the wards and is inside. Most likely, it is a student who has decided to try to steal potions ingredients or equipment. I carefully lower the wards so the change will not be noticed by the trespasser unless they know a few very sophisticated alarm charms.

At the last step, the door flies open and I step inside, wand at the ready to hex whatever miscreant has decided to invade my domain.

As soon as I see her, I lower my wand and roll my eyes.

"Would you care to explain why you are sitting _on_ my desk?" I ask.

"Because you would be certain to notice as soon as you opened the door and I knew it would annoy you," she replies, sweeping her hair back. She is sitting cross-legged in the middle of my desk.

Her hair is one of her most notable features. It is not as thick and curled as Hermione's, but nearly so. It is the color that one notices. There are shades of brown, red, gold, and a few strands of black mixed in. Her hair is as sure a sign that she is of McKinnon extraction, just as carroty hair is the signature of a Weasley.

"You are a day early," I respond. "Your owl post said you would be here tomorrow at 4 pm to calibrate the scales."

She hops down off of the desk and crosses the classroom in my direction. I wave my hand and close the door. The wards automatically snap into place.

"I would have preferred to do that and keep to my cover story," she replies. "However, circumstances have changed and I wanted to see you right away."

I nod in return. She would not have come early without a good reason.

"Then, let us repair to my office," I reply. "No one will hear us in there. By the way, how did you get into my classroom?"

"The day I can't figure out how to break into a Hogwarts classroom is the day I snap my wand and go Muggle," she replies, challenging me with a look.

"The classroom wards are fairly standard with only a few personal adaptations, since that is all Albus will allow," I answer, raising an eyebrow. "However, if you attempt the wards on the potions storeroom, you will be in for a surprise or two."

She stops and puts her hand on my arm.

"You are making me positively nostalgic," she sighs. "Do you remember the night we broke into Sluggy's potions storeroom and rearranged all of the jars?"

"Vividly," I reply, smiling. "We did not steal anything and it confused the hell out of him for weeks trying to figure out who did it and why."

"The next exercise was breaking into Minerva's classroom and turning all of the teacups into mice," she adds.

"You know she suspects that we did it," I confess.

"Suspicion isn't proof," she laughs.

"Binns still has not noticed that we replaced his books on medieval history with volumes from the _The Compleate Encyclopedia of Sex Magics_."

"He was too easy," she replies with a snort. "His wards weren't even a challenge. I guess Albus never really thought anybody would want to tamper with Binn's books. It is a shame we didn't figure out how to break into Albus' quarters when we were still students."

"That had to wait until we were teachers," I answer with a smirk. "We did warn him we were going to do it."

"He seemed amused by that at the time," she says with a chuckle. "He really didn't believe we could possibly succeed and seemed humbled by the experience. Of course, changing the color of all of his robes to black gave us away."

"He even wore one of them for the day before changing them back."

"That was the ultimate compliment," says Jean, preceding me into the office.

Lucius Malfoy is the only person I would truly count as a friend when I was a student at Hogwarts. Were it not for my reticence, Jean probably would have been one, too. I was shy and three years younger than she, whereas Jean has never had a shy moment in her life. Even as Head of House, I am still uncertain why the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin.

Jean Lamb is friendly. She is cheerful. To my dismay, she is frequently optimistic.

These are Hufflepuff characteristics. In a less intelligent, ambitious, or thoughtful witch, those would have landed her there. Instead, she breezed her way into Slytherin.

My house tends to breed politicians and Lucius is a prime example of that. Jean McKinnon is not a politician. She was too honest and had to restrain a tendency towards bludgerlike bluntness, but Slytherin taught her how to use words to persuade others.

She is not manipulative, but she learned how to spot manipulation and sidestep the manipulator. She is not Dark, but she learned enough about Darkness to recognize it and deal with it. Coming from a family of Aurors, that was a subject of conversation over the dinner table.

She always had a tendency to look out for the vulnerable ones. I was one of those. We weren't quite friends, but we were Slytherins and she did look out for me. When the Marauders selected me as the primary target for their ire, Jean made a point of teaching me charms and hexes that were not part of the Hogwarts curriculum so I could better defend myself. In exchange, I helped her to break into classrooms and other locked and warded places about the castle. I was good at it and we both felt those skills would be useful.

The Dark Lord was growing in power while we were at Hogwarts. He was recruiting among the parents and older siblings of our housemates. At the same time, the Order was recruiting among the family members of the Gryffindors. Jean's siblings had been in Gryffindor, which made it difficult for her at home. Half of the adult members of her family were Aurors and kept themselves busy arresting the family members of our Slytherin cohorts, which made it difficult for her in our House. She became increasingly isolated. My friendship with Lucius made it difficult for me to have anything to do with Jean during the last five months before she finished her education. It did not help that her ambitions were no secret.

Jean wanted to be an Auror. She wanted to chase down Dark wizards in the finest tradition of her family. She might have done exactly that except the Unspeakables wanted her. They recruited her, trained her, and she became an expert in analyzing trends in magical crimes. Hidden inside the Department of Magical Weights and Measures, along with several of her fellow Unspeakables, she developed her gift of seeing patterns in disparate events and details to find the big picture.

In 1980, Jean McKinnon married Michael Lamb. She was summoned home from her honeymoon when the Dark Lord slaughtered her family the same night I attended the murder of Amanda McKinnon and her husband.

It reflects poorly on Albus that he didn't trust Jean until then. His bias against Slytherins has continually got in the way of clear thinking. She joined the Order just before the fateful date of October 31st, 1981. She was allowed in too late to see the pattern in the threat to the Potters and Longbottoms.

It was the year after Mark Smith sneezed his way out of Hogwarts that Albus recruited Jean to serve as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. She knew the position was cursed and took a one year leave of absence from her duties with the Unspeakables. She fully intended to return at the end of that year and hoped that her commitment to a voluntary departure would keep the curse from affecting her.

1987 was a good year at Hogwarts. There were two of us Slytherins on the staff, the war was five years in the past, the signs of the Dark Lord's return had not yet surfaced and Slytherin was at the beginning of the third year of our House Cup winning streak.

She accepted my suggestions for changes to the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. I ignored her suggestions for the Potions curriculum. It made for interesting arguments. We forged an alliance and a friendship. At the end of the year, Lucius had her fired.

There is no doubt in my mind that she is still furious about that one. I have wondered if she is the one responsible for the problems Lucius has with his hair.

When I received her missive about recalibrating the scales in the Potions laboratory, I knew she was investigating something and wanted my opinion.

Jean accepts my offer of tea and takes the seat across from my desk. Never one to waste time on social pleasantries when there is urgent business at hand, she comes to the point.

"I want to talk to you about missing women," she says, pulling a folded parchment from the pocket of her robes. She unfolds it and hands it to me. I begin to read.

-----------------------

Name--------------------------Date-----------Age-----Residence--------------Occupation  
1)Adelaide Barnstable---------15/3/98---------122-----London-----------------Librarian  
2)Coriander Spittlesburn--------8/7/98----------92-----Cardiff------------------Seamstress  
3)Josette Colson-------------19/10/98----------18-----Diagon Alley------------Shop assistant  
4)Fiona Figgleston--------------6/1/99----------13-----Knockturn Alley---------None  
5)Scheherazade Timms--------22/1/99---------114-----Leeds-------------------Librarian  
6)Mary O'Fallon----------------4/2/99----------22-----Cork--------------------Maid  
7)Kathleen Clancy---------------7/3/99---------77-----Dublin-------------------Nun

Although these disappearances are scattered throughout Great Britain, these women do appear to have some things in common:  
The women are all unmarried  
All have some Muggle ancestory within two generations  
None have parents who are known to be alive  
All are of low or moderate socio-economic status  
Subjects 1, 2, & 5 tended to be reclusive. Two are librarians in Muggle libraries.  
Subjects 3, 5, & 6 are orphans who were abandoned to their own resources.  
Subjects 1, 2, 3, 4, & 6 are daughters of unmarried mothers, fathers unknown.  
Subjects 3 & 6 had mothers who were reputed to be mistresses of wealthy men.  
Subjects 1, 2, 5, & 7 had careers in the Muggle world and limited contact with the wizarding world.

---------------------------

I raise my head and make eye contact.

"I have heard nothing about this among the Death Eaters," I reply, quietly. My eyes return to the list of names in front of me.

"Damnation," mutters Jean. "I didn't think it was Death Eater activity because of the lack of the Mosmordre. The Dark Lord isn't one to hide his murders for any length of time. I will admit I was hoping there might be a rogue Death Eater who was indulging himself outside of sanctioned activities."

"If there is," I answer, "he is not boasting about this. Word would have got around and the Dark Lord would not have tolerated independent action." I look over the data again. "There are commonalities here that you have identified, but the differences make no sense."

"If you're referring to the age disparity," she remarks, "I know what you mean. I've studied Muggle serial killers and many of them are sexual predators. They tend to target a particular type of victim. A sociopath who is interested in having sex with a 14 year old and murdering her afterwards isn't likely to want to do the same thing to a witch who is 122 years old."

A list of questions forms in my head.

"Are you certain the perpetrator wants sex? Are there autopsy reports on the missing women?" I ask. "Can you really be certain this is the work of a single person? It could be two or more predators."

"No bodies have been found," replies Jean, sounding exceedingly frustrated. "The lack of any actual evidence in these cases is overwhelming. Therefore, we don't know if they were sexually assaulted and we have no autopsies to give us a cause of death. We don't even know exactly when or where most of the women were snatched. There are no signs of struggles in their homes, so we think they were out when they were taken. The nun was on her way to a meeting. The last time the two librarians were seen was when they were leaving their respective jobs at the end of the day before the weekend. The others, we simply don't know. They were too disconnected and isolated for other people to remember when they last saw them."

"What's worse is we've got another case reported this morning," says Jean, pinching the bridge of her nose. "A potions apprentice went missing last night."

"Who?" I demand, alarmed.

"Holly Bitterman," replies Jean. "Dorcas Whittsit is her Potions Mistress. Bitterman is 21 years old, unmarried, and lives with Whittsit."

"She lives with Whittsit because her parents are dead and Dorcas is her aunt," I reply as I mentally pull together all of the information I can recall about Bitterman. "Bitterman was a Hufflepuff and finished at Hogwarts three years ago. She was an acceptable Potions student, but I would not consider her to be Potions Mistress material. She only achieved an apprenticeship because of her aunt. I know Dorcas intended the girl to come into the business and inherit it some day."

"Do you know if she had any enemies?" asks Jean.

"None to my awareness," I reply, wracking my brain to recall. "She was a Hufflepuff."

"That doesn't mean she never offended anybody," snorts Jean. "What about the aunt?"

"Dorcas Whittsit is a rather uninteresting person," I explain. "She achieved a Potions Mastery because she apprenticed with a family member who owned the apothecary. She is more of a technician than a true Mistress. She has done very little research, except to refine some currently existing potions used to treat respiratory conditions. She runs her apothecary in Diagon Alley and does a reasonable business. She purchases some commercially manufactured potions and resells them. Her technicians and apprentice make the others. She does relatively little of the potions-making herself. I do not believe Dorcas sells Wolfsbane. It requires advanced Master level skills and she would not have the ability to prepare it."

"I take it you are unaware of any incidents where she may have prepared a potion incorrectly or given the wrong one to a customer, causing harm?" she asks.

"There have been no accusations to that effect," I reply. "There are about twenty-five Potions Masters in Britain. We are a small community and such stories tend to be passed around."

"Bitterman's disappearance is different than the others in that she is very connected to her aunt and likely to be missed. However, she disappeared while running an errand and Whittsit says it is completely out of character for her to disappear like this. I thought it might fit with the others because she disappeared away from her home," comments Jean. "I feel like there is something I don't know about these women, something that has made them a target. There are too many missing women in the last year for this to be purely coincidental. There are too many commonalities for all of these women to simply be a random choice. There is something I am not seeing and it is going to drive me nuts until I figure it out."

"It does not fit into murders authorized by the Dark Lord," I emphasize. "He prefers them to fit into two categories. Most are bloody and obviously preceded by torture. The bodies are found right away. These are intended to generate fear of The Dark Lord's willingness to inflict excruciating pain followed by a nasty death. The other murders are highly efficient, with a quick Avada Kedavra. These generate fear because of the cold-blooded nature of the execution. The Dark Lord always wants the Mosmordre cast to take credit for the murder."

"These disappearances definitely fall outside of that pattern," says Jean, running her hand through her hair in frustration. She looks at me intently. "Is there anything that you can see in this, even wild speculation?"

"May I keep this list?" I ask.

"Of course," replies Jean.

"I will go over it again and see if I can think of anything," I reply.

"I'll still be back tomorrow to calibrate the scales," sighs Jean. "Since I made the appointment, I need to be seen."

"That will give me time to think about this," I state, holding up the parchment with the list.

I look at my left arm in dismay. There will be less time than I anticipated. The Dark Mark has begun to burn. This is too damn soon and I am not fully recovered from the damage Riddle did to me yesterday. That bloody bastard.

"Oh shit," says Jean, turning pale. "You're being summoned, aren't you?"

"Tell Dumbledore for me," I order her as I reach into the bottom drawer of the desk and remove a pouch that contains spare Death Eater robes and mask. I drop the parchment with the list into the drawer and ward it.

Jean follows me out of the office door and into the classroom. The Mark is burning intensely. This is a powerful summons.

"Severus!" she calls before I can leave. She rushes after me and I pause and turn.

"I know you have to go," she says, breathlessly. "I know Dumbledore needed you to go back when the Dark Lord got back into a body." She looks at me sympathetically. "I'm just terribly sorry you have to do this."

"There is no one else who can," I answer, letting the bitterness leak into my voice. "Tell Dumbledore."

"I will," I hear her say as I run out of the door towards the secret exit at the base of Astronomy Tower.

-------------------------------

I am uncertain of where I am. There is a glow from a fire through the thick trees and underbrush, so there must be a clearing ahead. I trudge through the woods, my Death Eater robes catching on the branches. As I come into a more open space, I can see robed figures ahead of me. The others are already in a circle. Either they arrived well ahead of me or I was summoned much later than they. Neither of those possibilities bodes well.

The circle parts to allow me access. The Dark Lord is in the center of the circle, backlit by the fire behind him. A stone slab is to his left. It looks like an altar.

This is a very bad sign.

----------------------------

Author's notes

The credit for the scene between Professor Snape and Miss Collingsworth belongs to Jocemum, who _is Looking for Magic's_ official consultant on all things medical. She suggested the overall scene and even offered dialog. I think it is one of the funniest parts of the story and classically Snape. A round of applause to Jocemum for her guest appearance, if you please!

Yes, the stuff is about to hit the fan.

Please accept my thanks for your comments. MMADfan, Arctic Dragon, Kirien, Mia Rose 156, Sweetlysevere, SlytherinTwinCC, Spirit of the Sky, Amsev, TiniLove, Ebbe04, Rinny08, Madamsnape78, Legolasandmeforever, Droxy, Teri, Loveshouse, duj, Erytha, Notwritten, Maddie50, Kitty Malone, Angel-65, Oscarxena, Lady Slone, Excessivelyperky, Lilsnape, Latinachikita, Squiggles.Candi, Sweety-Pie5445, Morbidmanda13, BuckeyeBelle, SpSt, Andi-Scribbles, Instar, Trulyamused, Tooi Ake, Darque Hart, Lipasnape, Broken2nite, Marble Meadow, Slave4severus, Professorsnarky, Lyndie578, Koliber, Princessfiona, Nottbook, Sunsethill, Squeaker19450, MollysSister, FarmerLiz, Nebrets, T wrecks, Nirtak.Enaile, Mara, Crystalclear, Danielle, Arime Setta, and How Tempting.


	75. Chapter 75

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Warning. There is a reason this fic is rated "M". This chapter contains disturbing images, including rituals that include rape and torture. If this offends you, don't read it. Events occurring here will be referred to in future chapters.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this chapter and your suggestions. Katyes continues to plug away by translating fifty chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German.

----------------------------

May 2nd, 1999, Continued  
Severus

I am uncertain of where I am. There is a glow from a fire through the thick trees and underbrush, so there must be a clearing ahead. I trudge through the woods, my Death Eater robes catching on the branches. As I come into a more open space, I can see robed figures ahead of me. The others are already in a circle. Either they arrived well ahead of me or I was summoned much later than they. Neither of those possibilities bodes well.

The circle parts to allow me access. The Dark Lord is in the center of the circle, backlit by the fire behind him. A stone slab is to his left. It looks like an altar.

This is a very bad sign.

I drop to one knee and bow my head at the edge of the circle and await the Dark Lord's summons to approach. The circle is utterly silent.

Although I appear to be studying the ground before me, the magically enhanced eye openings of the Death Eater mask allow me to see far more. I can see Nagini lying by the fire next to an enormous chair with ornately carved arms and heaped with black velvet cushions. It must be Voldemort's throne for this event. There is a human-sized bulge to Nagini's middle. Who constituted the snake's dinner and why?

"Rise, my son," calls Voldemort, "and make your obeisance to me."

He is going for high drama. I rise and project an aura of utter calm and confidence about me. I do not know what game is being played here, but he is clearly planning a ritual this evening. As I reach the Dark Lord, I drop to one knee and bow my head. He holds out his gray, almost skeletal hand and I kiss his ring.

"I have a special task for you this evening," says the Dark Lord, his voice high pitched and dramatic. "I bid you rise."

I comply, standing silent and respectful as the Dark Lord seats himself on the tall carved chair. Nagini lifts her huge head and Voldemort reaches down and caresses the snake with obvious affection. Her long forked tongue flicks out to taste the air around her.

"Our dear Nagini has fed well tonight, courtesy of one of your brothers," says Voldemort with a soft hiss. "A sacrifice was made tonight on the altar of the future. Preparations are being made for the day of our glorious victory. Tonight, you will take your greatest step yet in preparing the way."

"I am honored to serve, my Lord," I reply, sounding considerably more confident than I feel. I reinforce my Occlumency shields to prepare for whatever might come.

The Dark Lord holds out a vial, nodding to me to take it. I reach out and take it from his hand. It is warm and the liquid inside is blood red.

"The Death Eaters have been denied the Mystical Union long enough, my son. Tonight you will brew for me and return to us this gift." Voldemort waves expansively to the Death Eaters circled around us. "In this vial is the fresh blood from the maidenhead of a virgin witch taken tonight in violence and fear. You may thank your brothers for arranging this."

I clamp down on the automatic response of horror and fear. Who is the virgin? It cannot possibly be… He could not know. He believes Hermione is a whore. I redouble the shields in my mind and put my fear aside. I cannot get the answer now. By Merlin's wand, the bulge in Nagini must be the victim.

"We shall adjourn to a place where you will brew tonight, my most trusted Potions Master. When we return here, we shall have the information we need to take our next step into the future."

The Dark Lord rises and I step back.

"Come forward, Lucius," he calls.

One of the masked and robed forms steps into the light of the fire and drops to one knee before the Dark Lord to kiss his ring, just as I had done.

"I give you and your team the task of bringing the woman to me. She has the knowledge we need. You know where she is?"

"I do, Master," answers Lucius, "You honor my team with your trust."

Voldemort is speaking like a religious mystic, exhorting his followers.

"Then go and fulfill your mission, my sons and daughters," he announces, arms raised as though he is blessing the circle. "Know that you carry the benediction of the Dark with you this night."

Lucius rises, careful not to look at me. He turns and strides out of the circle, half dozen other Death Eaters stepping forward to follow him. They vanish in moments, departed on their secret mission. I have no idea what is going on and the possibilities terrify me.

What woman? What information? Not Hermione, please Merlin.

The Dark Lord addresses what remains of the circle.

"Remain here, my children. Guard well this place of our highest worship. I give command to my most loyal servant, Peter." The Dark Lord holds a hand out to the shortest Death Eater. Pettigrew, his silver hand shining from beneath the sleeve of his robes, takes a step forward and bows.

I shall return within two hours," announces the Dark Lord as he turns to me. "Attend me, Severus." He vanishes, apparating away. A moment later, the Dark Mark burns as I feel the summons. I press the Mark and apparate.

I am indoors, possibly in a cellar. I can see the Dark Lord standing in the doorway of whatever room we are in, perhaps a transportation room?

"This way, Severus," he says, walking down the hallway before us. The lamps in the hallway light as he waves his hand. We pass through a long corridor with doors on either side. The Dark Lord stops before one and gives a command I cannot hear. The door opens and he steps aside to let me go in first.

As I step through the door, the lamps light automatically. It appears to be a fully equipped potions laboratory. Perhaps this is where The Dark Lord has been brewing for himself? The worktable appears to be set up with ingredients sitting out and a cauldron in place. There is an ancient book beside it.

I wonder if I have been here before. The events of yesterday have been ripped from my mind, but I know from the evidence that I brewed.

He walks over to the book, opens it to a marked page, and turns it so I might read.

"This is what I wish you to brew."

"May I, Master?" I must ask before I approach him.

"You may," he replies, his red eyes gazing at me intently.

I look at the text before me, scanning the list of ingredients and the directions. This is a potion I have read about in Dark tomes, but never before have I seen the actual instructions for the brewing. I am both fascinated and appalled. This potion is a treatment for impotence and to enhance male virility, a powerful potion using one of the Darkest and rarest ingredients of all.

The vial in my pocket is priceless on the Dark Arts black market. It holds the blood from the maidenhead of a virgin witch, taken during a public rape in a Dark ceremony. The greater her terror and pain during the ceremony, the more potent the blood will be for the purposes of brewing this potion. I read further into the directions. The virgin must be delivered to the ceremony by a male blood relative who then gives ceremonial blessing to the wizard who will perform the rape. The kinsman then stands to watch the proceedings as chief witness.

I am almost dizzy with relief and ashamed to admit it. The victim cannot be Hermione. She has no living male relatives. Her relationship to the Weasleys is honorary, not even a legal adoption. Even if Percy Weasley tried to present himself as her brother, an adoption is meaningless to this ceremony. The male must be blood kin to the female. The victim was someone else.

Could it have been Holly Bitterman? Unlikely. I am unaware of any of her kinsmen who are Death Eaters.

My questions must be phrased carefully.

"My Lord," I ask, "was the terror and pain of the rape sufficient to produce the desired potency in the blood?"

"I believe it was," he answers with a hiss. "Walden McNair performed the rape."

The Dark Lord need say no more. McNair seeks victims during raids and uses them sadistically. He is hugely proportioned. Whoever this girl was, she suffered before she died. I do my best not to show my horror that I might be holding a vial containing the maiden's blood of one of my students.

"Was the blood collected in ritual fashion?"

"It was," he replies. "I stopped him after the second thrust and collected it personally. Her father, Edmund Rutherford, stood by as chief witness and gave the ceremonial blessing to McNair. All of the proper steps were followed in the ritual. I limited the witnesses to those among the Death Eaters who enjoy such sport. She was degraded before the ceremony and debauched afterwards. She died screaming. Her blood should be of the highest potency."

"By your leave, Master," I reply, "I shall begin."

He steps aside to allow me room to work. I proceed to brew the potion, watched closely by the Dark Lord.

That is why the Dark Lord did not summon me sooner. The presence of even one witness who does not relish rape can inhibit the effectiveness of the ceremony. It also explains why Rutherford has been so close to the Dark Lord for the last several months. He has been holding his daughter in reserve for this ceremony.

If I am ever presented with the opportunity, I shall ensure that Edmund Rutherford dies screaming.

Rutherford has no daughter who has ever attended Hogwarts and Kyle Rutherford is not known to have had a sister. The girl who died here tonight must have been Rutherford's natural daughter by a mistress. There were two women on Jean's list who were young enough to be Rutherford's child.

I cannot answer these questions now and must attend to brewing the potion for the Dark Lord.

---------------------------

It is ninety minutes later when it is time for the last step.

The potion is simmering gently in the cauldron. It is one of the Darkest potions I have ever had the misfortune to brew, but utterly benign in appearance. It is a meridian blue in color and has the sent of rich pine to it. An innocent woman died a horrible death to provide one of the ingredients. Were there justice to any of it, it should be black and thick as pitch. It should smell like the grave.

The Dark Lord will perform the last step himself. I step away from the table.

Baring his left wrist, the Dark Lord takes a silver knife and slices across his skin. Blood, bright and red wells and drips from the cut into a silver goblet. He watches carefully as the blood fills to the desired amount. Setting aside the knife, he uses his wand to heal the cut. Lifting the goblet, he pours the blood into a silver measuring spoon and dribbles it into the potion.

The potion turns deep blue. It is now bonded to the Dark Lord and will work only for him.

He cleans the goblet, spoon, and the knife with a wave of his wand. Of course, he will take no chance that anyone will ever access a drop of his blood. It could be used against him in any number of Dark spells.

I _Finite_ the flame beneath the cauldron to allow the contents to cool. There is enough potion here to give the Dark Lord at least one hundred erections. He will be able to initiate one hundred new Death Eaters with this.

Under the watchful eye of the Dark Lord, I put away the unused ingredients and clean the implements and measures. When the potion is sufficiently cooled, he pours it carefully into vials and seals each one. Each vial is put into a rack, which is placed in a secured cabinet. The exception is one vial that he puts to his lips. The Dark Lord must have plans for tonight and I pray they do not involve me.

We wait. If there are any side effects or negative reactions, the Dark Lord will be affected right away.

After a few minutes, there appear to be none. With a nod, the Dark Lord indicates it is time to leave. We return to the transportation room and apparate back to the clearing in the woods. As soon as we appear, the Death Eaters are bowing and scraping to the Dark Lord. I look around and see no sign of Lucius. Whatever mission they are on has not been completed.

As surreptitiously as I can, I step aside and blend in with the others as the circle reforms around the Dark Lord. A word is whispered to Pettigrew who signals to one of the Death Eaters in the circle. The Death Eater bows and apparates away. Ten minutes pass and the Death Eater returns with a young man in a hooded robe. The robe is red, indicating an initiate who has fasted and gone through the cleansing rituals. I cannot tell who it is.

"_Who comes before the Circle of True Believers?" _calls the Dark Lord, standing before the altar in the firelight. He radiates magic and power.

Following the ritual, the sponsor responds; "I am a Death Eater, sworn to the service of Voldemort, Lord of the Way of Darkness.

"_Who accompanies you?"_

"A supplicant who has seen the Path to True Power in the service of the Dark Lord," responds the sponsor.

"_Do you stand as sponsor to this supplicant?"_

"I do, my Lord."

"_Then you and your supplicant may enter the Circle of True Believers."_

The Circle parts and supplicant and sponsor enter. The sponsor approaches first, with the supplicant to his left walking two paces behind him. The sponsor stops before the Dark Lord and drops to one knee. The supplicant drops to both knees and then lays face down on the ground. He holds out his ring to the sponsor, who kisses it reverently.

"_Rise, my loyal Death Eater_," hw bids. The sponsor complies and stands to the side.

"_All who come before the Lord of the Way of Darkness to seek admission to the Circle shall be judged for their worthiness," _he intones

"For this is the way of the Circle," we reply in unison.

"_Only few are called," _says the Dark Lord.

"For this is the way of the Circle," we reply.

"_Only the worthy are admitted."_

"For this is the way of the Circle."

"_Stand before your Lord. Stand before those you would call your brothers and sisters and be judged."_

"For this is the way of the Circle."

Our words stop as the supplicant rises.

Voldemort begins the series of statements. The supplicant is expected to give memorized responses as coached by his sponsor.

"_Magic is given only to the chosen ones."_

"It is a gift of the gods," replies the supplicant.

I recognize this voice. Marcus Flint is about to become a Death Eater. I knew the lure of power would draw him in sooner or later.

"_The Way of the Dark Wizard is the True Way."_

"It is the only path to Enlightenment," responds the supplicant.

"_The Lord of the Way of Darkness is the Voice of Power."_

"He is blessed with the Knowledge of Truth."

"_To understand the Darkness is to wield Power."_

"Only those who listen to the Voice of the Way shall wield such Power."

"_Do you seek to wield True Power?"_

"I do."

"_I am Lord Voldemort. I am the Voice of the Way and will lead you through the Paths of Darkness to True Power."_

"I humbly beg you to show me the Way."

"_Will you swear fealty to me?"_

"I will swear fealty to you as my liege Lord."

"_Supplicant, raise your head and meet the eyes of your Lord."_

Flint lifts his head. The Dark Lord reaches up and lowers the hood of Flint's robes.

"_Legilimens."_

He probes Flint's mind. He will sift through ever memory, probe for every significant event, look for every weakness or hint of disloyalty. It will hurt. I remember how it was. Minutes pass. The Dark Lord releases Flint. The young man collapses on the ground. He is given a moment to recover and is allowed to rise to his knees.

"_Do you pledge your loyalty to me?"_

"I do."

"_Do you pledge your service to me in all things?"_

"I do."

"_Will you obey my word in thought and deed without hesitation or reservation?"_

"I will."

"_Do you accept me as your Lord and Master from this hour until the moment of your death?"_

"I do. My life is yours, Master."

"_Will you pledge yourself to the True Way and the cleansing of the Wizarding World that we may attain the purity and the strength of True Power?"_

"I do."

"_Will you pledge your loyalty to the Brothers and Sisters of the Circle, the Death Eaters who are the arm of justice of the True Way?"_

"I do."

"_You have been judged worthy and pledged your service to your Lord and to the Circle. I bid you rise."_

Flint gets to his feet and stands before the Dark Lord. His sponsor bows to the Master and stands behind Flint.

"_All those loyal to the Way carry the Morsmordre as the symbol of fealty and the oaths spoken before the Circle."_

"I humbly request the honor of the Morsmordre."

"_The Morsmordre shall be granted."_

The sponsor reaches around Flint's neck and takes the clasp of the red robe in his hands to release it. Unclasped, the sponsor draws the robe down Flint's shoulders and drops it to the ground. Flint is naked before the Dark Lord and the Circle. His bare skin gleams with the magical anointing oils his sponsor applied to his body before the ceremony.

The Dark Lord reaches out and takes Flint's left wrist. He holds his wand above it and whispers words no one can hear. Flint writhes and screams as the Dark Mark takes shape on his arm. He is panting when the initial agony passes. His sponsor takes him by the shoulders and walks him to the altar. Flint does not realize what is about to happen.

His sponsor orders Flint to kneel on the altar. The young man hesitates for a moment, confused by the request and uncomfortable with his nudity in front of the Circle of Death Eaters. He is unsure, but complies. I wonder if he realizes how carefully the height of the altar is manipulated to put the supplicant in exactly the right position for the Dark Lord's use?

As soon as Flint kneels, the sponsor waves his wand and invisible bindings take hold of Flint's body and chivvy him into position. His legs are spread, he is resting on his forearms with his head down, and his arse is poised. If Flint has not figured out what is about to happen, he is even more stupid than I thought.

The Dark Lord moves into position behind Flint. There is a rustling of his robes and I will know shortly whether or not the potion worked.

"_It is your duty to serve your Lord in all things. Do you accept your duty in all ways? Do you accept the Mystical Union with your Lord?"_

His voice trembles as he answers.

"I do."

"_Then receive your Lord," thunders Voldemort._

From the angle where I stand and the way in which the Dark Lord's robes shield the activity at the altar, I cannot see the actual invasion. Flint's shout of pain and the movement of Riddle's hips indicate the potion is working. The Dark Lord is raping his new Death Eater.

Welcome to the club.

We stand quietly, waiting for the Dark Lord to finish. After Flint's body receives the Dark Lord's semen, the Dark Mark will be activated. His new Master will be able to summon him and impose discipline by sending pain through the Mark.

Voldemort is pumping hard. He pauses for a moment, his shoulders shake, and he leans against Flint's buttocks. He has spilled himself. The Dark Lord catches his breath and withdraws, adjusting his robes.

Flint cannot move. His arse is still in the air. I can see blood and something else running down his leg.

The Dark Lord moves back to his throne and sits.

The sponsor releases the body bind and Flint collapses on the altar. The sponsor waves his wand again, probably with an _Ennervate _to help revive the newest Death Eater. Flint gingerly works his way off the altar. The sponsor helps him to put on the black robes of the Death Eater and escorts him to Voldemort.

Voldemort rises and Flint drops to one knee before him. The Dark Lord holds out his hand and Flint kisses the ring, paying homage to his rapist.

"_Rise, Death Eater," _instructs Voldemort.

Flint rises. Voldemort completes the robing by placing the silver Death Eater's mask on his face. It magically molds to his features. Voldemort places his hands on Flint's shoulders and turns him around so he faces the Circle.

"_Behold, members of the Circle of the True Way. Behold your new brother!"_ announces Voldemort.

There is thunderous applause to welcome the newcomer. I wonder if anyone else is thinking 'better him than me?'

There will be a period of informal fellowship now that the ritual is over. The Death Eaters Circle breaks so the newcomer may be welcomed and his sponsor congratulated. The Dark Lord is relaxing on his throne when he summons me. I drop to one knee before him.

"I am pleased with the results of your brewing, Severus," says the Dark Lord. "The potion has worked to restore the Mystical Union to the Death Eaters."

"For which we are grateful to you, my Lord," I reply. "It is good to see a new Death Eater initiated tonight."

"Indeed," he responds. "Flint's sponsor may have been Crenshaw, but he is a product of Slytherin and your influence. He has potential to be a credit to your leadership."

"You honor me with such words, Master."

I would actually prefer that you burst into flames and die a slow and horrible death, Master.

We are interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming through the woods. The task force is returning.

The Circle reforms and Voldemort rises from his throne. Lucius has returned along with five of his six team members. There is no sign of a woman prisoner.

Lucius drops to his knees before Voldemort. He looks battered. The other team members follow behind him and kneel.

"Where is your prisoner?" demands the Dark Lord.

"We were unable to secure the prisoner, my Lord," responds Lucius.

"Explain," he hisses.

"We sighted her when she left St. Mungo's," answers Lucius. "The trap was set and O'Malley was to grab her and portkey away. Somehow, she recognized O'Malley and hexed her with a Body Bind. The rest of the team moved forward to seize the target when she ducked behind some crates piled in the alley and fired off a series of hexes to keep us from getting near.

"The Mediwitch Pomfrey must carry some sort of signal with her. In an instant, Dumbledore was there and firing at us. Belson was hit and bled out. I was setting up wards to keep them from escaping, hoping to capture both of them. Dumbledore must have had a portkey on him. I was not fast enough."

The Dark Lord's red eyes are glowing, always a bad sign.

"A team of seven Death Eaters failed to capture one woman?" His voice was soft and full of rage. "You allowed her to summon Dumbledore? You had both of them cornered and were too slow to set up wards to keep them from escaping?" The pitch of his voice is getting higher, the simmer coming to a boil.

"My greatest enemy and his woman were there at your hands and you allowed them to get away?"

Sparks are forming around him as his rage sends spurts of wild magic shooting out of his body.

"You dare return to me with empty hands?"

Lucius prostrates himself on the ground, groveling before Voldemort. To answer would simply provoke him more.

"Dumbledore has use of a maiden brewer. I have traveled in his mind and your brother Severus does not know this or this person's identity. Mediwitch Pomfrey is the brewer's contact. You were sent to retrieve the woman that I might obtain the information I need to lay hands on Dumbledore's brewer."

It all comes together in my head. This is the piece of information Jean lacked to identify the commonality in the missing witches. By Salazar's beard, the Dark Lord knows there is a maiden brewer and he has been searching for her. He took those women because they might be virgins and capable of brewing a potion for him.

That is why he sent Lucius to kidnap Poppy. She is Hermione's intermediary with St. Mungo's. Someone at St. Mungo's has betrayed this information to Voldemort.

Who betrayed Poppy? What potion does the Dark Lord want?

Thank Merlin that Lucius is secretly working for the Order or there might be Death Eaters on their way to Chicago, even now.

Voldemort is screaming.

"You have failed me, Lucius. You have failed me over and over and over."

His voice drops to a hiss.

"_Crucio_."

Lucius writhes on the ground.

"_Crucio_."

The screams begin.

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Author's notes

I intended for Chapter 75 to be brutal and controversial. My vision of this Lord Voldemort makes him the equivalent of a religious cult leader. Much like Jim Jones of Jonestown, David Koresh of Branch Davidian, or Werner Erhardt of EST, I view him as charismatic and sociopathic. He has the charm and brilliance to entice followers in and the will and lack of conscience to use them in any way he sees fit.

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By the time Chapter 76 is posted, _Deathly Hallows_ will have been released in English-speaking countries. I suspect anybody who is reading _Looking for Magic_ holds a particular fondness for Severus Snape. Please rest assured that no matter what JKR may do to him in her story, he will continue on in this and many other fanfiction stories. By definition, anything we write falls under the category of Alternative Universe to JKR's canon. We'll simply dust him off, clean him up, administer healing potions as necessary and put him back to work. That goes for any other characters that might have fates that don't fit in with what we readers and writers have in mind. JKR created the universe, for which we all thank her profusely. However, there are an infinite number of ways for the characters' stories to play out and we intend to explore all of them.

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Thank you to all my reviewers: Lady-Daine, LadyLibraSnake89, TofuLove, Em, Starbridge, Heidi191976, SpSt, EllynS, Madamsnape78, Keske, LaVamipiresa, Evil-Mastermind666, Princessfiona, Amsev, Imbyrri, Erytha, MMADfan, Not so Chicken Little, Broken2nite, Rinny08, Inkd and Jabbd, Maddie50, Squeaker19450, Trulyamused, Droxy, Sunsethill, Jade2099, Tahri, Duj, Nirtak.Enaile, Oscarxena, Shiverrus, Arctic Dragon, Notwritten, Angel-65, Excessivelyperky, Squiggles.Candi, Kirien, Andi-Scribbles, Sweety-Pie545, FarmerLiz, SlytherinTwinCC, Jocemum, Lady Slone, Tranquility, Koliber, Nottbook, Ebbe04, Marble Meadow, Lipasnape, Nelygirl, Jadams9804, Lyndi578, Remus R Us, Danielle, T wrecks, Darque Hart, Dolphindreamer, Die-sama, Nebrets, MollysSister, o0morgana0o, Daisy, Latinachikita, AnokiNantaras and Nutters4potter.


	76. Chapter 76

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

This story completely and happily ignores all events taking place in _The Half Blood Prince_ and _The Deathly Hallows_. For the sake of any readers who might not have had the opportunity to read _Deathly Hallows_, please avoid putting any spoilers into reviews. There are a number of regular readers who come from countries where it hasn't been released, yet.

Thank you to Julia for critiquing this chapter. Did you know that Katyes has translated 51 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German?

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Severus  
May 3rd, 1999

I am holding Lucius as carefully as I can. The spasms come in violent waves and it is difficult to hold onto him. The portkey will bring us to the manor.

We materialize just outside the wards. I lay him on the ground and do a Mobilicorpus, moving him ahead of me as I hurry towards the house. It takes longer to arrive at the entrance than I am comfortable with, but at least I am greeted by a house elf. The creature twitches with concern at the arrival of the master of the house in such a condition.

I do not bother with names.

"Fetch your mistress immediately and then find Pudding," I shout at him. There is no time for nonsense."

The elf vanishes.

Pudding appears. He sees his master floating above him and flings open the doors. I move Lucius inside to see Narcissa rushing towards us, tightening the belt of her robe as she runs.

"How bad, Severus?" she asks.

"Six rounds from the Dark Lord."

Narcissa blanches. Lucius has been severely punished.

"Let's get him up to the bedroom," she orders.

"No," I tell her. "There is another way, a new treatment. We need to get him into a bath of cold water. It is a secret, something I worked on recently."

"Cold water?" Narcissa asks in confusion.

"Take my word for it," I tell her. "Narcissa, I must leave to get the potions I need for the treatment. Take Lucius upstairs. Get him undressed and have the elves prepare the tub and set the water temperature to 70 degrees. There are potions I must give him and add to the water before we put him in it. Find something to wear that covers you from neck to toes and will allow you to maneuver in the water." I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Take over the levitation and I will be back as quickly as I can."

"Hurry, Severus," urges Narcissa as she takes over the Mobilicorpus.

I run out of the door and apparate the moment I am past the wards. In an instant, I am at headquarters and dash to the door, give the password and rush into the kitchen.

"Accio cold immersion kit!" I shout. "Lupin, get your arse down here."

I hear noise from the parlor. Potter rushes in, wand at the ready.

"What the hell is going on, Snape?" he hollers back, obviously irritated as he ducks his head to avoid the box flying through the air.

I reach out and catch the Cruciatus treatment kit.

"Where is Lupin?" I ask.

"I don't know," replies Potter, scratching his head. "I just got off duty and arrived here five minutes ago. He and Ron were supposed to be here fixing dinner. It's Dobby's night off." Potter waves his hand at the table and stove. There are dishes out and evidence of a half-prepared meal. "They must have been interrupted and left in the middle of everything."

"I have no time to explain everything to you. I need you to get to Lupin, McGonagall, or Dumbledore and tell them what has happened."

Potter straightens up and pays attention.

"I just came from a Death Eater meeting. A task force was sent out to kidnap Madam Pomfrey from St. Mungo's."

Potter opens his mouth to interrupt. I hold up my hand to stop him.

"The task force failed. They came back empty handed. Madam Pomfrey is poor at apparition and always uses a portkey. I do not know why she failed to use it this time. She always wears a charmed bracelet that allows her to signal her location to the Headmaster if she is in danger.

"According to Lucius Malfoy, who led the task force, the Headmaster showed up and he and Poppy fought off the Death Eaters long enough to portkey away."

"There is more. The Dark Lord made reference to a secret Death Eater at St. Mungo's who lured Madam Pomfrey into the trap. He knows that she is the intermediary between St. Mungo's and a maiden brewer."

"The Dark Lord knows about Hermione?" gasps Potter.

"Not by name," I reply, tucking the cold immersion kit into the pocket of my robes. "When you speak to Dumbledore or one of the others, tell them to contact Jean Lamb immediately. She has been investigating the disappearance of several witches. It is probable that the Dark Lord has been searching for a maiden brewer for at least a year."

Potter turns pale.

"Shit," he says, echoing my sentiments exactly. "Do you think he has any idea that it could be Hermione?"

"I do not believe he could have made the connection to Hermione, but I cannot be certain. You must determine if Hermione is safe. Tell Dumbledore that our ally in the United States must be contacted immediately to secure her situation. They must do so subtly so Draco Malfoy does not realize what is going on. If he sees something so obviously suspicious, he will be obligated to notify the Dark Lord."

"Who got Crucioed, Professor?" asks Potter.

"Lucius Malfoy," I reply.

Potter looks at me with disbelief.

"You can't use the treatment on him," he sputters, "He's the enemy."

"Lucius Malfoy is the reason that Poppy Pomfrey is alive and untortured right now. Malfoy took six rounds of Crucio from the Dark Lord because he deliberately stalled long enough to let her get away with Albus." I whirl around and head for the kitchen door.

"Get a move on, Potter," I order. "No doubt Albus and Poppy portkeyed to Hogwarts. They must have alerted Lupin and Weasley who are most likely there too. Hermione is the one who is in danger, now. Neither you nor Bill should go anywhere near her. That could potentially show our hand to the Dark Lord and put her in more danger. Let our ally provide her with security."

"How can I reach you when I find out?" asks Potter, following me out the door.

"If Hermione is missing, we will need to mobilize the Order. I do not know the specific reason why the Dark Lord wants use of a maiden brewer, but he was willing to go to great lengths to find one and keep it secret from me. I have brewed medicinal potions for him the last two days and there may be another one he wants that must be maiden brewed."

I pick up a small stone from the grass by the bushes and turn it into a portkey. "If she is missing, use this and say 'Severus sent me'. It will take you to Malfoy Manor and get you past the wards. Ask for a house-elf named Pudding who will find me." I toss it to Potter who catches it neatly.

"I'll take care of it, Professor," replies Potter before he apparates away. I vanish right after he does.

-----------------------

In no more than five minutes I am out of breath and at the door of Malfoy Manor. The same nameless elf admits me and I run in the general direction of the master bedroom. Pudding is in the hallway and points me in the right direction.

I am bent over with a stitch in my side. Honestly, would it be the end of the world if the wards were down just once so I could have apparated upstairs? Catching my breath, I hurry into the bedroom. Narcissa startles as she sees me come in the door. Lucius is lying in the middle of a huge bed, spasms shaking his body. Narcissa is sitting at the end of the bed, pale and frightened.

"Severus," says Narcissa, rising from the bed and looking at me in a panic, "Do you have the treatment?"

"I do," I reply holding out the box. "Do the elves have the bath ready?"

"Pudding took care of it," she answers. Narcissa takes my arm and whispers, "I've never seen it this bad before. Are you sure this will work?"

"It worked for me," I assure her as I open the box and set the contents on the bureau.

----------------

Lucius is back in bed and dozing comfortably from the muscle relaxants in the internal potion. Narcissa has gone to her dressing room to change out of the t-shirt and leotard she wore in the water. Pudding is moving about the room, setting things to rights.

I am sitting beside the bed and realize that I am tapping my foot on the floor. I stop that immediately. It will not do to have anyone realize that I am anxious to leave. I must get back to Hogwarts and find out what is going on. It has now been 45 minutes since I spoke to Potter. I cannot relax until I know Hermione is safe. At least Potter has not shown up at the Manor, so it may be that she is fine.

"I do not believe that I have ever been so cold in my life," murmurs Lucius from beneath the blankets. He is looking at me sleepily.

"Are you cold now?" I used a warming charm on him as soon as we removed him from the water. He tolerated it without the reaction Hermione had.

"I am warming up," he replies. Lucius looks at me searchingly and mumbles, "Will they realize I delayed setting up the wards so they could escape?"

"Are you asking if Dumbledore will realize it? In his case, almost certainly. I will make sure he knows it if he did not realize it at the time. As for the Dark Lord, I do not believe he understood your delay was deliberate. He punished you for failing to do something he wanted badly, not for disloyalty. Is there any possibility your team realized what you were doing?"

"I do not think so," murmurs Lucius. "They were too busy defending themselves against Dumbledore. He is a magnificent duelist for a man well into his second century."

Narcissa joins us, dressed in an exquisite day gown. She sits on the edge of the bed and pats what is probably Lucius' shoulder underneath layers of blankets.

"How is the pain?" she asks both of us.

"No pain," answers Lucius, "and no spasms, either. This treatment works. No wonder you have kept it a secret."

"Necessity," I reply. "Even though you may feel fine, for the next week you must behave as if you are recovering from severe Crucio. No one must guess the Order has a treatment."

"We can play our parts," answers Narcissa with no small hint of sarcasm in her voice, "having been through this sort of thing before."

I need answers to questions that have been forming in my mind ever since I arrived at the Circle this evening.

"Narcissa," I say gently, "Lucius and I need to talk about some things that happened tonight. You must not hear our discussion."

"I understand," she replies. "I will leave you for five minutes and no more." She rises and leaves.

"Do you know the name of the woman was who was sacrificed tonight?" I ask Lucius.

"Rutherford's daughter by his mistress," he answers. "The girl was no more than nineteen. He called her Josette. I have never seen anything more disgusting than Rutherford's actions tonight. To give his own child over to McNair and the Dark Lord with his blessings and then to stand there and watch…."

"I did not know he had a daughter."

"She was schooled at Bentley," replies Lucius.

I nod in recognition. I never met the girl, but Bentley Academy is one of the lesser wizarding schools in Britain. It has about fifty pupils and provides a minimally acceptable wizarding education up to O.W.L. level. It is not surprising that an illegitimate daughter would attend such a school. Among Purebloods, it would be considered poor taste to send her to Hogwarts along with one's own legitimate children.

"Do you know why the Dark Lord wants to find a maiden brewer?"

"I do not know why he wants one," says Lucius. "I assumed it was to brew some sort of healing potion he needs. That is the only kind of potion a virgin is needed for, is it not?"

"Yes," I answer. "Maiden brewers are only needed for certain types of medical potions. Virgin's blood can be used in a variety of offensive potions, but any virgin will do. If he is looking for a maiden brewer, it must be to brew a specific potion."

"The Dark Lord found out St. Mungo's has access to a maiden brewer, but her identity is a secret," says Lucius, who is obviously getting drowsy. "A healer at St. Mungo's is a secret Death Eater. He told the Dark Lord that Pomfrey is the connection to the maiden brewer. The Dark Lord concluded it is no one at Hogwarts now or you would know about it. He thinks it must be a former student or someone from Beauxbatons."

"Is that why the Potions apprentice was taken?"

"I do not know," he murmurs, half asleep. "The apprentice did not turn out to be a virgin. Do not know what happened to her…."

Lucius is asleep.

The Dark Lord is looking for a maiden brewer to concoct a healing potion for him. He found the Dark potion I brewed for him in a book I did not believe existed. He could have found something else in that book, or in another, that he believes will help him. Riddle has access to the Darkest tomes in existence. I cannot think of any other reason he would go to such lengths to find one single virgin, a virgin capable of brewing complex potions.

I must speak to Albus immediately.

Narcissa has returned. She looks tired and worried. I rise and join her at the doorway. I take both her hands in mine and look into her eyes. "He will be fine," I assure her.

She looks past me to the sleeping form of her husband. "We cannot take much more of this, Severus," she whispers, "It is only a matter of time before the Dark Lord kills him."

"I know," I reply. I cannot tell her anything to make her think otherwise. "At this moment, I think he is safe. The Dark Lord believes Lucius failed on a mission, nothing more. Both of you should keep to the house for the next week. Let it be known Lucius was hurt badly enough that he is an invalid."

"We can do that," she answers.

"In the box, you will find vials of a muscle relaxant and instructions for how often they should be taken. Lucius will sleep the rest of the night and most of tomorrow. He may feel chilled, but that is a normal result for this treatment and should fade in about a month. Use warming charms to keep him comfortable."

"Thank you," she whispers, a quaver in her voice. She puts her arms around me and starts to cry. I pat her rather awkwardly. I have never been comfortable around women when they cry. She sniffles and raises her head. I offer her a handkerchief, which she accepts. She composes herself.

"I feel better, now," she says, smiling bravely. She looks up at me. "I know you need to get back to Hogwarts. Go ahead and take care of what you need to do."

"Floo me if Lucius has any problems."

"I will."

One quick hug and she releases me.

-----------------------

In fifteen minutes, I am riding the staircase up to Albus' office. It is 2 am and there is still much to do before I can seek out my bed. First on the list is to ensure Hermione is secure.

Minerva, Bill, and Remus are waiting for me. They look as worn out as I feel. I hear a cough and am astonished to see Chester Sommersby sitting in one of the chairs by Albus' desk. Jean Smith is pacing in front of the fireplace and Nymphadora Tonks is waving her hands and talking to her.

"Hermione is safe," says Bill, looking at me intensely before I have a chance to ask. "Harry relayed your message to us and I contacted Schuler's people via a telephone number we've been given. They checked immediately and found her at the apartment. His security people have Hermione under surveillance. She's been ordered to fake being sick and stay at home until we tell them otherwise. If the wards around the building are triggered or the security people see anything suspicious, they will apparate in and take Hermione to a secret location. I ordered Harry and Ron to go back to Headquarters and stay there."

I nod my thanks to Bill, unwilling to verbalize a response in front of others.

"I do not believe the Dark Lord has her on his list of possible maiden brewers, but it is better to be sure she is safe," I reply and change the subject. "I did not see the body, but I have been given to understand the girl killed tonight was Josette, Edmund Rutherford's daughter by his mistress. She was a former student at Bentley."

"Josette Colson is on the list of missing women," says Jean, pulling the parchment from the pocket of her robes. "She has been missing since October of last year when she disappeared after leaving her job at a shop on Diagon Alley. The identity of her father is listed as unknown on her birth certificate. There was speculation that her mother was mistress of a wealthy man."

"Edmund Rutherford is a wealthy man," I reply, "and unremittingly evil."

"Why was she killed?" asks Minerva.

"The Dark Lord required an especially Dark potion to address his impotence."

Jean looks horrified. "Impotence? Is it the one requiring a virgin's first blood?"

I nod as I pour myself a cup of tea. The implication is sinking in as I see the facial expressions of the others in the room.

"She was raped before they killed her?" asks Bill.

There is no need for me to answer. He is simply confirming what he already knows.

"So," says Chester, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "the girl was raped in front of her father and a group of Death Eaters so that she was traumatized enough to produce the quality of blood needed to make a potion which will allow Tom Riddle to get it up?"

"Yes," I reply with a regretful sigh.

"And she was murdered afterwards and the evidence disposed of?" he continues, dispassionately.

"Yes. It appears the remains were eaten by Nagini."

"Were you required to make the potion?"

"Yes."

"Did the potion work?"

"Yes. Marcus Flint was initiated as a Death Eater tonight." I slump down into a chair.

Chester is eyeing me carefully. "Could you have stopped or sabotaged anything that happened tonight?"

I consider his question. The rape and murder happened before I arrived. The Dark Lord deliberately kept me uninformed about his research into the impotence potion. He watched me at every step of the brewing process. There was no opportunity to sabotage the potion. Even Lucius did not know the Dark Lord wanted Poppy kidnapped before tonight.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "There is nothing I could have done to prevent any of the events that took place tonight. I had no idea any of this was planned."

"You did not know Riddle intended to snatch Poppy Pomfrey?" asks Chester, scrutinizing me.

I am nothing less than irate when I answer. "Absolutely not."

"Then stop blaming yourself," he says quietly.

Merlin's beard, he understands.

"There is something else you need to know, Severus," says Minerva, taking the chair next to mine. "Poppy and Albus portkeyed here to Hogwarts when they escaped the Death Eater attack. They were a bit bruised and battered, but appeared fine. We were here discussing what happened when Albus collapsed." Minerva looks me in the eye.

"Albus has had a stroke."

"A stroke?" I am on my feet immediately. "How bad?"

"Poppy says it was a mild stroke," replies Minerva reassuringly, placing her hand on my arm. "Of course she was here when it happened and treated him immediately."

"Albus had a stroke sometime in the 1970's as I recall," adds Chester, "It was kept quiet because of the Dark Lord. Only a few of us knew about it and he recovered completely."

"Ever since, Poppy has kept the necessary potions on hand in case they were needed," explains Minerva. "She is treating him in his quarters. It was only a few hours ago, so we do not know the long-term effects, but Poppy seemed optimistic she had things under control. She was able to identify the affected blood vessel in his brain and do the necessary repairs. I know she will want to talk to you about the specifics of what happened and what potions he will need in the future."

Hell and damnation. Sometimes I forget how old Albus is. The stress of the attempted kidnapping combined with fighting back against a Death Eater task force must have caused it. He might aggravate the hell out of me at times, but I do care about him.

I realize I am pacing in front of the fireplace.

"The Dark Lord must not learn of this."

"Absolutely not," confirms Chester. "Your skills as an Occlumens are stronger than his skills as a Legilimens. If that were not the case, you would have been caught twenty years ago. It is safe for you to know this, Severus. You will be capable of keeping him from finding out."

"Of course Severus can keep him out," says Minerva brusquely. "And there is every reason to believe Albus will survive this. If he has any lasting effects from this stroke, we will know in a few days. As far as the public is concerned, he will simply be recovering from a hit he took in the Death Eater attack."

I stop in my pacing as I realize there is another important issue to discuss.

"The Dark Lord knew Poppy was at St. Mungo's. He sent Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eater team to ambush her there and bring her to him. He boasted of a secret Death Eater inside the hospital who was an informant. We have to determine who that informant is. Why was Poppy there?"

"Severus, would you please sit down," says Minerva. "All this pacing is making me tired."

I stop pacing, but I cannot sit down. The thoughts racing through my mind are too important.

"Poppy was delivering one of Hermione's potions to her contact at St. Mungo's," says Bill. "While I was visiting Hermione in Chicago, an owl arrived with a box of potion ingredients and a letter from Poppy making a special request. She said Healer Spence had passed on a request from Ellen Smith and another Healer to make two maiden brewed potions to treat a child with a terminal brain tumor."

"You have access to a maiden brewer?" asks Jean, astonished. "Who is this Hermione?"

"Hermione Granger is one of Harry's friends and a member of the Order," answers Remus. "She saved my life last autumn when she and Albus brewed a potion that drew a poison out of my system. Her portion had to be maiden brewed."

"She is in Chicago," adds Minerva. "She is attending Avalon College and pursuing a degree in Potions. She started brewing fertility potions for St. Mungo's a few months ago, using Poppy as a go-between to keep her own identity a secret."

"From what I have learned tonight," I comment, "The Dark Lord was already looking for a maiden brewer long before Hermione started selling her potions to St. Mungo's." I turn and look at Jean. "I wonder if the other women on your list disappeared because he thought they might be capable of producing a maiden brewed potion?"

"The other women on the list are either old or young and none in between," Jean remarks, speculatively. "None of them are married and the older ones were reclusive. Any of them would be more likely to be a virgin than other women of their age group. It is possible the Dark Lord thought one of them might be capable of being a maiden brewer."

"Or, he might have needed a potion ingredient from them," says Miss Tonks, wincing.

I nod in reply. There is nothing I wish to say about that.

"He would not have allowed the Morsmordre to be cast because it would have made the pattern within the disappearances too obvious," says Jean. "The public would have been alerted that the Death Eaters were kidnapping women and would have taken precautions. This way, no one spotted the pattern for a year."

"We will be more likely to find the answers to these questions if we can determine the identity of the secret Death Eater at St. Mungo's," I interrupt. "Given this ambush, we _must_ find that Death Eater."

"Bill," says Jean, "You said Hermione received a letter from Poppy requesting she brew a potion for a patient being treated by Ellen Smith?"

"Ellen Smith and another unnamed Healer," replies Bill, looking worried. "The original letter came to Poppy from Healer Spence, her regular contact at St. Mungo's. Poppy didn't send the original letter because she was concerned he might have put a tracking charm on it. Spence has been trying to determine Hermione's identity so he could contract with her directly or recruit her for St. Mungo's staff."

"That makes him our prime suspect," announces Tonks, glancing at me.

"We need to check out Healer Spence and find out who the unnamed Healer is," says Jean. "We can't assume anything. We'll need to question Ellen Smith, too."

"Ellen is an Order member," comments Bill. "Why wouldn't she go directly to Hermione and ask her to brew the potion?"

"Does she even know that Hermione is a maiden brewer?" I ask. "Has the subject come up when she has been present?"

Remus and I look at each other. We have both been at every meeting when Ellen was present.

"She couldn't possibly know that Hermione is a maiden brewer," says Remus. "We've never discussed it in front of her at any point that I can remember."

"When Poppy is done treating Albus," says Tonks, "We need her to get that letter for us."

"Agreed," replies Jean, nodding to Tonks. "I think we have our work cut out for us. Are you off duty this morning?"

"I'm off until Monday night," she replies. "We'll start with Healer Spence and then we'll go and get Ellen Smith. Once we have the name of the other Healer, we'll check him out, too."

"Tonks and I are going to be busy checking out our suspects," explains Jean. "We'll be in and out of headquarters all day. There are too many of us here at Hogwarts and we need to get out before someone realizes that something is going on."

Minerva rises and joins the other two women at the fireplace.

"Are you saying you consider Ellen Smith a suspect?" she demands, giving Jean a withering look.

Jean is petite compared to Minerva, but obviously not the least bit intimidated by her former teacher and colleague. She puts her hands on her hips and looks up at Minerva with a very professional expression.

"I most certainly do," she says, confidently. "We have three possible suspects in this business and I intend to talk to each one of them. If Tonks and I are given reason to believe any one of them is our Death Eater, I intend to have that suspect in a Body Bind and under the influence of Veritaserum so fast it will make their head spin. There are eight missing women and a kidnapping attempt that would have resulted in Poppy Pomfrey's death. I'm not leaving any stone unturned, no matter who crawls out from under it."

Minerva looks away, chastened.

"Very well," she says, "Please remember that Ellen has been an ally every bit as long as you have. I am confident that after you question her, you will find everything in order. Do not make an enemy of her. Albus mishandled your situation and almost made an enemy of you. Do not repeat his mistake."

"Point taken," says Jean.

I cannot fathom how Ellen could possibly be a Death Eater, but Jean is right in that everyone's story must be investigated.

"We'll be gone for a while and will let you know what's going on by message Patronus," says Tonks to Remus.

"I have unregistered and undetectable Veritaserum available," I quietly inform Jean. "It is my own formulation. However, I will insist on being present if it is to be used."

Jean smiles and gives me a quick shot to the arm of the type she used to refer to as a "noogie". I refrain from wincing and cross my arms and do my best to look menacing.

"I knew I could count on you, Snape," she says.

"We'll keep in touch," calls Tonks as the two women depart.

"We have one more issue to discuss," says Chester, "and that is Hermione Granger."

I roll my eyes and sit down. Chester is staring at me again with those haunting eyes of his. The man is unnerving.

"So," says Chester, "Voldemort is looking for a maiden brewer. He knows that Poppy Pomfrey is connected to one and decided to try and kidnap her to get the information."

"Correct," I reply. "I do not know why he is looking for a maiden brewer. I can only assume it is to brew a healing potion of some sort. Maiden brewers are only required for certain medicinal potions."

"We know it is not because of his impotence," clarifies Chester, "since that problem seems to have been addressed with the potion he required you to brew for him. How many doses?"

"I brewed enough for about one hundred doses. The Dark Lord was there the whole time, watching every move I made. He took no chances there might be any tampering. The potion requires adding a small amount of the user's blood. The Dark Lord did that part himself and cleaned everything that had any of his blood on it. I had no opportunity to steal even a drop."

"That is not surprising," replies Chester. "Riddle is not going to take any risks or make mistakes with his own blood."

"I will research potions requiring the use of a maiden brewer to see if I can determine what he wants made."

"A needle in a haystack," dismisses Chester with a wave of his hand. "There are hundreds of potions for dozens of medical conditions that require a maiden brewer. You could identify all of them and still not know which one he wants. But, we do not need to know why he wants a maiden brewer to know every unmarried female under the age of thirty who is capable of brewing a complex potion is in danger until the bastard finds what he wants."

"Is there anything we can do about that?" asks Bill. "Couldn't Riddle just take a fifteen year old girl and use the Imperius curse to get her to brew for him?"

"Riddle would have to supervise the girl," I reply. "There are no female Death Eaters I know of who have the capability of supervising the brewing of a difficult potion. The presence of a male in the room while the brewing goes on would contaminate the potion. The Imperius curse would not give a novice the necessary skills to make a complex potion. However, a woman possessing the necessary skills could be Imperioed and brew whatever the Dark Lord wants."

"Then the only way to protect all the potential victims is to give Riddle what he wants," says Chester, "without giving him Hermione Granger."

"Chester," says Minerva, exasperated "could you please be a bit less obscure about what you mean?"

Chester looks around the room. "It is actually quite simple. Severus must tell Riddle that Hermione Granger is the Order's maiden brewer."

I carefully consider thrashing a very old man for suggesting such a thing. The very thought makes my blood boil and it WILL NOT HAPPEN.

"Before Snape kills me outright for making the suggestion," says Chester, giving me an assessing look, "I suggest you tell Riddle only after the girl is no longer eligible to be a maiden brewer. I know nothing of the girl's personal life, but her safety and the safety of every potential victim lies in Miss Granger dispensing with her virginity as soon as possible."

_Oh._

That is something else entirely.

Remus looks at me speculatively, as do Bill and Minerva.

Will we ever have any privacy now that they know about our relationship?

"Then Severus can tell the Dark Lord that Albus kept the information from him," says Minerva.

"You could tell Riddle that Albus has deliberately been feeding you misinformation about Hermione's promiscuity in order to mislead the Dark Lord," adds Remus.

"You could be really furious about it, put a spin on it for your own advantage," suggests Bill.

I could be Crucioed within an inch of my life as Lucius was tonight. I shall have to think of a way to use this with the Dark Lord.

More importantly, I will have the moral obligation to have sex with Hermione. Her safety and the lives of other women are involved. This completely negates our plans to keep our hands off of each other until after the war.

I suppose I have done far less pleasant things in the name of duty. This is actually a duty I am eager to fulfill.

Hermione has made it clear she loves me and wants me. She will agree to this.

I must be very careful about the direction of my thoughts because a part of me is becoming increasingly eager to pursue this line of thinking.

"I must think about what I will tell the Dark Lord," I reply, dissembling. I need time to think and the middle of the night is not time for it.

"And it is very late," says Chester. "I suggest the light of day will help clarify our thinking on all of these issues. We will know more about Albus' condition in the morning. May I suggest we all retire and then reconvene at noon?"

Chester departs, but the other three remain. I notice that Minerva reinforces the silencing charm that has kept all of our discussions tonight secret from the portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts.

After exchanging an assortment of meaningful looks, the three of them decide to invade my personal space and crowd me so that the portraits cannot see any of us clearly enough to read our lips. Those busybody portraits have developed some very interesting skills over the years, much to the chagrin of those who have been caught out.

Minerva places her hand on my arm.

"If you will contact Hermione and explain what is going on, the three of us will make arrangements for the two of you to have complete privacy at headquarters," she says.

"If Hermione agrees, Monday evening from 6 pm until 8 am on Tuesday morning will give the two of you at least some time alone without any interruptions from Order members," says Bill.

"I'll make certain that Harry, Ron, and Dobby are gone for the night," says Remus. "I'll deal with them and make headquarters unavailable to anyone else but the two of you."

"I'll be your cover for the night," says Bill. "I'll let it be known that Hermione and I have a hot date. After the two of you are safely ensconced in headquarters, I can take Polyjuice and appear as you a couple of times during the evening. In the morning, I'll come to headquarters at 8 am. We'll return here to Hogwarts and stage a scene for you to see in front of Albus and Minerva where I tell them Hermione is no longer eligible to be a maiden brewer."

I am overwhelmed by the willingness of these three people to go to such great lengths so that Hermione and I can be together. They know I love her and that she loves me. These three friends…. That anyone would care….

Minerva is searching my face, a worried look on hers.

"Will you allow us to do this for both of you?" she asks.

If we were alone, I would embrace her.

"I." My voice catches and I clear my throat. I try again. "I would consider it a favor…." I say softly before my voice fails me again.

The three of them smile at me in a manner I would describe as fond. I prefer not to speak of this since I have no idea of what to say. I will either sound like a blathering fool or an ungrateful wretch, neither of which appeals to me.

Minerva pats my arm again and turns to remove the silencing charms. Remus departs through the fireplace and the rest of us work out way down the moving staircase and go our separate ways through the quiet halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night.

My pace picks up as I approach the dungeons.

My journal is waiting and I have an important letter to write.

---------------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers: Daisy, Lady Slone, Ebbe 04, Jade 2099, StormMasters, KarlaMarie, Lipasnape, Latinachikita, Heidi191976, Klschmidt, Tahri, Darque Hart, Madamesnape78, Notplainjane, Lyndie578, remus r us, Oscarxena, Miroku75, AJS, Andi-Scribbles, Sunsethill, Imbyrri, Droxy, Pure Girl, Danielle, Keske, Me613, Maddie50, Zirateb, Shishkeberry, Rinny08, hpfanwenday, Broken2nite, Lady-Daine, Sweety-Pie5445, Marble Meadow, Nutters4potter, Squiggles.Candi, Severessa, o0morgana0o, Arctic Dragon, notwritten, Quiet-mg, Betrayed Innocence, Angel-65, Duj, Princessfiona, Nina Sawdon, Explodingpool, Excessivelyperky, Lilsnape, Squeaker19450, EvilMastermind666, Koliber, Amsev, MollysSister, Erytha, Trulyamused, Arime Setta, Not so Chicken Little, Starbridge, SlytherinTwinCC, SpSt, Severelysnape, Colleen, Nirtak.Enaile, Deadly-neko, Martyjeannine, Teri, Bawetta, Loves-Kiss, Soul Chaser, Lauren, and Danielle.


	77. Chapter 77

I own nothing you recognize. It all belongs to JKR who allows us to play in her universe.

Thank you to Julia, who happened to know that grave robbing ended in Britain in the early 1800's instead of the late 1800's. She spared me an error in the story through her vast knowledge of a little bit of everything. Now, there is a superlative beta!

We do have some regular readers who live in countries where Deathly Hallows has not yet been published. I ask that reviewers not put obvious spoilers into reviews. I will happily express opinions and discuss things from Deathly Hallows in private messages (my e-mail is on my homepage at this website) and in review responses where they cannot be seen by others.

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May 3rd, 1999  
Hermione

I have been sitting here for hours staring and waiting for one of my journals to glow. I've written in all of them; Severus, Molly, Bill, Ron, and Harry's asking them to get back in touch with me and let me know what the hell is going on.

Laketha called and said that Bill had telephoned her. He asked that she put security in place around me. He told her that the Order didn't know for certain, but Death Eaters might come looking for me.

She reminded me that there are wards around the apartment building that will activate the instant someone with a Dark Mark steps onto the property. As soon as that alarm goes off at her security office, she will apparate directly into my apartment via a specially arranged opening in the wards. She said that Digital Magic's security agents can apparate through the anti-apparition wards and take me back out to a secured location.

Right now, there are agents watching the outside of the building. Laketha says they are listening with sound amplifying devices that use Muggle technology and magic so they'll know exactly where Draco is. Apparently the noise proofing spells can be penetrated by it. If Draco comes down to my apartment, they will come and get me.

That assumes that Voldemort would order Draco to bring me in.

Maybe moving into an apartment building with Draco as the landlord wasn't the best of all possible ideas.

In my initial adrenalin rush, I prepared to be evacuated. Poor Crooks is spelled asleep in his cat carrier at my feet. My pre-packed weekender bag is right next to him. My backup disks for my computer are in my bottomless backpack, along with my textbooks.

Of course, common sense is telling me now that if Voldemort has given the orders to pick up Hermione Granger, I won't be going to class tomorrow.

Its 9 pm, so Cindy won't wander in unless she's invited. Not that I would dare ask her to keep me company. She can't know anything about anything. She'd blurt it out to Draco the first time she sees him.

I'm a wreck. If I don't hear something soon, I am going to do something drastic. I don't know what that would be since I mustn't scream, pace up and down the hallway, or throw things. I've got a container of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream in the freezer. It might involve eating the whole pint.

Except that my stomach is churning and I might throw it up.

I think I'll get a stomach calming draught from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

I'm on my way and catch a glow out of the corner of my eye. It's the black journal, thank heaven. I grab it and open it up.

----------------------

_Dear Hermione_

_You may not see this until the morning. It has been a very busy evening and night here in Britain._

I'm here, Severus.

_Even better. Are you all right?_

I've been waiting anxiously to find out what is going on. Laketha called a little before 7 pm and said that her agents were on security alert around the building. She said that Bill telephoned her and told her that Death Eaters might be looking for me.

Are you okay?

_I am tired, but uninjured. A lot has happened and I need to tell you about it. I was summoned this evening and learned that the Dark Lord is searching for a maiden brewer. Apparently he has been looking for one for at least a year. An Order member who works for the Ministry noticed a pattern in the reports of witches who have gone missing in the last year. We know of eight witches who are missing. We believe they were taken at the order of the Dark Lord because they may have been virgins. _

Harry investigated the case of a missing nun in Ireland, Sister Kathleen Clancy. Was she one of them?

_Yes. Her name was on the list. All of the women were unmarried. The older ones were reclusive and had few attachments in the wizarding world. Most of the disappearances went unnoticed for a period of time. None of the disappearances were associated with the Death Eaters, because the Dark Mark was not cast._

Do you know what happened to them?

_None of them have been found. It is very likely that the Dark Lord tried to have them brew for him and discovered none had the skills to do it or were not eligible to do so in the first place. I suspect they are dead._

Oh, no. That's horrible. How did he find out about me?

_He does not know that you are a maiden brewer. He only knows that there is a maiden brewer out there somewhere. You began supplying St. Mungo's with maiden brewed fertility potions a few months ago. Apparently, there is a secret Death Eater at St. Mungo's who has been trying to find out who you are._

No one at St. Mungo's knows who I am.. Poppy is my intermediary and has kept my identity confidential. According to Poppy, St. Mungo's wanted to deal with me directly so they could try and recruit me for their staff. She said that if they knew who I was, some less scrupulous people on their staff might try to spell me into an antipathy towards sex so I would continue as a maiden brewer for the rest of my life.

_St. Mungo's could make a fortune if they had a maiden brewer on their staff. They could sell the excess potions to other hospitals all over the world for a huge profit._

Exactly. As a further protection, my payment for the potions goes directly into a special numbered Gringott's account so they can't get my name.

Poppy's contact there is Healer Spence. Could he be the Death Eater?

_Possibly. The Order is investigating that possibility. Bill told us about the letter and package you received from Poppy, asking that you brew two potions for a patient of Ellen Smith's who has a potentially terminal brain tumor. This whole business may have been a trap._

A trap?

_Poppy delivered the potions to St. Mungo's this evening. A Death Eater task force was sent to intercept her and bring her back to the Dark Lord. Do not panic, they did not succeed._

Dear God, is Poppy all right?

_She is unharmed. Poppy is not a licensed apparator, so she uses portkeys for travel. I have not seen Poppy, so I cannot tell you why she did not portkey away from the Death Eaters. She wears a bracelet that allows her to signal her location to Albus in an emergency. He showed up and between the two of them, they fought off the task force and portkeyed back to Hogwarts._

I am so glad I'm sitting down. This is horrible. It had to be a trap. Have you spoken to Ellen? I can't believe that she'd be part of any plot. They must have used inside information about her patient to set the trap.

_I have not spoken to Ellen. The task of locating those involved has been assigned to other Order members. There is a great deal we do not know. Nothing has been resolved, at this point. However, it brings up the issue of what to do to ensure the Dark Lord will stop looking for a maiden brewer._

I'll stop making maiden brewed potions immediately. I'll have Poppy tell them I'm out of the business.

_That may not be quite enough. I fear your private life became a topic of discussion at the end of all of the meetings tonight. Be assured, the only people who were in on the discussion were Remus, Bill, Minerva, myself, and Chester Sommersby. It was Sommersby who suggested that you become ineligible to make maiden brewed potions and that the Dark Lord be told that you were the Order's brewer._

Oh.

_I believe that was my reaction to his suggestion. Sommersby left immediately after making it. I said nothing, intending to contact you. I was then approached by Minerva, Bill, and Remus who offered to make arrangements for you and I to have undisturbed privacy at headquarters from 6 pm this evening until 8 am tomorrow._

Oh.

_This is not what you and I had planned. We had agreed not to pursue any intimacy beyond what we have experienced so far in order to avoid risking discovery by the Dark Lord. I fully intended to court you properly and openly after the conclusion of the war, if all goes well. However, the events of the last twenty-four hours have changed everything._

It has.

We can really be together tonight?

_We can, if it is what you want?_

Is it what you want?

_I do believe that I am the one who vowed to find a way to climb straight through our paired journals and into your bed if you wrote me another enticing letter._

Since there doesn't seem to be a way to do that, I guess I'll have to meet you at headquarters tonight at 6 pm. You know that this is not something I consider to be a burden. Quite the opposite.

_Hermione, I want you to understand that we should not do this because it is a duty. I do this because I love you._

I know that. The idea that it is a duty is just an excuse. We wanted to do this anyway and I'm not sure how good we'd actually be at keeping our hands off each other over the long run, in spite of good intentions.

I love you, too.

_I realize this is happening quickly and unexpectedly. We have not allowed our intimacy to progress to more than kisses and a few touches. This is hardly typical between a courting couple and it asks a lot of you._

Feel free to think of me as an eager beginner, willing to learn. I think I can put a lot of enthusiasm into the overall effort.

_I believe I am smiling with great anticipation._

I'd like to see that smile.

_In a matter of hours, you shall._

Severus, have you given any thought to attempting the Virgo Curato?

_I had not considered that._

This would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to try and make it.

_Do you understand what is required?_

I've read the ritual. I meet the requirement that one of us be a virgin. I assume you aren't.

_Ahem. No._

Well, it would be even more powerful if both of us were. I didn't really think you were, though. Isn't there a celibacy requirement for the partner who is not a virgin?

_I do believe there is. I will have to review the instructions for the ritual to determine the length of the requirement. _

It isn't any of my business what you did before we became involved.

Except that if we are going to do this, it is now.

It will be our first time together and you definitely have the brewing skills. I think I'm a good enough brewer to do my portion.

_You are doubtlessly skilled enough to do the maiden's portion._

_However._

However, what?

_Every wizard would like to think that he could be Salazar Slytherin in the bedroom. The ritual requires a good deal of self-discipline._

Honestly, Severus Snape. You could be the poster boy for self-discipline. So, is it true about Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw?

_To answer your question, no it was not true about Rowena Ravenclaw. She was most definitely not a virgin when she and Slytherin had their affair. The woman involved was Salazar's wife Anne. They developed the ritual together._

The story I heard was that it was Slytherin and Ravenclaw who invented it.

_It was not. The Heads of Houses have access to documents not available to the general population. I heard that legend when I was a student and it is simply something the Ravenclaws made up to try and diminish Salazar Slytherin's accomplishment._

There's no need to defend the honor of Slytherin House or its founder. I can see how the stories might start.

_This brings us back to the question of self-discipline. It is not only the discipline to follow the ritual step-by-step; it is the stamina to see it through to the end._

You mean….

_The ritual cannot end early and still produce the Virgo Curato. Hermione, it has been a while for me. That might make it more difficult to…last._

I kind of think I understand what you are getting at. If it has been a while, it would make the Virgo Curato more powerful.

I still think we should try. We can't lose anything by trying, even if we don't succeed. If we do succeed, then we will have produced the most powerful healing potion known to the wizarding world in a time when it may be needed.

Either way, I expect to be a very happy woman tonight. I love you and I'm going to be with you. We have the whole night together. I get to wake up with you in the morning.

_Our first night. I confess to hoping that we will have many nights._

So do I.

_Do you have a copy of the ritual?_

Yes. I hoped we might try it when the time was right. It has probably been fifty years since a couple has managed to make it.

_At least that long. Then you know the preparations you have to make._

I have made bath salts before and have all of the ingredients here. I have the other ingredients needed for the maiden's portion of the Virgo Curato. They'll be ready to use when I arrive.

_I will borrow the gold cauldron from Hogwarts and the other items we need. As the maiden, it will be your task to prepare the bower. I fear my bedroom at headquarters is not exactly the honeymoon suite._

It will be just as special to me knowing that it is where you sleep when you're there. Is the bed still enlarged?

_It is. I have not undone the transfiguration since your illness. I have found it soothing to think that you have slept there on the occasions I have used the bed since your illness._

You are very romantic, you know.

_I hardly think of myself that way, but I shall endeavor to do my best. _

_This is not a romantic question, but it occurs to me that the ritual does not allow for any forms of magical intervention in the process._

I had forgotten, but it isn't a problem.

_It is a problem if you become pregnant._

Oh. I hadn't thought of that. It would be a problem, wouldn't it?

_I do not believe I am ready to become a father._

I hadn't planned on becoming a mother in the middle of college, either. Hold on a moment and let me check my calendar.

It is a risk, but I am not at the point in my cycle where I should be fertile.

_That is a relief, but such estimates are imperfect. Do you still wish to take the chance?_

There is a chance I could become pregnant, but not a big one. I'm willing to take the risk if you are.

_From my perspective, at this moment in time, the benefits outweigh the risk._

I'm glad you feel that way. I'll see if I can find any "fertile time" detection spells. I can do that research over the Internet. If I am fertile, it would probably be unwise to attempt the Virgo Curato and I'll take a contraceptive potion.

_A sensible choice. _

_Do you feel safe in the apartment building? I know everything is being monitored by Schuler's people._

I was a little panicky at first, but now that I know what's going on, I feel better. It is unlikely that the Dark Lord knows my identity. He believes I'm promiscuous, so I should be low on his list of suspects.

_Good. I shall rest easier knowing that you feel secure. I do not believe there is anything else for us to decide right now. I am going to get a few hours of sleep before I have to teach. I will need my rest, since I have a commitment for tonight that will demand my full attention._

Why do I have the feeling there is a lot you haven't told me about what is going on?

_Because there is a lot I have not told you. It will be easier to discuss in person and there is nothing you can do about any of it, anyway._

I'll accept that for now. I am sending you a goodnight kiss.

_It will make my dreams all the sweeter. You should sleep, as well._

I love you. Good night, Severus.

_I love you, too. Good night, Hermione._

-------------------------------

I stand up and stretch, reaching my arms up and pointing my fingers to the ceiling while standing on tiptoes. I drop my arms and hug myself and do a couple of twirls around the room. I want to laugh, I want to dance, and I want to hug the world in elation.

He loves me.  
He loves me.  
He loves me.

We're going to make love tonight. I look at the clock. It is almost 9:30 pm, so it is 3:30 am in Scotland. Oh, no. Poor Severus is going to have to teach on three or four hours of sleep.

If he only gets three of four hours of sleep before we get together….

The poor man is going to be asleep on his feet. Or whatever position we are in at the time.

Maybe I can get him to take a nap before we start the ritual. If I can't take a contraceptive potion because of the magical interruption to the ritual, he can't use anything magical to perk himself up.

"_Perk himself up_." The phrase makes me break out into a laugh.

I should get out the parchments that describe the ritual. I need to study it to make sure I am ready.

I need to make the bath salts for my ritual bath. I wish the ritual would allow me to prepare everything for Severus. Where will he find the time to do it?

I can't, though. He has to prepare his own ingredients to bring to the ritual or it won't work. The whole point is to imbue every aspect of the ritual with the depth of the love felt for one's partner. That's what makes the Virgo Curato so powerful and effective.

I stroll or perhaps I float my way into the second bedroom that I use for a home office.

Oops. In my sheer happiness over my imminent defloration at the hands and other parts of my beloved Potions Master, I have not been paying attention to the fact that I am under security alert and need to be able to swoop out of my apartment to a safe place on a moment's notice. I scurry back to the kitchen and pick up Crookshanks travel carrier and levitate my other stuff back to the office with me.

Everything is organized in case of emergency evacuation.

I open my file cabinet and look through my files, which are painstakingly alphabetized, color coded, and every tab label neatly typed. It is so well-organized that it makes me tingly all over just to think about it.

Right now, it probably doesn't take much to make me feel tingly all over.

T  
U  
V

Here we are. I finger through the files.

Virgin myths  
Virgin spells  
Virgo Constellation  
Virgo Curato

I pull out the file, close the drawer, and sit down at the desk. I remove the sheaf of parchments and start to read.

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Crookshanks is out of his cat carrier. He woke up and I can't keep him in there all the time. Right now, he's sitting on his window seat, looking out of the living room window. If something happens, I'm going to Accio the little bugger and put him back in his carrier. I will not leave my cat for a Death Eater.

I'm back in the kitchen where I am carefully chopping dried rose petals into tiny bits. I keep the image of Severus' face in my mind and think about how much I love him as I work.

I finished the bath salts first. They are lightly scented with essential oil from night blooming silver jasmine. The oil makes the salts gleam with a magical silver light. I've never tried them before because a tiny vial of the essential oil is horridly expensive and I only have one. It is supposed to make my skin wonderfully soft and smooth.

I have already chopped the lavender for the Virgo Curato and measured it into a jar. They sit alongside the other ingredients that I have prepared and pre-measured. Everything must be ready to add to the potion as Severus and I follow the steps of the ritual.

We certainly don't want to take time out from the ritual to chop and measure ingredients when preparing them in advance will work equally well. There are other things I'd rather be doing with my hands.

I need fresh rose petals for the bed. How am I going to get fresh roses when I can't leave the apartment? I could call a florist and have them delivered.

Better yet, I can ask Bill to call a florist and have them delivered. It will be part of our cover. He can contact Laketha and tell her that he is sending them to me so they'll let the delivery person through. Bill and I are going to make everyone think we are lovers anxious to spend the night together.

After Severus and I communicated, the journal I use for Bill started to glow. We talked for a long while and made plans. Bill has a free period at the end of the school day on Mondays. He is going to offer to Polyjuice himself as Severus and cover the Second Year Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class so Severus can have time to prepare for the ritual or take a nap.

In the course of the evening, Severus will be seen around the castle. He'll be in the library. He'll patrol the halls. He'll even deduct House points from Gryffindors for breathing too loudly.

All of this will be going on while Bill Weasley whisks Hermione Granger away to make her ineligible to be a maiden brewer. As long as Severus isn't summoned, we think we can pull this off.

It is good to have friends. Bill said that Remus is going to arrange for Harry and Ron to stay elsewhere for the night. Remus and Dobby are going to stay at Tonks' flat. He's going to change the passwords for the wards and the doors so no one can get in to headquarters for the night.

We'll be alone. Really alone.

Except for the snakes. We're supposed to feed them at some point during all of this. Hmmm. Should we get it done before the ritual? I can probably have Severus do it while I'm preparing the bedroom.

I finish with the rose petals, pour them into the cup, and weigh them on the digital scale. It is so much more efficient than using a balance scale and weights. They go into another jar. I wrap the jars in towels and put them into the tote bag. The bag of full moon charged stones goes in there, too.

I have everything ready, except for adding my special negligee to my weekender bag. I'm so glad we don't have to do the ritual skyclad. I'd be too nervous and self-conscious to brew the potion correctly. By the time there is undressing involved, we'll probably be too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed.

I should go to bed, but I'm still too restless to settle down. Instead, I turn on the computer.

There has to be more to this than Severus has said, so far.

Voldemort is looking for me, even though he doesn't know that it's me he's looking for.

Why? What does Voldemort need a maiden brewer for? All I've really done is fertility potions and a few healing draughts. There isn't a weapon in the bunch. If he had any suspicions about our weapon, someone would have had to betray us from within the Order. Voldemort would go after Severus, first.

I don't think that there are any potions requiring a maiden brewer other than medicinal potions. Assuming Voldemort doesn't want a fertility potion, what does he need a healing draught for? I don't know, but it makes sense. If Voldemort had something wrong with him, he wouldn't want anyone to know. Even Severus might not know if the treatment isn't something that he can brew.

I open the Internet connection to the Avalon College library. I click until I reach the Potions library and call up the search function. I click on content search.

Search: Maiden brewer

The results show on the screen. There are hundreds of potions listed here. Doing a quick scan, I see assorted fertility potions.

There's a fertility potion for dragons? I open up the file. Yech. It requires the dragon eat the brewer after imbibing the potion. I don't even want to know why somebody invented that one.

An anti-acne potion?

Hmmm. A beautiful hair potion? Too bad we didn't know about this one before we started on our interdisciplinary project. Not that I wanted it advertised to Draco, Anita, and Warren that I could brew such a thing.

Four versions of cures for the plague, three for fevers, one for negative humours, six wart removers, one wart grower, one for uterine tumors, two enlarged prostate cures, one for the pox, two for heart valve repairs, one male sterility treatment and any number of other conditions.

I open several of the files for a quick look. Of all of these treatments, the most modern of them is from the late 1800's. Most of them were from a time considerably before that; during the Dark Ages.

Several of the potions were attributed to nuns, which makes perfect sense. They stayed virgin and made their potions available to support the convent. Witches who didn't want to marry had limited options unless they were independently wealthy.

In the Middle Ages, Wimborne Abbey in Dorset was inhabited exclusively by witches who did amazing work in Herbology, Potions, and Arithmancy. There must have been a lot of memory charm work going on to keep the Muggle male superiors of the church from realizing what was going on.

The wizarding world found cures for whole classifications of diseases centuries before the Muggle world had any knowledge of microscopic life. Wizarding healers conducted in-depth analysis of the human body in ancient Egypt. Muggle physicians were paying gravediggers to supply them with fresh corpses to dissect right into the 1800's. No wonder the life span of the average wizard was three or four times that of a Muggle.

Wizarding culture might have a narrower view of female chastity than Muggle culture, but fewer and fewer witches are complying with it. Of all of my female friends, I'm the only one I know for certain is still a virgin.

No wonder these potions are no longer made. Fortunately, most of the potions I've seen so far have an equivalent that can be made by any witch or wizard with the skills to do the work, except for fertility potions guaranteeing the parents' control over the conception of a boy or girl.

This isn't getting me any closer to figuring out why Voldemort wants a maiden brewer. A lot about Voldemort doesn't make sense. From the descriptions I've heard of his behavior and beliefs, the man is nuts. He's like a cult leader, thinking of himself as some sort of religious savior of the wizarding world.

Severus must have been so lost and alone to let himself be pulled into that when he was seventeen. He was two years younger than I am now when he took the Mark.

It is a shame I don't have time to make more of these potions. There are some here that look like they might work better than the ones used in modern times.

Every day that I wait, I put more women in danger. I don't know who they are, but Voldemort was willing to kidnap and kill eight women who might possibly be capable of preparing a maiden brewed potion.

The reality is that I had no way of knowing that Voldemort needs a maiden brewed potion. If I had known that my commercial venture might put others at risk, I would never have started it. I would have only brewed the healing potions for Remus and the Order.

Voldemort must have a connection inside St. Mungo's who told him about Poppy. If Dumbledore hadn't rescued her, she would have been tortured and given up the name Hermione Granger. The Death Eaters would have been here by now or Draco would have been ordered to deliver me up. Who knows where it would have gone from there.

If Voldemort wants a maiden brewer that badly, I'm putting everyone else who might be eligible in mortal danger.

I can't help but smile. It's probably the type of smile Salazar Slytherin would be proud of. In fact, I think I've seen that kind of smile on Severus' face before.

It's for my safety, his safety, and the safety of every virgin witch in England. I turn off the computer and dowse the lights except for the one beside my bed. I take off my shoes and jeans, leaving my t-shirt on in case I have to evacuate. I climb under the sheets and reach over to the drawer of the table next to my bed. I take out the vibrator.

I'm not going to use it tonight. I certainly wouldn't use it when ultrasensitive listening devices are relaying every noise in the building to Digital Magic security agents.

I look it over carefully. It is supposed to be of average size and it is flesh colored. I turn it over and wonder what Severus' appendage will look like. Probably more purple or reddish when he's excited. This rubbery thing is cool to the touch and doesn't do anything unless I push the switch at the base.

I wonder what I need to touch to get Severus' penis to do something. I laugh quietly to myself. I suppose I'll find that out.

I put the vibrator away in the drawer and turn out the light.

Sometime within the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to have the real thing.

--------------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers: Katyes, Lady Slone, Martyjeannine, Swytla, KarlaMarie, Remus r us, Dobbin, Bawetta, Andi-Scribbles (whose review had me rolling on the floor laughing), Lipasnape, Squeaker19450, Klschmidt, Princessfiona, o0morgana0o, Arsinoe de Blassinville, Heidi191976, Rinny08, KK Duke, MollysSister, Keske, Lone Butterfly, Oscarxena, Charmed8620, Lyndie578, Darque Hart, Droxy, Miroku75, Lilsnape, Imbyrri, Exploding pool, Marble Meadow, Danielle, Secretstrangeangel, LovelyLadyJem, Angelofmusic1289, Loves-Kiss, Koliber, Erytha, Jocemum, Millenia2, Maddie50, Nutters4Potter, T wrecks, Wynnleaf, Lady-Daine, Lilyginny27, Angel-65, SlvrNight, Severessa, Broken2nite, Latinachikita, Capri3lla, Starbridge, Arctic Dragon, Sweety-Pie5445, Squiggles.Candi, Amsev, Notwritten, Nirtak.Enaile, StormMasters, Ebbe04, Pure Girl, Duj, Not so Chicken Little, AnokiNantaras, Kirien, SlytherinTwinCC, Trulyamused, Pstibbons (who left a lot of reviews), bluedecor, DesceptiveFates, Lonewolf, ArimeSetta, Andressa, Jade2099, Brotherchaos, Flame, Xalndrms, Sunsethill, Poiu, Werforpsu, Evil-Mastermind666, Nelygirl, Punkchick18, Alison, Saz, GiggleGinny, and Jin'sGirls6


	78. Chapter 78

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in her universe for fun.

Thank you to Julia for checking this chapter and all of your suggestions. Ditto to Katyes, who has translated 56 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German.

-------------------------------  
Severus  
May 3rd, 1999

I slept the sleep of the exhausted and would have preferred not to get out of bed this morning. It is almost 8 am and I have decided to skip breakfast so that I can find out how Albus is doing.

Since Minerva is waiting at the doorway to the revolving staircase, I see I am not the only one who cannot tolerate waiting until noon.

We greet each other quietly and step inside before speaking of any of the things that are truly on our minds.

"I pulled rank and ordered Bill and Filius to go to breakfast in the Great Hall and supervise the students," admits Minerva, brusquely. "I am not inclined to care if they notice that I am not present along with Albus, Poppy, and yourself. We want the Dark Lord to think that Albus sustained a mild injury in the Death Eater attack."

"Has there been any word from Jean or Miss Tonks?"

"Remus firecalled this morning and said they had been in briefly at 6:15 am and then left. He said that they were following a lead, but knew nothing more than that," replies Minerva.

Minerva gives the password that allows the Deputy Headmistress to enter the Headmaster's office. We walk in to see Poppy coming down the stairs from Albus' quarters. She gives us a smile as she approaches, a very good sign.

Poppy holds out her hands to Minerva who takes them as we meet her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Albus is doing fine," says Poppy. "He is sleeping now, but was awake for a few hours earlier this morning."

She waves us over to the seats by the fireplace and firecalls to the kitchen for a house-elf to bring us breakfast. Minerva summons a table and the three of us are seated as the elf sets out bowls of food so that we may serve ourselves. The elf departs and we are free to continue our conversation.

"As I said," Poppy continues, "Albus was wide awake and alert at about 6 am. He was hungry and all systems appeared to be functioning properly," she says with a knowing smile.

I do not need to know that Albus is feeling _that_ well recovered from his ordeal. If _that_ is really what she meant. I have no desire to find out whether or not Albus is having regular healthful bowel movements, either. That has been a topic of discussion at the head table over breakfast far too often for my comfort.

"Are there any signs of residual effects from the stroke?" I ask.

"None," says Poppy. "I was able to repair the damaged area. It was really quite routine, as such things go."

"That is certainly excellent news," announces Minerva.

"I have ordered him to spend the next two days resting," declares Poppy, as she spoons scrambled eggs onto her plate. She looks at my plate and spoons some onto mine as well along with a slice of toast and three sausages.

I raise an eyebrow.

Poppy suddenly realizes what she is doing and bursts into laughter as she puts the serving spoon back into the bowl. Minerva begins to laugh along with her. I allow a minute smile to pass my lips.

"I am sorry for being so presumptuous, Severus," laughs Poppy. "My mind is in two places at once and the part that was here decided you needed feeding and took over."

Minerva gives me a once over.

"Well," she says in a superior tone, "I agree." She reaches over and adds a few spoonfuls of fried mushrooms to my plate.

My other eyebrow joins the first one.

"Eat up, Severus," she instructs.

Feeling unusually cooperative this morning, I shrug and comply.

That has both of them laughing.

It is good to feel so relaxed at the moment that I can enjoy myself in their company.

Unfortunately, there is too much at stake to indulge myself this way right now.

"I am very relieved that it looks like Albus will make a full recovery. However, we need to figure out what happened yesterday."

The two women look at each other with sober expressions. Poppy takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and dabs at her mouth with her napkin.

"As I told Remus last night," she begins, "I met with Aloysius Spence in the conference room next to the maternity ward. I had given him the two potions Hermione brewed for the child with the brain tumor. He gave me a bank draft for the payment, made out to Hermione's numbered account at Gringott's and a second one for my commission. We bade each other "Good day," and I left via the side entrance I always use. I had my Portkey out and was getting ready to leave. A tall woman with brown hair was standing in the alley. She started toward me and I realized she had her wand out. Before I could say the password and leave, a second person _Accioed_ my Portkey. I countered before he could _Accio_ my wand. At that point, I ducked behind a stack of crates and started casting blocks. There were others who started firing at me. I'm not sure how many there were.

"I called to Albus on my bracelet," says Poppy, raising her left arm and showing us a deceptively simple bracelet of gold links on her wrist. Using the defensive spells Albus has taught me over the years, I was able to hold them off for the time it took Albus to arrive. He immediately started fighting back with offensive hexes. He downed at least two of the Death Eaters. I'm not sure how long he fought them. It was probably only a minute or two, but it felt like twenty. I grabbed onto him and he Apparated both of us to Hogwarts.

"We walked up here and I firecalled Remus. Albus dropped the blocks on the floo and allowed Remus and Ronald Weasley to come through. We were explaining what happened when Albus became dizzy and fell. Everything else after that is dealing with the medical emergency."

"We did not want to interrupt what you were doing for Albus last night," says Minerva. "But, we need to see those bank drafts. Bill said that you received a letter from Healer Spence requesting the potions that referred to Ellen and another Healer whose name he did not know. We need to have the name and to examine the letter."

"I thought you might," replies Poppy, rummaging in the pocket of her skirt. She pulls out a folded wad of parchments which she carefully unfolds and places them on the table, one at a time.

Minerva nods in my direction and I do the spell over them. The bank drafts and letter glow green.

"There are tracking spells on all of these," I declare, Minerva's eyes meeting mine across the table. "The spells would allow the person who cast them to track down the document, presumably in the possession of the maiden brewer. It does not appear that any of these are hazardous, otherwise."

I lean closer to examine the first one. It is the bank draft for the numbered account made out for 238 galleons. Hermione is under pricing her services. She should have asked for nothing less than 500. I shall have a talk with her about that. Though it may be a moot point, since after tonight she will be unable to concoct any maiden brewed potions. I turn my attention to the letter.

"Who is the third Healer?" asks Minerva.

"Healer Powell," answers Poppy. "I don't know him at all, but he is listed in the St. Mungo's Registry of Healers as a specialist in disorders of the brain."

"I presume Jean and Miss Tonks will be here at some point to collect these for their investigation," says Minerva. "They said they would be working out of headquarters so as not to attract too much attention with comings and goings from the Headmaster's office. I am sure Remus will tell them about meeting here at noon."

"Will Albus be ready for visitors by then?" I ask.

"Heavens, yes," replies Poppy. "I shall probably have to sit on him to keep him in bed for two days." She says this with the most whimsical smile on her face.

Minerva and I both groan at the utterly inappropriate visual images playing out in our heads. For each of the last ten years, I have given Albus his birthday present so that he might indulge in a sex life. Beyond that, I do not want to know about it. Nor do I think it is a good idea for a man who just had a stroke to potion himself with something that affects blood pressure.

"Poppy?" I consider my words carefully. "You are aware that Albus takes a potion…"

"When I say Albus is resting," she interrupts, "I mean exactly that." She is emphatic, annoyed, and looking down her long nose at me. Not that I would criticize a long nose.

Minerva gives us a questioning look.

"You do not want to know," we reply in surprising unison.

Fortunately, the hands of the clock on the wall indicate that it is _Time to Teach_ and allow us to make a hasty exit.

When we reach the bottom of the staircase, Minerva puts her hand on my arm to delay me and waves her wand to keep the door from opening.

"I assume you have not spoken to Bill this morning?" she inquires.

"No," I reply, "I did not climb out of bed a moment sooner than absolutely necessary."

"We spoke briefly," explains Minerva. "Bill and Hermione communicated through their journals last night. He has offered to take the Polyjuice early and cover your last class today so you can leave sooner than you had planned. It is at the same time as his free period."

"It is a generous offer on his part," I reply, shaking my head regretfully. "I could use the extra time, but it will be more convincing to anyone who might report back to the Death Eaters if Bill is seen leaving the castle after I do. He should Portkey to Chicago and bring Hermione back. This should be witnessed by Draco or one of Hermione's other friends who will tell Draco. When he brings Hermione back to Hogwarts tomorrow morning, we will have established the beginning of a timeline where there is every reason to believe that Bill and Hermione have been together the entire time."

"It certainly shows that you have been a spy for the last twenty years," says Minerva. "I never thought of it from that perspective. I shall speak to Bill about it."

This time, I reach out and touch her arm to make her wait.

"I may not have expressed my appreciation last night for all that you, Remus, and Bill are doing for Hermione and me," I say softly.

"We would like you and Hermione to be happy and have whatever time together that can be snatched from the midst of this war we are in," says Minerva, a bit of a quaver in her voice. "If the three of us can help by making arrangements the two of you cannot make for yourselves, it is a small enough thing. My only regret is that you will not have the privacy you should have of being the only ones who know of your first intimate moments. In case we do not have an opportunity to meet between now and when you leave, I wish you happiness tonight."

I give in to the impulse and bend down to kiss her on the cheek.

No further words are necessary. Minerva and I exit and she walks towards her classroom and I make my way down to the dungeons.

-----------------------

Albus is all smiles and twinkles as he holds court from his wingback chair in front of the fireplace. The sitting room of his private quarters is crowded as we all balance plates of sandwiches on our knees in an effort to combine a hurried lunch with a meeting to assess Albus' health and get an update on the investigation into the identity of the secret Death Eater at St. Mungo's.

We have received assurances from Albus that he is fine, recovering nicely, and that he considers it entirely unfair that he is required to stay in bed until Wednesday morning. This is a clear contradiction with the fact that he is currently occupying the wingback chair before us. However, he is smiling jovially as Poppy describes his heroic rescue of her person from the hands of the Death Eaters. In a blatant display of false modesty, he decries his own efforts and credits her with quick thinking and excellent blocking spells which made it all possible.

Show-off.

Miss Tonks and Jean Lamb have just arrived, with Kingsley Shacklebolt in tow. From their facial expressions, I believe they have urgent news. They have the full attention of everyone present: Lupin, Potter, Sommersby, Mad-Eye, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Minerva, Poppy and I.

"We located Healer Spence this morning," reports Jean in a matter of fact tone. "He's dead."

Poppy gasps and clutches Albus' hand.

"This matter has become the official concern of Magical Law Enforcement," announces Kingsley, his voice communicating that he will brook no arguments. "The Order has to be very circumspect in how we handle this situation. Fortunately, I am in charge of the investigation. Whatever I know, the Order will know. However, MLE won't know what the Order doesn't want it to know."

"We're actually here on our lunch break," says Tonks, hinting broadly. Remus waves her over to take a seat and hands her a sandwich.

"Except for me," says Jean. "I set my own hours, but food sounds like a very good idea."

Minerva budges her chair over to make room for Jean. She pulls up another chair next to mine. With all of the subtlety of a hungry hippogriff spotting a dead ferret, she reaches over and takes the second roast beef sandwich off my plate and takes a large bite.

"Urgh," she grunts, looking around for something to spit into. Seeing nothing available without a considerable amount of transfiguration that she cannot manage at the moment, she chews and swallows with a grimace a gargoyle would envy. Her eyes are watering and her nose is running. I fumble in the pocket of my robes, find a clean handkerchief and hand it to her. While she mops her face and blows her nose, I conjure a glass of ice cold milk. She grabs it and sips to take the fire out of her mouth.

"How can you ruin a perfectly good roast beef sandwich by putting horseradish on it?" she demands as she takes the bread off the top of the sandwich and spells away the offensive condiment.

I lean over and whisper, "They teach us that one in Death Eater school. It is a highly effective method of disarming wenches who steal one's lunch."

"Don't even try," grumbles Jean. "I've known you since you were eleven years old and you were eating that nasty heartburn-in-a-jar stuff even then. It may not have stunted your growth, but I hold it accountable for certain regrettable tendencies in your personality. I intend to write a report on it which will appear in the next Department of Magical Weights and Measures newsletter under the _Getting to Know Your Death Eaters_ column."

"You say that like it is an insult," I whisper in return.

"Wait until you see the article," she whispers back, taking a bite of her now condiment-free sandwich.

Potter hands Shacklebolt a plate with a chicken salad sandwich. Kingsley grimaces and hands it back to him, telling him he wants ham and cheese on brown bread, with crisps and a pickled onion on the side.

Arthur Weasley is requesting corned beef. Moody is looking at everyone with suspicion and takes a swig from his flask.

Perhaps we should move this meeting to a pub? I would like a firewhisky right about now.

A house-elf is summoned and is collecting orders. Albus has requested lemon drizzlecake for everyone. Perhaps there will be crumbled lemon sherbets sprinkled on top? When did Order meetings take on the trappings of a ladies afternoon tea?

I cannot help but sigh. I have places to go and things to do.

While they sort themselves out, I am going to dedicate a few minutes to thinking about this evening and Hermione. This morning, while the wretches were doing an Arithmantic analysis of four assigned potions, I collected the ingredients I need for my portion of the Virgo Curato. They are properly stored in my bottomless carrying case, along with the crystals, the gold cauldron, and the parchments inscribed with the ritual needed to make the potion.

The garment to be worn posed a bit of a question, since the ritual calls for nightwear common to a thousand years ago. A nightshirt is the accepted standard, which is fine with me since that is what I wear to sleep. I have a fine black silk nightshirt that was a birthday gift from Lucius and Narcissa a few years ago. I have only ever worn it on occasions when I stayed at their home.

Will Hermione think I am terribly old-fashioned? She wore one of my nightshirts when she was ill a month ago, so she has some idea that I am inclined to wear them.

I could wear pajamas, but there are particular aspects of the ritual that would lend themselves better to wearing a nightshirt. A nightshirt, it is then. I wonder what Hermione will wear?

Perhaps I had better not travel too far down the road of that sort of speculation.

A house-elf offers me another roast beef sandwich. Given Jean ate half of my lunch, I accept. It looks like she is having a second sandwich – one with turkey and lettuce.

That reminds me to keep eating.

The ritual provides step-by-step instructions as to the order in which to do things. That is all prescribed. After that, I daresay I shall need a nap.

After the nap, there shall be more lovemaking.

Erm.

Uh oh.

There is no ritual for that.

I shall be on my own.

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Hermione will expect to be in the throes of ecstasy at some point during the night. I do not doubt that I will achieve the throes of ecstasy. She will not appreciate it if I leave her behind in the process.

Shit.

My sexual encounters for the last fifteen years have involved hired help. That sex was about my pleasure, not theirs. I doubt I was paying any attention to how things went for them. They could have been faking it, for all I know.

I realize that I have stopped eating and am staring at my hands.

"Something wrong with your sandwich?" asks Jean, giving me a nudge. "Other than how it tastes with that creamed shredded root on it? Would you rather have something edible? I can get one of the house-elves to get you a nice watercress or cucumber sandwich."

"That is most considerate of you," I reply. "I am simply contemplating the richness of the flavor, the nuances of the carefully roasted beef combined with the sharpness of the horseradish. One must attend to it carefully to appreciate it fully."

"Attend away, then," snorts Jean. "It's your stomach lining, not mine."

I take a bite of my sandwich and ruminate for a while.

I should not assume that I will be inadequate to the task of seeing to Hermione's satisfaction. I simply need to analyze the situation.

The ritual will be Hermione's first time. She may be uncomfortable after that and need a bit of rest. After having so little sleep last night, a nap will probably be most restorative for me, as well.

There are other things we can do later during the night that can be very satisfying for both of us while not being uncomfortable for her. I simply need to remember to take things slowly and to pay close attention to what seems to please her. I am generally considered to be skilled with my hands and I am certainly willing to put them to good use. I must remember that I will be touching her skin and not chopping potion ingredients or stirring a cauldron.

Well, stirring maybe.

The sides and back of the neck are sensitive. Stroking and kissing should be effective. Feet and toes are supposed to be very responsive to licking and sucking. I would not be averse to sucking her toes. I wonder if Hermione is ticklish? Her grooming and hygiene are usually immaculate, so her toes will be clean. And we will both have to take our ritual baths before we begin anything. I had better see to the cleanliness of my own toes in case Hermione decides to do anything with them.

I should attend to her ears as well. The earlobe is reputed to be an erogenous zone. It most certainly is for me.

Thinking of ears, I must be certain to say complimentary things. Hermione has said she likes my voice and it is stimulating to hear me lecture. Sometime, I shall recite my First Year's speech for her in a completely different context. I do not think lecturing would be appropriate tonight, but I shall certainly praise Hermione's breasts. As I recall from when I saw her nude during the Cruciatus treatment, they will be a most adequate handful.

I will give her verbal encouragement to touch me. Perhaps praise is called for in this situation? Yes. Praise and encouragement.

No mentions of House points though, whether adding or subtracting. Such humor would probably be inappropriate.

Her back and shoulders would be good places to touch. Would it be more effective to touch them when she is sitting up, rather than reaching under her? Or, I could roll over and pull her on top of me and stroke her back then.

Should I be spontaneous about it? Yes. At some point, I will be completely spontaneous and pull her on top of me. Women like spontaneity. I shall plan spontaneity into our interludes.

I intend to enjoy Hermione's breasts. I shall have no difficulty in remembering to kiss and touch there. That is a good plan. Once I work my way to her breasts, I can kiss and touch my way down her abdomen to the more intimate parts. Certainly, she will find touching and even licking stimulating in those regions.

Am I willing to lick?

I remind myself that I am in the company of others at the moment and should not stick out my tongue and try to look at it. It should be sufficiently long for such purposes.

I must be open to all of the possibilities. I am determined that Hermione shall have at least one screaming orgasm tonight. If she has a screaming orgasm, I am more likely to be on the receiving end of a screaming orgasm. This is one occasion when screaming is good.

What is the best way to get her to open her legs? She is a beginner…. If she is aroused, will she open them automatically? Maybe not. Could I say "Open your legs" in a sexy way? I could stroke her legs while I ask. That would help her to relax.

Where should I be at that point? Should I be down there or up by her head so I can whisper in her ear? I am tall enough that I could do it that way and still stroke her leg. Perhaps I should put my hand under her thigh and lift it a little? But, if she lifts her leg too high, I will not be able to roll on top of her. I would have to get up a bit and climb over her leg. Would that interrupt her mood? It might also give her too much of an eyeful of a noticeably prominent feature. She will have already seen it and experienced it once by that time. Would that be enough for her to be comfortable with my nudity? Of course, if my face is down there and I am licking, she might not be in a frame of mind to notice my state of arousal. I wonder if I should use my fingers first? I believe I have read somewhere that the proper technique involves insertion of a finger or two while using the thumb to stimulate the cli….

"Severus?"

I am on the receiving end of a poke in the arm which interrupts my train of thought. I look up and see that Jean is looking at me with a curious expression.

"Yes?" I reply.

"You are staring at your sandwich," she says, sounding concerned. "When Mike looks at me the way you are looking at your sandwich, it means something I'm really going to enjoy is about to happen. Are you getting out enough?"

Fortunately, I need not answer because Shacklebolt is standing next to Albus and asking for our attention.

"Now that our lunch situation has sorted itself out," announces Albus, "I shall turn the meeting over to Kingsley."

"As I was saying earlier," begins Shacklebolt, "the investigation is now under the jurisdiction of the Aurors' office. I am in charge and Tonks will be assisting me. Jean will be involved unofficially, representing the Department of Magical Weights and Measures. The investigation began with Tonks and Jean very early this morning," he continues. "If you two could tell everyone what you found?"

Jean and Tonks rise and join Shacklebolt at the front of the room.

"At 2:45 am," says Tonks, "Jean and I arrived at St. Mungo's. We looked over the alley where the Death Eaters attempted to snatch Madam Pomfrey. We found traces of blood in the area Poppy identified as the location where one of the injured Death Eaters fell. I took readings and we will see if they match with anyone in our files. No signs of any bodies were found."

"We entered St. Mungo's and proceeded to go to the conference room where Poppy met with Healer Spence," reports Jean. "We found nothing significant there. We obtained the home addresses of Healers Spence, Smith, and Powell and went first to Spence's residence."

"Lights were on and the rear door of the house was unlocked," says Tonks, "So, we took full advantage and admitted ourselves. We found Spence's body in an upstairs bedroom. There were no signs of a struggle. My guess is that he was surprised and took an Avada."

"Based on the readings from the body," says Jean, "we estimate the time of death to have been approximately 1 pm yesterday. This would have been about three hours before he was due to report for duty at 4 pm."

"My appointment with him was scheduled for 8:30 pm," interrupts Poppy. "I saw him and talked to him at 8:30 in the conference room when I delivered the potions."

Jean looks at Tonks who nods to her.

"We believe that the Healer Spence you met with was an imposter on Polyjuice," says Jean. "We have no way of knowing if the imposter was the person who killed Spence or if he had an accomplice."

"Severus checked the bank drafts used for payment for the potions," adds Poppy. "He found tracking charms on them and on the original letter asking that I request the maiden brewer to prepare two potions."

"We'll need all of those as evidence," says Shacklebolt. "We can analyze them in greater depth to determine where they came from and what tracking charms were used on them."

Poppy nods in agreement and hands them to Tonks.

"Once we found the body," says Tonks, "We notified Kingsley so the investigation would become official at some point during the day."

"As far as MLE is concerned," clarifies Shacklebolt, "The investigation did not become official until this morning at 8:15 when the Aurors office received a summons from St. Mungo's to report a theft at the hospital. Someone entered a potions' storeroom by the Maternity Unit and stole ten bottles of maiden brewed fertility potions. This led to an official visit by two Aurors to Healer Spence's home. They are on record as having found the body."

"Their search of the house revealed that Spence's desk had been rifled," says Tonks. "We assume that Spence had his passwords written down. That allowed the imposter to get into the cupboard where the fertility potions were kept."

"Why would the imposter steal fertility potions?" asks Potter.

"Maiden brewed fertility potions are very expensive," says Shacklebolt. "They could be sold on the black market for thousands of galleons."

"That does not fit with the Death Eater trap for Madam Pomfrey," I interrupt. "The Dark Lord sent the Death Eater task force to capture Madam Pomfrey so he could force the name of the Order's Maiden brewer out of her. Why would the imposter take time out in all of this to steal fertility potions?"

"What if all they wanted from the beginning were the fertility potions?" asks Arthur, scratching his head.

"If that was the case," says Jean, "The Death Eaters wouldn't have bothered with Madam Pomfrey. They could have used their imposter to get the fertility potions and left Madam Pomfrey alone."

"Any ideas, Severus?" asks Albus from his seat at the front of the room. He looks tired and this discussion should end so he can go back to bed.

I shake my head. "This does not make sense. Perhaps the theft of the potions has nothing to do with the attempt to kidnap Poppy."

"There's more confusion to add," says Jean. "Madam Pomfrey received a request from Spence to have the maiden brewer prepare a potion for a child with a brain tumor. The Healers treating this child are Ellen Smith and Sydney Powell."

"We checked at their offices," says Tonks. "Neither of them is currently treating a child with a brain tumor who is in an urgent situation as described in the letter. This made us suspicious, so we checked at their homes."

"Ellen and Mark Smith are gone," says Jean. "According to her office, they are in Paris for the weekend. We have contacts trying to find them. On top of that, Healer Powell is missing. He has not reported in for work and is not scheduled to be off. We have no idea where he is and nothing at his home is disturbed."

"As things stand," says Shacklebolt, "None of the possible suspects is available for questioning. Spence is dead, Ellen Smith is gone, and Sydney Powell is missing."

Minerva stands up, looking very irate.

"Surely none of you truly think that Ellen Smith is a suspect in this," she insists, shaking her finger at Shacklebolt. "She and Mark have been members of the Order since the first War."

"Minerva," says Jean, "None of us want to think of Ellen as a suspect, but we cannot eliminate the possibility. I count her and Mark as friends. I took the Defense Against the Dark Arts job the year after Mark sneezed his way out of it. Right now, we haven't found them. A trip to Paris could be an alibi set up to cover one or the other's activities. Being an Order member isn't good enough to set anyone aside as a suspect."

"If Ellen Smith was a Death Eater," says Minerva with a disdainful snort, "She could have revealed all sorts of information to the Dark Lord. She has been on the committee developing our weapon. If she was a traitor, he would have killed Severus by now."

"She could have been stringing everyone along in order to get access to the bigger prize," responds Jean. "Don't forget that information revealed in Severus' presence at an Order meeting is protected by special Fidelius. It can't be revealed to the Dark Lord and even he can't break a Fidelius."

"Actually," interrupts Arthur, "There was a meeting at my home where Ellen was present before Professor Snape arrived. I don't know what was discussed, but it wouldn't have been covered by Fidelius."

"Good point," I mutter to myself. I wonder if the missing time from Saturday when the Dark Lord obliviated me has anything to do with all of this? If Ellen was giving him information not protected by the Fidelius, he may have confronted me in some way on Saturday. Surely he would have hurt me far worse than he did, if he thought I was a traitor. I should be dead, if that were the case. If he had obtained information from me about Hermione working as a maiden brewer, he would have seized her by now.

"I was there at the meeting," offers Remus. "All we talked about was how we got Bill out from under the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"That bit of information might be of interest to Riddle," says Arthur, "Given that he is the one who put the curse on the position in the first place."

"He would already know that the curse is not working," retorts Sommersby, "Given that Professor Weasley is still in the job. This would hardly be news to him."

"I do not know what the Dark Lord knows about any of this," I say, feeling free to interrupt since I am in the room. "I cannot believe I would be walking around alive if he believed I was withholding information from him or was disloyal in any way."

"I agree," says Albus. "There is a good deal more that must be investigated before any conclusions can be reached. No possibilities should be ignored. Like Minerva, I believe that Ellen Smith is a loyal Order member. However, I am also the one who never considered that Peter Pettigrew might betray the Potters," he says with a regretful nod to Harry Potter. "I have learned a valuable and painful lesson from that. The evidence will show who was involved and we must not stand in the way of it being gathered and evaluated."

"There is supposed to be a memo or letter from Ellen and Healer Powell to Healer Spence requesting the maiden brewer's help," says Poppy. "Has that letter been found?"

"I'll have my people look for it," says Shacklebolt. "Poppy, who is this maiden brewer that this is all about? Does she know that the Death Eaters are looking for her? We ought to have her under protection."

Poppy is looking around the room.

Bill stands up and all eyes turn to him.

"The maiden brewer is Hermione Granger," he says to Shacklebolt. "We've been communicating and she knows that the Death Eaters are looking for her. She and I intend to ensure very shortly that she will no longer be eligible to prepare maiden brewed potions. Professor Snape will make certain that information gets back to the Dark Lord. Hopefully, that will end efforts to locate a maiden brewer."

Bill looks back at his father, who looks rather dumbstruck at the moment. Arthur straightens up and gives his son one of those "we'll talk later" looks.

Hermione did mention that Arthur and Molly suspect our relationship. In light of that, Bill's statement may seem confusing. On the other hand, I am deeply relieved that Bill has said this. Although he did not say that he was personally going to ensure Hermione could not prepare maiden brewed potions, he implied it.

Albus is beaming at him.

Doubtlessly, he thinks that his attempt at matchmaking worked and Bill and Hermione will be producing several frizzy red haired Weasleys to be admitted to Hogwarts at some future time.

You have called this one entirely wrong, Albus. Hermione and I will be together tonight to consummate our relationship. She's mine. She chose me, not him. I suppose it would be petty if I added 'So, there!'

My attention returns to the business at hand as Shacklebolt clears his throat.

"Well," he says, looking rather embarrassed. "We shouldn't assume that will take care of the problem of Death Eaters looking for her. The Dark Lord might want to get even for her being taken out of his reach. She could still need protection."

"That is being taken care of," says Bill, sounding very final as he tries to close off the topic of discussion.

Sommersby takes the hint.

"I do believe we are out of time," says Chester, before Albus can speak. "Albus should be resting, the teachers must go to their classes and we should allow the investigators to go about their business."

"Absolutely," says Albus. "I thank you all for your kind words and wishes. I am certain I shall be fine and back to my normal activities in a few days. As we have more information about the investigation, we shall keep you informed. I would like to commend Kingsley, Jean, and Tonks for their efforts to get to the bottom of this."

Commendations are accepted graciously and everyone prepares for their departures. Jean hides a yawn behind her hand and announces that she is going home to get some sleep.

"Have you persuaded Potter to take you into the Chamber of Secrets, yet?" she asks. "If we had more time today, I'd ask him."

"I have not made such a request," I reply. "Potter reported that the way leading into it had partially collapsed and it is unsafe. Some year when things are less hectic, I intend to get in there and examine the Chamber myself."

"I was right about there being something wrong about Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," says Jean emphatically. "I should have realized the connection between that bathroom and Myrtle's death."

"_We_ should have when we were searching for the Chamber, but did not," I reply, shrugging my shoulders as I recall the times Jean and I searched for the room we were so certain existed.. "I was convinced that the entrance had to be through Slytherin Tower or the dungeons beneath. It seemed unlikely that Salazar would have allowed the entrance to be anywhere that he could not personally control while he was alive. The girls' bathroom on the second floor is not an area he would be monitoring."

"Maybe he was a little pervy and did monitor activity in the bathroom," frowns Jean.

I wince at the thought that the Founder of my House would relish watching young girls going about their private business.

"If Salazar had any spells or devices that would allow him to look inside that bathroom," I reply, restraining my shudder of revulsion, "he dismantled them before he left Hogwarts."

"Maybe one of the former Heads of House for Slytherin found them and removed them," speculates Jeans. "Certainly Aldis the Trustworthy would have as soon as she became the first female Head of House for Slytherin."

"Aldis would not only have left them in place," I retort, "She would have charged the male teachers admission for a peek. When she was referred to as Aldis the Trustworthy, it was intended to be sarcastic."

"Oh," replies Jean, looking surprised. "I guess Heads of House do have information the rest of us didn't get."

"Indeed," I mutter in return.

"In that case," says Jean, "I shall be on my way home. We should get Potter to open the entrance for us sometime. Who knew it would take a parselmouth to get inside? That's our Salazar, planning for the long-term. Only a megalomaniac and a kid manage to get inside in the span of a thousand years."

Jean goes and takes her place in the line beside the fireplace along with the others waiting to floo out of Hogwarts. She is talking eagerly to Potter who is obviously responding to her charm. Doubtlessly, Jean will have Potter talked into an expedition before she leaves. I cannot help but smile to myself, because she will ensure that I am invited along for that bit of adventure. I will get what I want and will owe Potter nothing.

There are days when life is good.

Minerva and I depart down the stairs into Albus' office. Bill is waiting for me there. Minerva gives me another pat on the arm before she leaves.

"Hermione and I communicated last night through our paired journals and again this morning," says Bill in hushed tones. "I let her know that I would be coming for her at 5 pm our time. That will give me time to Portkey to St. Germaine Hall and catch the bus to her apartment building. Draco and the others will be in classes at that time, so we'll make certain that Cindy, the house ghost, sees us and knows that Hermione is leaving with me and will be back tomorrow.

"We'll return to the dormitory," continues Bill, "and then Portkey to the Burrow and Apparate to headquarters. We should arrive right about 6 pm."

"I have Polyjuice at headquarters," I reply. "I will have a change of clothing for you there. The wards in my office, classroom, quarters, and Slytherin Tower have been adjusted to admit you. Do you have any questions about my habits that will aid you in your disguise?"

"I took seven years of Potions with you," says Bill, chuckling. "I have every confidence that I can pull this off."

"Do not forget to take House points for excessively loud breathing," I suggest to him.

"I wouldn't forget that one," said Bill. "I also have the advantage of knowing where Gryffindors like to sneak off for snogfests."

"Be my guest," I offer. Why would I interfere if Bill Weasley, former Head Boy and classic Gryffindor would like to suss out his own and dock points from their house? Minerva might not like it, but Slytherin shall have the House Cup this year. A Gryffindor will help me to get it!

"I think that covers everything," says Bill. "Remus won't be at headquarters after 4:30 pm, in case you're able to get there a little early." Bill shuffles a bit, rather uncomfortable. He does not look at me as he speaks. "In case you want to do something special for the…." He is looking at his feet. "For the, erm. Room. Or something."

I am almost as uncomfortable as Bill is.

"Thank you," I reply, not looking at Bill either.

"Look," he says, stumbling about for words. "You two will be alone all night. But, with me and the others knowing what's going on, it isn't private like it should be." Bill is examining his boots. "I'm really sorry about that."

This tension is unbearable and we desperately need a change of subject.

"The important thing is Hermione," I reply. "She does not deserve to be made uncomfortable. We must consider her feelings above anything else."

I have struck an acceptable note. Bill nods and makes eye contact for a moment, breaking the tension.

"Absolutely," he says, resolutely. "We owe it to her to keep things low key between us so we don't make her uncomfortable." He hesitates again and the tension is back. He raises his head and looks me straight in the eye.

"She really loves you, you know," says Bill. "When I was with her on Saturday, it was obvious."

It does not take a Legilimens to see that Bill holds Hermione in affection. Whether it is based in brotherly feelings, friendship, or something else entirely, Bill Weasley cares about Hermione. In this one single case, I owe it to him to make him understand. He has stood as her protector in the place where I cannot be publicly acknowledged.

"I love her," I reply, softly. "She has turned my world upside down and I find myself preferring it that way." I face Bill with a degree of openness in my expression that I rarely allow. "When all of this is over," I state, waving my hand to encompass the world and implying the war. "When we are free, I wish to Claim Hermione. I will court her with all of the honor and respect the rituals of our society will accord. I am not worthy of her and never will be. In spite of that, if she will agree, I will cherish her as the most precious thing in my life."

Bill's eyes soften.

"She deserves that," he says. "However this happened between the two of you, she deserves to be happy."

"Be good to her, Snape."

"You have my word."

-------------------------------------------

Sneak Peek from Chapter 79:

_Of course, I am not concerned about participating in a ritual that utilizes sex magic. _

_Certainly, I can hold up my end of things._

_Literally._

_Very well. Perhaps, I am a bit concerned._

_If Salazar Slytherin could go a year without sex and then postpone gratification long enough to complete the Virgo Curato ritual, so can I._

_House honor and all. I am Head of House for Slytherin. It is a worthy goal to uphold Salazar's sexual standards._

_No pressure there_

_I wish she'd hurry up._

The longest foreplay in the history of HG/SS fanfiction is about to come to an, erm, climax. So to speak.

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Readers have no idea how valuable it is to have some else read your work and point out the things you've screwed up before it is posted. For instance, this is one line in this chapter that Julia corrected:

"_I wouldn't forget that one," said Bill. "I also have the advantage of knowing where Gryffindors like to sneak off for snogfests."_

What I had originally typed was:

"_I wouldn't forget that one," said Bill. "I also have the advantage of knowing where Gryffindors like to sneak off for songfests."_

I'm not certain which of my readers would have pointed it out first, but Excessivelyperky or Jocemum would have had fun with it, to say nothing of Darque Hart. Then, there's Duj, who takes absolutely no prisoners. Bless you, Julia, for saving my hide, because I'd never live this one down.

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Thank you to all my reviewers: Severus-Naughty-Student, Lady Slone, Remus r us, Yapyap, Firestormpwr, Lipasnape, Odogoddess, Angie S, Trulyamused, Droxy, Heidi191976, Keske, o0morgana0o, KK Duke, Pstibbons, Oscarxena, MollysSister, Severessa, T wrecks, Sunsethill, Lyndie578, Martyjeannine, Silvertia, Latinachikita, Koliber, Danielle, Imbyrri, Dark Hart, Lilsnape, Darque Hart, Rinny08, Arime Setta, Broken2nite, Sweety-Pie5445, Slvrnight, AnokiNantaras, Andi-Scribbles, Artic Dragon, Maddie50, Kirien, Squeaker19450, Nirtak.Enaile, Duj, Wynnleaf, SlytherinTwinCC, Notwritten, Erytha, Angel-65, Squiggles.Candi, Wampelampe, Mugglemomof3, Shadow, Not so Chicken Little, Rock Royalty, Goddess Nemesis, xBobx, Kimjo, Belas, Amy, Evil Mastermind 666, Ready…aim…fire, Jocemum, Severelysnape, Spst, Padslet, Fanfictionfan, and Always-severus.


	79. Chapter 79

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Lady Whitehart for recommending the English to Latin translation website. The Virgo Curato ritual would not have been possible without it. Thank you to Julia for going through this chapter and suggesting better wording and a few spots that needed strengthening.

Thanks to all of the readers who have waited semi-patiently for this chapter to finally happen.

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Severus  
May 3rd, 1999

The last of the ingredients for my portion of the Virgo Curato is ready. Gathering the finely chopped dried rose petals, I pour them into the glass jar. It joins the row of other ingredients on the tray I will bring upstairs to the bedroom.

I look around the cellar laboratory at headquarters. It is neat and the surfaces gleam with cleanliness, except for the work area on the laboratory table in front of me. That is littered with bits of flowers and leaves, chopped, sliced, and pulverized on the cutting board.

We have done well in this space where we created our laboratory, Hermione and I. We brewed the Solvo Ira here and sabotaged the Dark Lord's plans. Our Cruciatus treatment was created in this space. The weapon against the Dark Lord is being developed here.

We came to know and love each other in this room.

One last task before I go upstairs to await the arrival of my Hermione.

I look down into the pen containing dozens of small snakes. I renew the warming charm so they are comfortable and dump the bucket of worms inside so that they may feed. Next, I check the large magically warded tempered glass aquarium containing the three-headed runespoor. Potter and the twins acquired it four nights ago, stealing it from a breeder in Surrey. He is a fine specimen and Potter reports that it is the most intelligent snake he has ever communed with.

Too bad we must addict it to the potion we will use on the Dark Lord.

The runespoor will only feed about once a week and Potter gave it a rat three days ago. Perhaps one fine day I shall introduce Wormtail to this exceptionally handsome orange and black striped fellow. Which head would do the job? Perhaps two of the heads could split the task. They can fight over the privilege of swallowing him whole or perhaps have a tug-of-war. Those are the kinds of thoughts that keep me warm at night.

Not tonight, however. I shall have Hermione to keep me warm this very night. I smile to myself in anticipation.

I drop the wards and open one of the secured cabinets. Reaching in, I select a bottle of Polyjuice. There is enough for twenty-four hours of doses. I place it atop a neatly folded stack of my clothing on the counter top. Bill will come down here and change into Professor Snape. A quick charm and a lock of my hair is severed and placed inside an envelope. It should be more than enough to disguise him for the amount of time Hermione and I have to be together.

I levitate the tray before me as I climb up the stairs. My thoughts are on the preparations I have made for the two of us.

At my request, the house-elves at Hogwarts prepared a cold repast for two and stowed it in a basket in my quarters so I could bring it with me this afternoon. Alongside the food were two bottles of elf-made Chateau de Chantegrive wine and a note from Minerva wishing us a lovely night. She must have persuaded a house-elf to deliver it.

Such thoughtfulness on her part. I must thank Minerva and share my Cuban cigars with her the next time I give Lucius a sound thrashing in poker.

Everything else is ready.

The small bottle of charmed bath salts, scented with sandalwood and cedar, are already in bathroom on the top floor of the townhouse. I will use that one for my ritual bath. My black silk nightshirt is in there, as well.

Hermione shall use the bathroom closest to the bedroom I use when I stay here overnight. She should have that accommodation. I have already inspected it. Dobby must have been given instructions to ensure that both bathrooms were immaculate and that fresh white towels were placed out for us to use in our separate ritual baths.

The bedroom has been tended as well. The bed is still enlarged from when we treated Hermione after the explosion of the topical Cruciatus potion. There is room for three people to sleep together comfortably. I guarantee that there shall only be the two of us in that bed tonight.

According to the requirements of the ritual, Hermione must prepare the bedroom. There are no linens on the bed. They are folded neatly in a pile on the chair. Hermione will make up the bed when she arrives and scatter the rose petals. As the virgin of our pair, she will do the ritual blessing of the bed.

I place the tray on the chest-of-drawers. I have cleared away the things that usually sit there so that it might be used as the altar for our purposes. A flat square piece of marble will serve as the altar stone. I place the small gold cauldron on top of it, carefully centered. The ingredients I have prepared are lined up on to the left of the altar stone. The two parchments inscribed with each step of the ritual are there as well.

Looking around the bedroom, there is nothing else I may do. Final preparations must be made by Hermione in her role as the maiden.

I take a deep breath and comb my fingers through my hair. I am as ready as I can be until we begin the ritual. The ritual does not begin until we take our baths.

The ritual to produce the Virgo Curato. We are actually going to attempt it. So few wizarding couples even try because one or both of the partners cannot meet the requirements to participate. One must be a true virgin, never having had intercourse before. The other must have been celibate for the year prior to the ritual.

I am deeply grateful that I have not succumbed to the temptation to use a prostitute to address my personal deprivation in the last year. It would have been distinctly uncomfortable to have had to admit to Hermione that I was not qualified to perform the ritual. I am likewise grateful that it is not expected that either partner refrain from self-gratification for one year before performing the ritual. I have certainly fantasized enough about Hermione and put my good right hand to sufficient use to grow a considerable amount of hair on my palm, if such stories were true.

I wonder if Slytherin did what I did this afternoon prior to performing the ritual? Those few couples who have attempted the ritual have largely failed because the wizard could not postpone his own gratification long enough to complete all of the steps.

It has been eighteen months since I had congress with the call girl in Chicago, a long dry spell. Although I am committed to giving the ritual my best effort, I thought I had better relieve a certain amount of tension prior to this evening. I indulged in a very pleasant fantasy about Hermione with a most satisfying culmination. It was my best hope of lasting long enough to finish the ritual without spilling myself prematurely.

I cannot help but sigh.

Hermione and Bill should be arriving in about ten minutes. I should go out in the yard and wait for them to arrive.

--------------------

I hear the pop of Apparition. Bill arrives first, holding Hermione's travel bag. An instant later, I hear the second pop and Hermione is here.

She looks lovely. Her hair is pulled up into a loose knot on top of her head with a few curling strands framing her face. Her dress is of a cotton material in a soft green that swirls about her ankles. She wears a white shawl against the cool of early evening in May. She looks as if she stepped out of a portrait painted in the Victorian era.

Hermione lifts her head and sees me. A slow smile crosses her lips. Her eyes widen and she glows with delight when she realizes I have been waiting for her.

Bill is looking down at her and smiles. He is fond of Hermione and it shows. He offers her his arm and she takes it, walking up the path where I await them by the door into the kitchen.

"Hermione," I murmur softly.

I hold out my hand to her and she takes it, releasing Bill's arm.

"Severus," she replies, her voice warm.

For an instant, we are alone in the world. There are only my eyes and hers, locked on each other. I break the contact and turn, tucking her small hand to the crook of my elbow. I open the door and the three of us walk into the kitchen.

It is so hard to take my eyes off of Hermione, but there is business to be done so we can send Bill on his way.

Bill puts Hermione's travel case on the kitchen table.

"You will find the Polyjuice and a change of clothing on the counter in the laboratory. There is enough for twenty-four hours," I explain to Bill as he looks at me attentively. "The hair is in the envelope."

"Thanks," says Bill, beginning to look uncomfortable. "In that case, I'll just go turn into you."

Hermione laughs.

"You do understand that you have to pass the swoop test before we'll let you leave," teases Hermione. "You have to demonstrate an acceptable robe billow and a swoop or the students won't believe that you're Severus Snape."

"I'm pretty sure I can do the swoop," boasts Weasley. "I'll bet you fifty galleons that I can even handle the sarcasm end of things. I took seven years of Potions classes and passed you in the halls a million times. But, I don't think anyone can billow their robes like you do."

"You can," I explain. "I will teach you the charm."

Bill Weasley and Hermione Granger are gaping at me open-mouthed like a pair of fish who have just been scooped out of their pond and plopped down on dry land.

"It really is a charm," says Hermione in wonderment, snapping out of it first.

"Of course it is," I reply, resting my hands on my hips.

Bill is giving me the equivalent of the evil eye.

"You have no idea how hard I have tried to billow my teaching robes the way that you do," says Bill, irritated. "I've practiced in my room in front of a mirror trying to do it and can't get the right effect. I thought it was a purely natural skill."

"You are being absurd," I reply, shaking my head. "No matter how fast I walk, I cannot get the billow without a strong head wind or the charm."

"You have to show us," says Hermione, enthusiastically. For a moment, I flash back to a glimpse of eleven year-old Hermione Granger, bouncing up and down in her chair with her hand raised as high as it will go, waving back and forth. Her exuberance at the thought of learning something new is readily apparent in her body language and facial expressions.

"Wait until after I'm Polyjuiced," proclaims Bill. "I have to be wearing robes to make sure I've got it right. Give me a few minutes to do the changes and I'll be back."

Without waiting for me to comment, Bill dashes out of the kitchen towards the stairs to the cellar.

The instant Bill is out of the room; Hermione crosses it and reaches out to wrap her arms around my waist. I respond immediately and pull her close and drop my head for a kiss.

Such a kiss it is. I have fantasized about kissing Hermione. In those fantasies, her lips are soft and the depths of her mouth warm and welcoming. Her mouth moves against mine and she suckles on my tongue.

The real thing is so much better than the fantasy. I forgot to include her taste in my fantasies or the little sounds she is making at the back of her throat. I did not anticipate feeling the heat travel up my spine at the feeling of her fingers caressing their way up my back. Nor did I correctly place exactly where her breasts would press against me when we are standing.

The pressing part would go better if she was taller or I was shorter. It requires a good deal of stretching up on her part and bending down on mine to make the kissing work

It works extraordinarily well as I feel Hermione's hands flutter up to my shoulders. Our kisses deepen and our hands move across backs, down sides. I run my hand down her curves to cup her rear end and pull her tighter against me.

We can do this. We can have this. Tonight. Now.

Stop.

Stop. I have to order myself to stop. We have the ritual.

I pull back and open my eyes. Hermione is looking up at me with her soft brown eyes. Her lips are parted and just a little swollen. Her skin is flushed and her breathing is rapid. She is aroused by kissing me.

I, Severus Snape, turn her on.

Part of me is bubbling up in triumph. There is still a boy inside of me who was too shy and too awkward to ever get the girl I wanted. Tonight, I have the smartest and most admired girl at the ball and she is mine. She has chosen me when she could have had anyone.

I pull her close and draw her head against me. I just want to hold her for a while. Hermione relaxes into my embrace.

"Hello, Severus," she whispers, resting her cheek against me.

"I am very pleased you are here, Hermione," I return.

We hear the footsteps coming down the hallway towards the kitchen. They no longer sound like Bill's. Neither of us sees any reason to spring apart, but we turn so we can see Bill as he comes into the kitchen.

It is a very strange feeling to see myself walk in through the door.

"I should take House points for snogging a student, Snape," drawls the man with my voice.

"She is not my student any longer," I reply, without any vitriol whatsoever. It is very strange to see myself. Hermione and I let go of each other so we can walk around and take a good look at Bill. He responds by sneering and crossing his arms across his chest.

"You did that really well, Bill," praises Hermione as she examines his face closely. "You've got the sneer down pat."

I wonder if I should be offended.

Hermione winds her way back to me, still looking at Bill. She puts her hands on my arm and pulls me down a bit so she can whisper in my ear.

"Other people may not understand, but I find your sneers rather sexy these days. They are so _you_."

Sexy. Hermione finds me sexy. Were I a less modest man, I would be preening right now.

I give her an indulgent smile.

"I stand ready to learn the billowing charm," announces Bill in a supercilious tone. Surely, I do not sound quite like that. I think I am more disdainful than supercilious. It is a fine difference, but an important one. Lucius is supercilious. I am disdainful. Minerva can be haughty. Albus is never haughty.

"Very well," I reply, returning my focus to this moment. "Each robe must be spelled separately in order to get the correct effect. You must understand that when I experimented with billowing, I wanted to emphasize my height and add drama so I could intimidate the students. I developed the first version of this charm the first few months I was a teacher and was dealing with students who had known me as a student or were as few as three years younger than me."

I take out my wand so I can demonstrate the wand movements when I am ready.

"I discovered that I wanted the robes to move only when I walked," I continue. "It is most disconcerting to have one's robes billowing when standing still. I will admit on a few occasions, I have allowed my robes to billow when I am still in order to look very powerful."

I refrain from mentioning that the first time Minerva saw my robes billowing while I was standing still, she asked if I had two wrestling elves hidden underneath them. I was twenty-two at the time and embarrassed. Now, I would have simply replied _yes _and let her make of it what she will.

"This required a rather long and wordy charm to establish the conditions of billowing," I explain. "After experimenting with a variety of different wordings, I currently use: _This garment shall billow as if a soft wind reaches beneath it and be still when I am still_."

Bill and Hermione are gazing at me, transfixed.

"Thus we have the charm; _Is vestis vadum unda tanquam a ventulus pervenio subter supter is quod exsisto etiam ut Ego sum etiam."_

I can see Bill with my face moving my lips in intense concentration as he silently repeats the charm.

"The wand movements are simple enough," I instruct. "I envision my robes as my armor and use the rune _Algiz,_ representing protection, and attach it to the robe with a flick."

Bill is shrugging off my outer robe and pulls out his wand.

"Uh-oh," says Hermione as we all recognize a flaw in the disguise. Bill's wand is a light wood. Mine is ebony.

"A glamour can take care of this," says Bill, "If you wouldn't mind doing the honors?"

A few words and a wand wave and Bill is holding a twelve inch ebony wand.

"A glamour won't effect the wand's ability to work?" asks Hermione.

"I wouldn't go into a duel with a glamoured wand," replies Bill with my voice, "But, this should suffice for one night. I can always remove the glamour, if necessary."

"Test it with the charm," suggests Hermione.

---------------------------

Bill is walking towards the apparition point in the backyard. My robes, worn by his body that looks identical to mine, billow in a most satisfactory manner.

"The billow works," says Hermione.

"You have performed the charm correctly," I confirm.

"In that case," says Bill, "I think I'm ready to go back to Hogwarts."

I think of one more thing that I need to tell him.

"If it should happen that I am summoned by the Dark Lord," I tell him, "I will have to leave straight away. Hermione will contact Lupin who will get word to you at Hogwarts. I believe the safest thing for you to do would be to come here as soon as you can and return to your natural appearance."

Hermione comes to my side and gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. She has no idea how often I have been summoned in the last few days and just how devastating those summonses have been. I do not intend to tell her more than she already knows until after we complete the ritual.

"Understood," replies Bill. "In that case, I will take my leave. I'll return tomorrow morning at 7:30 am. When I'm here, I'll revert back to Bill Weasley and Hermione and I will go to Hogwarts." He nods to Hermione.

"I will return to Hogwarts after both of you and join you in the Headmaster's suite,"

"That should take care of everything," says Bill.

"Thank you for everything," says Hermione softly from her place at my side.

"Indeed," I add.

This is very awkward, but it would lack dignity to ask Bill to please leave so I can go about the business of shagging Hermione.

"You are most welcome," replies Bill in my voice. He adjusts my robes on his shoulders, which also appear to be mine. He nods and my hair falls forward on his face, which is also mine. Looking at it critically, I must acknowledge that the technique of hiding my face with my hair is less effective than I thought. I would have to tilt my head down at an unnatural angle to truly hide my face. I shall have to rethink this.

"I will see you in the morning," says Bill and then he vanishes.

"Alone at last," sighs Hermione.

"Indeed," I reply, as we turn back towards the house.

"Did you get any rest at all last night?" asks Hermione.

"I slept well enough that there should not be any issue with being able to stay sufficiently awake and alert to see to our mutual needs," I reply in a rather Slytherin manner of teasing.

She looks up at me, blushing.

"I – I didn't mean it like that," she stammers, embarrassed. "It's just that you had to teach today, while I stayed home and had time to, erm, get things together. Get prepared, as it were."

We have been so open with each other about our unfulfilled desires over the past few weeks; I have paid little heed to how inexperienced Hermione really is. It is one thing to banter about our anticipated sexual relationship through journals when we are not in each other's presence. It is another thing to be together when we have barely progressed beyond kissing.

"Hermione," I murmur in my most seductive voice. "I know you were asking out of concern for me and I chose to tease you in return." She lifts her face to me and I bring my hand to her face and stroke the side of her face and draw my thumb across her lower lip. She closes her eyes and leans into the touch. I drop my head and kiss her gently, in a manner I hope she will find reassuring. She moves closer to me and her arms wrap around my waist. She responds tentatively to the pressure of my lips on hers and allows my tongue to do a bit of exploring.

I am so looking forward to tonight, which reminds me to save it for tonight.

I pull my head back and gaze down at her. Her eyes are still closed and I can see that she is reluctant to stop. Hermione takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. We simply look at each other for a moment when she moves closer and rests her head against my shoulder.

"I love you," she whispers.

I smile to myself. We did promise to say it aloud the next time we were together.

"I love you, too," I whisper in response.

I wait rather anxiously for the world to end or some other form of doom to befall us. Instead, the world continues to revolve as we hold each other in the kitchen. I am inordinately pleased that nothing dire has happened before I have the opportunity to enjoy sex for the first time in well over a year. Besides, if the world is going to end, I prefer not to be in the kitchen of headquarters when it happens.

"That was easier than I thought it might be," says Hermione into my shoulder.

"Easier than I had anticipated," I reply with my face buried in her hair. Will she think I am inappropriately eager if I encourage her to begin preparations for the ritual? Perhaps a little more touching might get her mind working in the proper direction?

I move my hands a little further south with the intent of exploring her lower back and hips through this lovely dress she is wearing. My hands move in slow circles until I am caressing her buttocks and pulling her against me in a decidedly intimate manner. She makes little noises at the back of her throat, so I daresay my plan to turn her interest to more physical matters is working. Hermione's hands are moving, up and down my back. This would be better if I were not wearing robes. This would be better if I were not wearing anything at all.

She shifts and her head is now in a position where it is possible to kiss her. I begin with her forehead, move to her eyes, and the corner of her mouth. Instead of repeating our earlier bit of tongue exploration, I continue to travel down to her neck to give it detailed attention. Hermione is offering full cooperation by tilting her head so that I might have better access. The little noises are coming more frequently and she is clutching my shoulders, leading me to suspect that she is thoroughly enjoying my ministrations to her lovely person.

My lips are working their way to the hollow at the base of her throat when the clutching of my shoulders tightens and I realize Hermione is attempting to say something.

"M – Maybe….," she starts to say. I believe I have interrupted her train of thought while drawing the tip of my tongue across the aforementioned hollow.

"Mmmmmmm, what?" I murmur in between nibbles.

"Do you……" she says. "Ohhhh, that feels nice," she moans. "I – I, erm, think…."

"Think what?" I whisper in my silkiest tones.

"Shouldn't we…. Maybe?" she says, a bit incoherently. She tightens her hold on my shoulders and pulls back just a bit. I feel rather disappointed that my plan worked and we shall have to stop our preliminaries in order to engage in other preliminaries. I cease my tactile exploration of Hermione's neck and raise my head to give her an opportunity to recover a bit.

I shall let her suggest we make preparations to start the ritual.

Hermione opens her eyes and seems to have gathered herself together. I am entirely pleased that I was able to make her surrender her composure. I am really looking forward to more of this.

"I think that maybe we should get everything ready," she says breathlessly.

"Were you able to obtain everything you need?" I ask.

"Bill brought the rose petals from the greenhouses at Hogwarts," she replies. "That is the only thing I didn't have."

"It appears that Dobby cleaned the bedroom and bathrooms," I tell her. "I brought the gold cauldron and altar stone. My ingredients are already in place. There are clean linens." I leave off the statement that Hermione is supposed to make the bed and do the blessings.

"It's my job to make up the bed," replies Hermione, mentally checking her list..

I allow only the tiniest smirk.

"Unless you want to be the virgin," she adds, with just a tiny bit of sarcasm almost disguised by the twinkle in her eyes.

"I fear it is too late for that," I reply, moving closer to her.

"In any magical ritual," she says, snidely, "it seems like the virgins always have to do the heavy lifting."

I cannot believe Hermione just made a smutty joke and I burst out laughing. I do not think she realized exactly how her wording might be interpreted. Hermione is blushing as deep a pink as I have ever seen. I wrap my arms around her and whisper in her ear.

"You have my word that you will not have to bear all of the weight and I will make it as enjoyable for you as I possibly can."

"I feel like an idiot," she mutters more to herself than to me.

"No, just a little nervous," I assure her. We stand together with our arms around each other. A few moments of reassurance before we adjourn to finish preparations and take our ritual baths.

"I'll need about forty-five minutes to make up the bed, complete the other final preparations and take my bath," says Hermione.

"Then I shall go and take my bath and I will wait for you outside of the bathroom door. The ritual calls for you to enter the bedroom first and then invite me to come in," I reply. "At that point, everything we say must be in Latin according to Salazar Slytherin's script."

"I've been studying it and practicing the pronunciation," says Hermione. She blushes again. "I'm ready. I found a spell that detects ovulation and I shouldn't be fertile right now."

"That is reassuring," I reply, "considering that neither of us is in a good position to deal with the complications of progeny at the moment."

Hermione is smiling again.

"In that case," she says, "I think we should make the best possible use of the time we have between now and tomorrow morning."

Hermione holds out her hand to me. I pick up her overnight bag, take her hand, and we walk upstairs together. For the next twelve hours, I am determined to keep the outside world away.

---------------------------

She said it would take forty-five minutes. It is now an hour. I suspect it may have something to do with magic being forbidden in the preparations for the ritual. A few minutes ago, I heard this roaring sound issue from the bathroom that I think might possibly be a muggle hair dryer.

I let my hair drip dry. It is still a little damp.

I suppose Hermione's long curling hair would take longer without some form of intervention.

I wonder if the hair dryer has the same plastic sleeving on it that my calculator and CD player have in order to keep them from burning out in the magical environment of the townhouse?

If so, how would the air get through the device?

I prefer to speculate about the hair dryer to keep myself from thinking about sex.

Of course, I am not concerned about participating in a ritual that utilizes sex magic.

Certainly, I can hold up my end of things.

Literally.

Very well. Perhaps I am a bit concerned.

If Salazar Slytherin could go a year without sex and then postpone gratification long enough to complete the Virgo Curato ritual, so can I.

House honor and all that. I am Head of House for Slytherin. It is a worthy goal to uphold Salazar's sexual standards.

No pressure there

I wish she'd hurry up.

The noise from the probable hair dryer has stopped. Surely she will only need a few more minutes?

I look down and realize I am tapping my bare foot. Stop that. For one thing, it is nowhere near as satisfying as tapping a foot shod in a dragonhide boot.

There is noise right by the door. I straighten up and make sure I look as dignified as I can while wearing a floor length black silk nightshirt with long sleeves. At least it is laced together, rather than buttoned so that should make it sexier.

I would like to be sexy. I do not want to be fast.

The door opens and Hermione steps out.

The sight of her takes my breath away. Her eyes are shining and she smiles at me shyly. We cannot speak now, nor can we touch. If I could speak, I would tell her that she is exquisite. Her hair curls softly about her shoulders. She is wearing the most enticing garment I have ever seen. The beige lace of the bodice fits closely and outlines her firm young breasts. I can see her skin through the lace and a hint of her nipples. The lace fabric is gathered beneath her breasts and attached to a beige satin skirt that drapes elegantly across her shapely hips and down to the floor.

This nightdress she wears was made for seduction and yet Hermione is utterly innocent. This is a combination that would be the death of me if I did not know that the latter will change this evening.

She gives me one more smile and sweeps past me into the bedroom to take her place inside the door so that the ritual may begin. I take my place too, standing a few feet in front of her, outside of the door. The first words in the ritual are mine.

"Ego, Severus , prex ventus of Hermione, mulier quisnam habitum meus pectus pectoris."

("_**I, Severus, request the favor of Hermione, the woman who holds my heart.**_")

"I, Hermione, tribuo meus ventus ut Severus , vir quisnam habitum meus pectus pectoris," she replies.

("_**I, Hermione, grant my favor to Severus, the man who holds my heart**_.")

Hermione steps aside and allows me to walk past her. I feel the tingle of magic as the blessing spells confirm their presence. I cannot help but look at the bed where Hermione and I will soon consummate our relationship. The linens are purest white and sprinkled with fresh rose petals. There are petals in deepest red to symbolize love and white petals to symbolize purity. The purple petals are from roses of a magical species, representing enchantment and the moment of falling in love.

The blessings on the bedroom combined with the magic of the ritual will impel Hermione and me to come together in the most intimate of ways. Not that it would take much in the way of magical compulsion for either of us.

Now it is time to begin.

Hermione and I stand side-by-side in front of the bureau that will serve as the ceremonial altar. After speaking the Latin words to the spell that will channel our magical energy through our wands, we carefully lay them on either side of the gold cauldron. The ingredients Hermione prepared are lined up in order of use next to her wand. Mine are similarly organized in the space next to mine.

Both wands are spelled to transmit the love and passion generated by our participation in the ritual into the potion inside the cauldron. The fire that will heat and merge the ingredients of the potion will come from us and not from a traditional flame.

The parchments giving us the words to say and each step to follow float before us so that we may follow the ritual exactly.

Hermione is beautiful in this lovely bit of lace and satin she wears. The deep v neckline shows her cleavage and the lace is molded to her breasts, which I shall be touching before very long. Her eyes are wide and her smile is reassuring. She is looking at me with a gaze I would describe as loving.

I hope my features are similarly arranged.

The ritual begins as I bow to her. It must present an unusual sight to do so in my long black silk nightshirt.

She returns the action as a curtsey. We will face each other as we speak.

"Ego amo vos_,"_ I say. (_**I love you**_)

"Ego amo vos_,"_ she responds. (_**I love you**_)

We both turn to the altar and take the flagons of water. We pour them simultaneously into the cauldron. We raise our hands over the cauldron and slowly draw the rune Raido to symbolize the beginning of our journey.

Turning back to face each other, I follow the next step and bend to kiss her. The kiss is gentle and affectionate.

"Permissum nos partum curatio," she says, following the words of the ritual. "Permissum nostrum amo exsisto effor per nostrum perturbatio. Permitto depth nostri amo quod perturbatio exsisto obduco in is venenum nos mos partum una."

_**("Permit us to bring forth healing. Let our love be expressed through our passion. Allow the depth of our love and passion be passed into this potion we will create together.**__")_

"Permitto oris nostri commitment ut invicem exsisto pondero per vox of curatio nos partum is nox noctis," I intone.

_("__**Allow the expression of our commitment to each other to be reflected by the power of the healing we create this night**_.")

We turn and each take a rose quartz crystal and simultaneously drop them into the cauldron.

"Es vos a virgo verus quod addo vestrum virgo ut is ritus quod ut mihi in nostrum cubile?" I ask her.

("_**Are you a maiden true and bring your virginity to this ritual and to me in our bed**__")_

"Ego have notus haud man's tactus quod addo meus virgo ut a donum ut is ritus quod vobis in nostrum cubile. Is est a donum Ego tribuo per amo," replies Hermione with a glowing smile. "Operor vos addo vestri virgo ut is ritus quod ut mihi in nostrum cubile?

_("__**I have known no man's touch and bring my virginity as a gift to this ritual and to you in our bed. It is a gift I give with love.**_ _**Do you bring your virginity to this ritual and to me in our bed**__?")_

"Haud," I respond. "Operor non addo talis sanctimonia ut is ritus quod nostrum cubile , tamen Ego addo amo in superficies. Meus amo est putus quod verus. Meus pectus pectoris est donatus plene. Ego have ago integer pro unus annus, gnarus vir neque nec mulier."

_("__**No**__**I cannot bring such purity to this ritual and our bed, but I bring love in surfeit. My love is pure and true. My heart is given completely. I have lived untouched for one year, knowing neither man nor woman.")**_

"Ego recipero vestry amo in locus sanctimonia," replies Hermione. "Ego recipero sanctimonia of vestri amo quod vestri pectus pectoris in meus servo tutus."

_**"I accept your love in place of physical purity. I accept the purity of your love and take your heart into my safekeeping.")**_

We turn and add our measures of lavender.

We face each other and Hermione reaches up to touch my face. She strokes her thumb and hand from the corner of my eye, across my cheekbone and down to my chin. I turn my head to kiss her palm.

We turn and add meadowsweet to the potion

Facing each other, I cup Hermione's chin in my hand and bend and kiss her crown chakra at the top of her head. I tip her chin back and kiss her forehead at the third eye. I bend deeply and kiss her throat chakra. Hermione sighs.

I release her and pour a measure of horse chestnut seed extract into the cauldron.

Turning, I face Hermione again. She reaches up and places her hand behind my neck to draw me down. She kisses me again and her lips are soft and warm against mine. Following the ritual, I open my mouth and her tongue slips inside to stroke my own. I must remain passive and allow her exploration without seeking to explore her mouth in return.

She pulls away and turns to pour in the measure of myrrh resin.

Hermione turns towards me and I put my hands on her shoulders. I draw her close and put my arms around her. She rests her head against my shoulder and I hold her quietly for a moment.

I release her and place an aquamarine crystal into the potion.

Hermione returns to my arms and I kiss her again. My lips explore her closed eyes, her temple, the tip of her nose, and the side of her mouth. She opens her mouth and I am free to explore. She tastes of mint and of something uniquely her own. My arms tighten around her and I must remind myself to let her go to complete the next step.

She steps back and takes a few deep breaths, gazing into my eyes. We do not want to break eye contact, but she does by closing her eyes for a moment. She turns and adds a small measure of arnica.

When she faces me again, I take a step towards her and run my hands down the sides of her neck to her shoulders, feeling the soft smoothness of her skin against my fingers and palms. I run my hands down her bare arms, feeling her shudder as she responds to my touch. I take her hands in mine and draw them up to kiss her fingers. I turn her hands over and kiss her palms.

Once again, I release her and pour fenugreek into the cauldron.

Hermione is close to me. She pulls me down for another kiss and draws her hands across my nightshirt clad shoulders. Her lips move to my jaw and down my neck. I can feel my breath quickening. Her touch feels so good and I close my eyes.

I revel in the feeling of her lips against my neck. I can feel her tongue… Do not stop.

My breath catches as she stops. She moves away from me and it is all I can do to refrain from pulling her back. I watch her through half closed eyes as she drops a citrine crystal into the cauldron.

My turn.

With a quick glance to the floating parchment of instructions, Hermione returns to my arms. She tips her head back and I kiss my way down the side of her neck. She shivers and I can feel her breasts pressed against me through our nightwear. Her nipples tighten and I catch the first scent of arousal. I kiss along her collarbone, pushing aside the strap of the nightgown she wears. My lips move against her shoulder and I allow my teeth to give the lightest scrape to her skin. My tongue soothes the spot and Hermione moans.

She is languorous in my arms. I begin to pull away, but continue to hold her as she recovers. She slowly opens her eyes, which are looking rather dazed. She is holding onto my arms to keep herself upright. She gives me a small nod and steps back, releasing my arms.

I drop a small ruby into the potion and recite, _"Ego spondeo meus amo ut Ego spondeo meus somes." _I draw the rune Gebo to symbolize the giving of a gift.

("_**I pledge my love as I pledge my body**__.")_

Hermione stands in front of me. Her pupils are dilated and her body is begging to be touched. I look at the instructions and smile. My hands return to her shoulders and I kiss her neck again. She makes a little noise and tilts her head back to offer better access. My hands move down her shoulders, tracing the lacy straps of this lovely form-fitting nightdress she wears. My fingertips move slowly down the sides of her breasts. My hands are below her lace clad breasts and move up so the weight of those breasts rests against my palms and my fingers curl around the sides. My thumbs move to her nipples and I begin to stroke back and forth.

They harden further, becoming tight pebbles beneath my touch.

Hermione moans.

I love the sound of her moans. I feel a wave of pleasure travel down my spine as surely as if she were kissing her way down my back.

My hands move across her breasts, exploring and stroking through the lace.

I do not want to stop.

I must stop. My hands still and drop to her waist to support her as she recovers again.

When she can stand without me holding her upright, I pour the echinacea into the potion.

I step towards Hermione, eager to return to the touching portion of the ritual. She comes closer, the very tips of her breasts brushing against my chest as she reaches up to unlace my nightshirt. Pulling at the laces, she spreads the neck opening as wide as it will go.

Her hands on my shoulders, Hermione nuzzles the bare skin of my chest through the opening in my nightshirt.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

She kisses my chest. Her tongue is moving against my skin.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh. I like this a lot. Keep going. Oh yes, her hands are running down my back and caressing as they go. That is so nice.

She is kissing my heart chakra.

Her hands….

Her hands….

I had no idea my nipples could be so sensitive underneath the silk.

Oh.

Good girl. Keep doing that with your tongue.

I almost grab her head to bring her mouth back to my nipple when she moves away.

My breathing is very rapid. I open my eyes and see her sweet face. Her lips are swollen and she is licking them.

Oh, her tongue. Her wonderful tongue.

I catch my breath as Hermione adds whole hawthorn berries to the potion. She draws the rune Naudiz to express our need.

I am more grateful than I can say when Hermione returns and her hands move over my body again. She starts with my lower back and works her way up my spine to my shoulders. All the while, she is kissing my skin through the opening in my nightshirt. Hermione shifts, moving around me so that she is kissing my back through the silk.

She is kissing her way up my spine, just as I had hoped.

Yes.

Keep doing that.

Oh my. Her hands are coming around me and stroking my abdomen.

OH MY.

Slow it down, Hermione.

Hear what I am thinking and slow it down.

I have to last.

I have to wait.

She stops.

She is putting the emerald into the cauldron.

I am on my knees when she returns to my arms. I bring her close and nuzzle between her breasts. She gasps as my mouth works its way over to her nipple. I take it in my mouth, suckling through the lace. Her back arches as my mouth works and my hands roam south to cup her buttocks. The satin of this gown she wears feels so soft and smooth.

I want to rip it off. I want Hermione naked and I want her that way NOW.

She must be able to feel how aroused I am, pressed against her.

Hermione moans and rolls her head back, reveling in the pleasure of my mouth and hands.

This would be better if we were naked.

The ritual.

I must do the next step in the ritual.

I move my head down and kiss the chakra at her solar plexus.

I can feel the magical energy building between us.

It is like sparks down my spine and across my skin.

I slow down. It is not time. Not yet.

Hermione realizes and moves her hands away from where she has been holding my head to her breasts. She moves away.

I am panting as I try to regain some self-control.

Hermione adds the milk thistle.

I stand up again. I would really rather lie down now.

I would rather roll around on the floor with Hermione.

I look at the parchment. How many more steps? Can I hold on that long?

Following the ritual, I kiss Hermione. Her mouth opens and my tongue is welcome inside.

My hands and my mouth work their way down her body until I am kissing her navel through the satin. My arms and hands are holding her tight against me and her hands are on my shoulders as I caress her and kiss her and lave her with my tongue.

I love her.

I love Hermione with my hands and my mouth. My hands run down her legs. My mouth is so close to the juncture. I can feel the springy texture of tight curls through the fabric as I press my lips against her. I have kissed her sacral chakra

She is moaning and gasping. She is writhing in my arms, overwhelmed by sensation.

The magic is building again. It is an irresistible heat.

I have to stop. I have to.

The ritual.

Almost there.

I stop. Gasp. I stop.

I release Hermione and crawl back.

I pull myself up and drop the carnelian into the cauldron.

Hermione is on her knees waiting for me.

I look down into her eyes. I love you. I want you. Please.

She wants this.

She puts her arms around my waist and I am pressed against her.

My nightshirt is tented around the erection that threatens to burn its way through the silk.

Hermione drops her eyes and is looking at it.

Oh, yes. Look at it. Touch it.

She rubs her face against the silk.

Her mouth.

Kissing.

Oh, my God

Do not lose it.

Do not let go.

Oh, yes

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Hold.

I cannot

STOP

The root chakra.

DO NOT RELEASE

Hermione stops.

I am so close

I am so close

WE HAVE TO

She stands.

We turn.

Rose petals.

Rose quartz.

The rune Wunjo for joy

"Ego amo vos."

("_**I love you**_.")

"Ego amo vos."

("_**I love you**_.")

I am pulling down the straps of her nightgown. Tugging. A pool of lace and satin on the floor.

Beautiful. So beautiful. Perfect.

The black silk over my head.

Tumble onto the bed.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Soft.

Smooth.

Hands

Fingers

Touch

Stroke

Caress

So soft.

So smooth.

Touching, holding, kissing.

Sucking.

Moans.

FEELS

SO

GOOD

Hermione, Hermione

"Etiam?"

_("__**Yes?**__")_

"Commodo, etiam!"

_("__**Please, yes**__!")_

Pushing

Tight

Hot

PUSH

OH, THE MAGIC

"SEVERUS!"

Moving slow

Moving

Moving fast

Moans

So good

So good

FEEL THE MAGIC

SO GOOD

SO GOOD

MAGIC

MAGIC

MAGIC

COMING

_OHHHHHHHHHHH!_

Breathe

Breathe

Breathe

"Ego amo vos."

(_"__**I love you**_.")

"Ego amo vos."

(_"__**I love you**_.")

Breathe

Breathe

"Mos vos permoveo a parum? Vestri armo est pinching meus papilla."

("_**Will you move a little? Your arm is pinching my nipple**_.")

"Nimirum. Melior?"

("_**Of course. Better?**_")

Mmmmmmmmmmm.

------------------------------

Author's notes

My apologies to Latin scholars everywhere for the possibility that I may have massacred the language in my attempts to produce the Virgo Curato ritual.

These are things that are part of the ritual and what they represent:

Elder Futhark Rune Raido: Journey  
Rose quartz: Love and balance  
Lavender: For love  
Meadowsweet: Love and relief of rheumatism  
Crown Chakra: The chakra of consciousness  
Third Eye: Chakra of awareness and light  
Throat Chakra: Chakra of growth and communication  
Horse chestnut: For circulation  
Myrrh: For inflammation of the mouth and throat  
Aquamarine: For calming  
Arnica: For pain and inflammation  
Fenugeek: For circulation  
Citrine: Internal cleansing and mental clarity  
Ruby: Infections, blood cleansing, impotence, love and courage  
Elder Futhark Rune Gebo: Gift  
Echinacea: Immune system  
Heart Chakra: Chakra of emotion, well-being, love  
Hawthorn: Heart health  
Elder Futhark Rune Nadiz: Need  
Emerald: Respiratory system, heart, harmony, love, monogamy  
Milk thistle: Liver  
Carnelian: Reproduction

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Artic Dragon, Firestormpwr, Pstibbons, Madamesnape78, Brotherchaos, Marble Meadow, FarmerLiz, KarenDetroit, Me613, Lipasnape, Lady Slone, Kirien, Arsinoe De Blassenville, Heidi191976, Always-severus, Sunsethill, T wrecks, Duj, StormMasters, Odogoddess, o0morgana0o, Droxy, Excessivelyperky, Andi-Scribbles, Jade2099, Oscarxena, Notwritten, Wynnleaf, Sweety-Pie5445, Squiggles.Candi, Katyes, Martyjeannine, Yapyap, Nirtak.Enaile, Keske, Padslet, Instar, KK Duke, Darque Hart, Aldara, Remus r us, Koliber, Lyndie578, Pure Girl, MollysSister, Ebbe04, Emperor's Sister, Nebrets, Kimjo, Silvrnight, Truly Amused, Kakashidiot, Rinny08, Eden Snape, Squeaker19450, Princessfiona, Kakashidiot, Latinachikita, Danielle, Not so Chicken Little, Pyro313, Crystalclear0, Erytha, Belas, Spst, Nutters4Potter, Nesa, Mennie, Maddie50, Evil-mastermind666, Elescave, NervousAboutAngels, Teri, Smiles28, Arime Setta, La009, and Elandria.

For those of you who scrolled down this far, a little reward. The night isn't even half over, yet. From Chapter 80:

"Everything I ever fantasized about Severus' hands has come true. He touches me so carefully and with such precision. It is as if his fingertips are magically sensitized so that he knows just where to touch, how much pressure to apply, and when to move them. His fingers are long and narrow and the whole of his hand can cover a surprising amount of skin."


	80. Chapter 80

I don't own any of this.

Thank you to Julia for giving her input into this chapter in spite of a whole lot of real life going on. Congratulations to Katyes who has translated 60 chapters of Looking for Magic into German. It's a huge project she has taken on.

-----------------------------------------  
May 4th, 1999

Hermione

The moonlight coming in the bedroom window is just enough to illuminate Severus' bare shoulder as he sleeps. I've been watching him for the last hour, ever since I woke up from my own nap.

He's facing me, having just turned over and his face is hidden in shadow. I think he's a side sleeper.

Severus snores, just a little.

I can't help but smile. My former professor is stark naked underneath the coverlet and I just happen to be equally naked lying right next to him. Well, not exactly right next to him. We aren't touching at the moment and I don't want to wake him.

One year ago, this would have been unthinkable. Anyone who might have suggested such a thing to me would have been on the receiving end of a very cold shoulder. I wouldn't have even considered dignifying such an insinuation with a response.

Everything is different in ways I could never have anticipated. It started with our talk atop the Astronomy Tower a month after Mum and Dad were killed. I never saw Professor Snape in quite the same way after that. I knew him to be someone with the capacity for compassion, as long as you caught him alone and under the right circumstances. When we started working together on the Solvo Ira potion, it turned into a sort of friendship.

That's really when I started to be attracted to him, my fantasies about hands with long tapered fingers notwithstanding.

By Christmas, I knew I loved him.

From the bits and pieces I can remember from when I was injured by the Crucio potion, Severus was there taking care of me in ways that felt like love. When he kissed me, I knew my feelings were returned.

Tonight, we became lovers.

I'm so happy, I could leap on him. If he weren't so worn out from lack of sleep, I'd do it.

If Severus were awake right now, he'd see the glow from the cauldron of the Virgo Curato over my bare shoulder. I've let the coverlet slip just a little to give him a glimpse of breast when he wakes up. We might have completed the ritual, but the night is most definitely not over. I have expectations he needs to live up to.

Not that he hasn't managed to live up to my expectations, so far. I know he was worried that he wouldn't be able to postpone gratification long enough to complete the ritual. He certainly did manage to hold off his own and see to mine. I wonder if the magic in the ritual is responsible for the last part? I've always heard that the first time was supposed to hurt. I was uncomfortable at first, but it didn't take long to get caught up in things. A Severus induced orgasm is ever so much more satisfying than one from the vibrator. A big part of my enjoyment was in knowing that he was enjoying it so much.

We did it!

We completed the Virgo Curato ritual and the small cauldron on the bureau contains the most powerful healing potion ever invented. In the one thousand years since Salazar and Anne Slytherin created it, perhaps fifty couples have been able to replicate it.

Severus and I did it!

After we caught our breath, Severus got out of the bed and spooned a little of the potion into a glass vial. He was starkers and I must say that he has a very nice arse, which I made a point of admiring as he walked across the room. He doesn't seem to be very self-conscious about being naked in front of me. It must be a guy thing.

Severus brought the vial back to the bed so we could look at it. It is the rich emerald green of the highly effective version of the potion. Lighter colors reflect a couple who hold each other in affection, but are not truly, madly, deeply in love. The deep color can only be created by a couple whose love is genuine and lasting.

It is a real life expression of our feelings that no one will be able to deny. When we give the vials to the people we care about, they will know that it means we truly love each other. If they don't, I'll be happy to explain it to them in detail.

Perhaps not _all_ of the details.

Severus is stirring. He's shifting his leg and it just brushed up against mine.

That must have startled him because his eyes just popped open. I reach over to touch his face and his hand darts up and grabs my wrist.

"Hermione," he says as if he is checking to see if it really is me.

"Severus," I answer with what I hope is a warm and loving smile.

The hold on my wrist relaxes to a caress that brings my hand to his lips. He kisses my palm tenderly.

"I hope that I did not hurt you," he says softly, his lips moving across the top of my hand. "I am accustomed to sleeping alone and your presence startled me."

"My hand will be fine with all of the attention you are giving it," is my soft reply. I flex my wrist a little to demonstrate and so that I can caress his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the touch.

"It is just as well that I woke. I had the most peculiar dream," he says. I can tell he's reluctant to talk about it. I give him a little encouragement in the form of snuggling closer.

"What was it about?" I ask him. Severus yawns.

"The Dark Lord was trying to achieve immortality by splitting his soul, of all things," he murmurs. "Each time he split off a piece, he would put it into an object. I vaguely remember something about a ring and a locket. There may have been some other things, too. He seemed to believe that if his body was killed, somehow these other pieces of soul would keep him from crossing over and give him time to find another body to inhabit."

"That is absolutely bizarre, but strange things somehow make sense in dreams," I reply, stroking his arm beneath the blanket. This lying naked together thing is really pleasant. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"As I recall, Murgatroyd the Moronic tried that during the eighteenth century," replies Severus, shifting a bit to give my hand better access to his chest.

"I take it that didn't go well?" I ask, exploring the feeling of the muscles beneath the skin of Severus' pectorals.

"Certainly not," he says, sounding a bit distracted. "He split himself in two, body and soul. His body did not survive the experiment, even though his soul did. His ghost split into two parts and haunts the house where he lived. I suppose there is some novelty in being able to be in two places at once. It is said that he often argues with himself."

"Is that all that was in the dream?" I ask as my hand moves across his shoulder and down his arm.

"That is all a jumble," he says, rather disjointedly. He is definitely distracted. "Something happened to Albus and you were hunting for those soul shards with Potter and Weasley, Things were not going well for me, so I am just as pleased you woke me up before the dream went any further."

"Thank goodness, it was only a dream," I say softly. I wonder if it would be all right for me to explore a little further. "Perhaps there is something I could do to help you forget about all of that?"

"You are doing very well, so far" Severus manages to say somewhere in between little encouraging noises as I explore territory I didn't have the time to examine in any detail during the ritual. "I much prefer reality to that dream. Waking up with you in my bed is better than any dream I have ever had."

Now that is the kind of talk I like to hear.

Severus is lying on his back and I am draped across him, carefully exploring his neck with my lips and tongue. He seems to really like that.

We spend a few minutes while I learn what Severus really likes. I am compiling a mental list for future reference.

Ears, especially earlobes  
Side of neck where it meets the shoulder  
Between his shoulder blades  
Inside of the elbows  
Wrists  
Sucking any of his fingers  
Long strokes down his sides to his hips  
Pretty much anywhere on his abdomen

"Hermione," he groans, interrupting my progress towards his more nether regions. "You are looking at it like it is a science project."

"It really is an amazing piece of biological engineering," I reply, not really looking away from the object of interest. "I did a little reading. Did you know that there is sixteen times more blood in it now than when it isn't like this? The mechanics of the whole business is really astonishing when you think about it."

I run my finger down the side and it twitches. I wondered what it would take to get it to move.

Remarkable.

Oh my, that certainly provoked a response. Severus is scrambling down the bed and before I can say anything, I find myself lying underneath him and on the receiving end of a considerable amount of touching and exploring that has me breathless and moaning.

"Very well, you little witch," he grumbles. "Shall we see how you like it?"

I come to the conclusion that I like it a lot.

----------------------------------------

I also come to the conclusion that I am not entirely comfortable being nude. It was one thing when we were very busy. At that point, clothing or covers of any sort would have been entirely in the way.

At the moment, Severus is busy eating the grape I have just fed him.

I am propped up on an assortment of pillows, including some transfigured from the handkerchiefs I pilfered from the bureau. The sheet is pulled up and tucked in around my breasts. I am lying angled on my side with my legs curled up a bit so that Severus can lay comfortably with his head resting on my stomach. He doesn't seem to feel any need to keep covered up.

My curiosity about the correlation between finger length, nose size, and the size of a certain appendage has been assuaged. Without a proper study, results cannot be generalized beyond the single sample in question. In this case, there is definitely a correlation. From what I have read, I would say that Severus is generously equipped in both relaxed and excited states.

I could easily come to think of Severus as my own personal playground. He may not have the prettiest packaging and comes with an assortment of dents and dings, but he uses his assets to their maximum potential in very thoughtful ways. I wonder if I could transfigure the vibrator….? Probably not. Settling for the vibrator doesn't have all that much appeal now that I have Severus to compare it to.

Besides, I love Severus. I do not love the vibrator.

Severus is enjoying being spoiled. There is a plate just within my reach that holds an assortment of cut up cheeses and sliced fruits. He likes being hand fed even more than Crookshanks does. Feeding Crookshanks bits of tuna or shrimp was probably good training for feeding Severus. One hand holds the food, the other strokes his hair. It's a system that seems to induce purrs of contentment in both species.

Severus interrupts our interlude by shifting onto his side and reaching for his wine glass. He offers me a sip, which I accept, before taking a drink himself. Setting the glass on the table next to the bed, he returns to his previous position with his head resting against my stomach. He flips some of the coverlet across his legs and more personal parts. Since he doesn't seem to be self-conscious about being mother naked, he must be getting a little chilly.

"As much as I hate to bring up anything about the outside world into the middle of our time together, there are a few things you should know," says Severus.

Oh. He wasn't so much chilly as he wanted to talk about things that don't fit well with being naked in company.

"I told you that Poppy was attacked at St. Mungo's with the intent of kidnapping her and forcing her to reveal the identity of the Order's maiden brewer," he says.

"You told me they didn't succeed and that she was unhurt," I reply, my hand back in Severus hair, flexing my fingers in gentle petting.

"Poppy is fine, thanks to Albus' timely rescue," says Severus, reaching over to take my free hand. "However, the stress of dealing with the Death Eaters and getting Poppy out unscathed has taken its toll on Albus. He has had a minor stroke."

My fingers stop.

"Minor?"

"Poppy was there when Albus collapsed," Severus explains. "She treated him immediately and believes that he has not suffered any lasting damage. In fact, I saw him at lunch and he appeared to be normal. At least what passes for normal with Albus Dumbledore," he dissembles. "Poppy will have him rest for a few days and expects him to be able to return to his regular responsibilities."

"I'm very relieved to hear that," I reply, concerned. "It would be terrible if something happened to him. With everything going on with developing our weapon and taking the attack to the Dark Lord, we really need his experience."

"I agree," says Severus, "but there are others who are qualified in similar ways. Chester Sommersby has taken on more responsibility within the Order to give Albus a break. Sommersby has always been Albus' chief advisor on any matters of strategy. It is critical that Albus use his energy to keep up his regular appearances at the Ministry and with the Wizengamot. We do not want them to interfere with what we are doing."

"We could give him a dose of the Virgo Curato," I suggest. "He could be our test subject."

"An interesting suggestion," says Severus with a wry smile. "He would certainly have to stop trying to pair you up with Bill once he saw that we produced a potion of emerald color and experienced the effects of taking it. However, since we have a limited quantity and the damage from the stroke has already been repaired, we should save it for a more appropriate occasion."

"You're right," I reply, enjoying the feeling of Severus' index finger drawing circles on my palm. "I feel terrible that Poppy was lured into an ambush just so they could find out my identity. Maybe Albus wouldn't have had a stroke if he hadn't had to come to her rescue."

"The stroke would have happened sooner or later," Severus offers, reassuringly. "A blood vessel popped in his brain. The stress probably caused his blood pressure to rise and affected a weak spot in the vessel. Any number of events would have eventually caused his blood pressure to rise sufficiently to cause the rupture. It was only a matter of time."

"I suppose," I muse. "I still feel guilty. I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me."

Severus rolls to his side so he can look directly at me.

"No one was hurt because of you," he says emphatically. "The Dark Lord was looking for a maiden brewer for several months before you began selling your potions to St. Mungo's. Nothing you did or did not do would have made any difference. Even I did not know what he was doing. One would think that he would have questioned me first about locating a maiden brewer."

I contemplate this for a few moments. "Do you really think he has come to understand that snatching up virgins and forcing them to brew probably won't get him someone who can make a complex potion?"

"The Dark Lord is capable of understanding that force will not always get him what he wants," replies Severus. "When I reveal to him that you were the Order's maiden brewer and that you and Bill Weasley have become lovers, it may send his thinking in the direction of a different plan. Sommersby and the inner circle of the Order agree that this is our best response to the situation."

"Practically every medical condition that is treated with a maiden brewed potion has alternative treatment potions that don't have to be maiden brewed," I speculate. "When I get back to Avalon, I'll use the potions database from the library to run a comparison. Maybe I can isolate a few medical conditions that can only be treated by a maiden brewed potion."

"That could be very revealing," replies Severus, thoughtfully. "However, it may be that the Dark Lord wants the best of all possible potions for his medical condition. It could be that the most effective potion for one his health problems is a maiden brewed.potion.

"There is more that you need to know," he continues. "It appears that about the same time that the Death Eater task force was attempting to kidnap Poppy Pomfrey, someone broke into a potions storage room in the maternity ward and stole ten bottles of your fertility potions."

"Only ten bottles?" I ask. "They should still have dozens in stock."

"The rest were stored elsewhere. Only the potions scheduled to be used during the week were stored on the ward."

"This can't be a coincidence, happening at the same time as the attack on Poppy," I protest.

"We do not know," replies Severus, "It seems unlikely to be the case. Tonks and another member of the Order you have not met are conducting an investigation. The situation is convoluted and even with what I know from my time with the Dark Lord, I can shed little light on it. It seems that Healer Spence, Poppy's contact at St. Mungo's has been murdered."

"Murdered?" I am stunned.

"Not only that," he says darkly, "the terminally ill child you brewed the potions for does not exist."

A cold chill runs down my spine.

"This whole thing was part of the set-up to capture Poppy?" I ask, distressed again. "Healer Spence was responsible for the administration of the fertility potions. The same night there is a kidnapping attempt on Poppy at St. Mungo's, the fertility potions are stolen. Do they know if Spence was killed before or after the attack on Poppy?"

"He was killed a few hours before the attack with a high probability that it was Avada Kedavra." Severus squeezes my hand. "We believe that the Healer Spence Poppy delivered your potions to at St. Mungo's was a Polyjuiced imposter."

"The letter from Healer Spence said that he was asking for the brain tumor treatment potions at the request of Ellen Smith and another healer who wasn't mentioned by name." I am wracking my brain for details of the letter.

Severus is shaking his head. "We have the letter that Poppy received from Spence and it is being examined to determine if it is a forgery of some sort. The second Healer is specified in her letter, one Healer Powell who specializes in disorders of the brain at St. Mungo's. The situation is further complicated by the fact that Ellen and her husband are reputed to be in Paris and Healer Powell cannot be located. There are Order members and Aurors searching for them."

This is terrible news.

"They're missing? If Healer Spence was killed, do you think Ellen or the other Healer might have been killed, too?"

"Healer Spence's body was found at his home," replies Severus. "No other bodies have been found. Shacklebolt is in charge of the investigation and two other competent Order members are involved. We must trust that they will exhaust all of the possibilities."

It still doesn't make sense to me.

"These two things have to be connected, somehow," I speculate, speaking as the thoughts come into my head. "I cannot believe anyone would kill Healer Spence and impersonate him in order to steal ten bottles of fertility potions that are valued at five thousand Galleons."

"The street value may be several times that amount," interrupts Severus.

"Really?" I ask, astonished. "People would pay that much to guarantee their choice of a boy or girl?"

"An old family in need of a male heir? Another family that wishes to form an alliance with another family, but needs a girl child to do it? These could easily be families who do not have a medical need due to infertility, but a preference for other reasons," suggests Severus, who sounds decidedly cynical.

"It may have been a crime of opportunity," he suggests. "The Dark Lord wants Poppy Pomfrey kidnapped, hence the Polyjuiced Healer Spence. As long as he was there anyway, he opened the storage cabinet and took the fertility potions. They could be sold and put as much as twenty-five thousand galleons into the Dark Lord's coffers."

"I still think that the two are connected in some way." This is going to bug me until I can come up with an explanation.

"There is something else we need to discuss," he says.

Severus looks indecisive.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Riddle will be furious when I reveal that you were the maiden brewer and have ceased to be eligible. We may not know the details and he did not succeed, but he went to some effort to find out your identity." Severus reaches up and runs his thumb across my lower lip. "That anger must be redirected so he does not order that vengeance be taken against you."

My blood runs cold at the thought.

"What if he orders Draco to bring me in?" I ask. The thought of it is terrifying and makes me shiver.

"I think that can be prevented," says Severus. "The Dark Lord must be reminded that if he orders Draco to seize you, he would sacrifice what Draco has gained by living in the United States for the last year. If you are kidnapped in Chicago, Draco would be the prime suspect, given your known affiliation with Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore and the Malfoy family's known loyalty to the Dark Lord.

"Draco would have to leave the United States and go into hiding," he continues. "He would have to abandon his girlfriend who is the daughter of an American billionaire. Make no mistake; Riddle wants Draco to court Anita Schuler successfully. It makes her a potential hostage and The Dark Lord wants access to Daniel Schuler's money and influence. That connection could be more important to him than petty revenge."

Severus pauses and looks like he is thinking. "Lucius Malfoy will see it as obvious and will make the necessary suggestions to the Dark Lord. It may not be necessary for me to say anything about it."

I shake my head. "Does the Dark Lord think that Daniel Schuler is so naïve that he wouldn't have checked out Draco's background after their first date? We know he has safeguards in place around the apartment building. I would have to think one of the reasons they are there would be to protect Anita from Draco, if it came to that. Besides, I honestly don't think Draco is having a relationship with Anita in order to get to her father. I think he loves her."

"That may be the case now," replies Severus, pensive. "At the beginning, knowing who her father was had to make a difference. Draco was raised to be an opportunist."

"Maybe," I reply, but my brain continues to protest the whole idea. "There was genuine attraction right from the beginning."

"I will not debate it," says Severus, turning his head to look at me. "You were there to witness events as they occurred. What matters in this circumstance is how the Dark Lord perceives it. He must continue to think that Draco Malfoy is a compliant Death Eater in training. That way, The Dark Lord can leave you untouched for now. He can pursue his vengeance later. However, he is a madman and one can never be entirely certain how he will respond to anything. You must continue to have security measures around you upon your return."

"Digital Magic's security will monitor the apartment building anyway," I speculate. "The risk would be greater when I'm somewhere else."

"There are magical and non-magical tracking devices that could be secreted in your clothing," says Severus, nodding to himself. "Chicago is a busy Muggle city. One cannot Apparate or Portkey unless one is out of sight. It is important that you stay in public places where there are others around. It would make it less likely that you would be apprehended by someone the Dark Lord might send."

Severus returns to lying back with his head on my stomach.

"I shall discourage the Dark Lord from having any attempts made on you while you are in the United States," he says decisively. "It would be easier to seize you while you are in Britain and then Draco's assignment will not be put at risk."

I can see where he is going with this.

"That would mean that I can't come home." I know I sound distressed. "You can't come to the United States without the Dark Lord's permission. We'll never be able to be together."

Severus rolls over and sits up. He moves so that he is resting beside me against the pillows and pulls me into his arms.

"It means that when you come to Britain, you must not be seen in public," he says urgently. "You will stay at The Burrow or you will be at headquarters. Death Eaters cannot access you at either location."

"It could make The Burrow a target," I murmur into his shoulder.

"No more than it is already," counters Severus. "If necessary, it can be Fidelius protected. I do not believe that will be necessary. If you were still a maiden brewer, the Dark Lord might consider it worth the effort to break through the wards around The Burrow in order to acquire you. For the sake of revenge, I do not think he will take the risk. He will wait for an opportune moment to steal you when you are away from a protected location.

"I realize that this severely restricts your movements," he continues, "but it is necessary to keep you safe. We may only be talking about a few months. We have made significant progress on our weapon and will test it on the runespoor this week. Once we have confirmed that it works as we intended, we will figure out a delivery system. Our target date is the beginning of summer to find a way to use it to capture the Dark Lord. When we have him, the Death Eaters will fall into disarray. It will be safe for you then."

"Will it be safe for _both_ of us?" I ask.

"Until all of the Death Eaters are in custody," says Severus, "it will not be entirely safe. We shall simply have to be cautious."

"When enough of them are incarcerated, can we go public with our relationship?" I ask him, my excitement building.

Severus lips are only a fraction of an inch from mine.

"Nothing would please me more," he whispers as he captures me in a breath-stealing kiss.

We catch our breath for a moment and before we return to kissing, I roll over on top of Severus, abandoning the sheet and any sense of modesty. He looks a little startled and then absolutely delighted. I have his face between my hands and I say what has been on my mind ever since I read about this.

"I would very much like to Claim you, Severus Snape," I declare.

A surprised smile crosses his face and Severus laughs. This laugh is one of amusement and happiness. His arms tighten around me and in spite of all my wiggling, he rolls both of us over and is lying on top of me. I am laughing, too, as he captures me beneath him.

"I would be very pleased to be Claimed by you, Hermione Granger," he says in his most seductive tones. "I had every intention of Claiming you once the war is over so that I might court you in the middle of Diagon Alley at high noon for all to see."

Severus punctuates his declaration with a kiss I can feel all the way down to my toes.

Everything I ever fantasized about Severus' hands has come true. He touches me so carefully and with such precision. It is as if his fingertips are magically sensitized so that he knows just where to touch, how much pressure to apply, and when to move them. His fingers are long and narrow and the whole of his hand can cover a surprising amount of skin.

I think he has touched every inch of my body, exploring slowly and carefully.

His hands are extraordinarily dexterous and he has excellent fine motor coordination. What he can do with his fingers while his thumb is doing something else entirely should be written up in a journal somewhere. Except that I don't want other women to know he can do that. They'd line up and take numbers to get a turn and I have no intention of sharing.

I never considered his tongue before. I've heard Molly say that Severus Snape has a sharp tongue in his head and that he knows how to use it.

Molly has no idea.

I wouldn't describe it as sharp. I would say that the tip is a bit rough textured, but that's all the better for friction. It is remarkably flexible and when he combines it with a little sucking, I practically levitate off of the bed.

I think he'd be willing to put his tongue anywhere I want it. I'll have to make a list when I can think a little more clearly.

The things he says in that baritone of his. The Dark Angel himself couldn't be more seductive.

According to Severus, my breasts are a perfect handful. I was worried he'd think they were small.  
My hair is a glorious mass of curls in all the shades of a tiger's eye quartz. I always thought it was frizzy and a rather plain brown.  
My skin is somewhere between silk and velvet. The silver jasmine bath salts – I've got to make more of those.  
My toes are perfectly sized for nibbling. Never knew there was a set of nerves that went directly from my big toe and could sensitize an entirely different part of my body. I must look into reflexology.  
My eyes are perfectly topaz. Until now, I thought they were brown.  
My lips taste of honeyed ambrosia. I have no idea what that would taste like, but it sounds delicious.  
The hex scar Dolohov gave me at the Ministry of Magic is a simply a path to be traced by his tongue. Then, it is an arrow pointing the way to other places that need his close personal attention.

I can't think anymore. I can only feel, while I touch him everywhere I can. I wish I could climb into his skin. I want to be so close. I can't get close enough.

I can feel it again, that pushing sensation. It is a novel feeling, this fullness that was never there before. Moving. His skin against mine, the friction against my breasts and thighs. There is a rhythm to this moving. I'm trying to move in rhythm with Severus. It makes it even better.

"Hermione," he moans.

I open my eyes and he is gazing at me with eyes glazed with passion. His hair is like a curtain around our faces and his breath is hot against my cheek. My hands move across his back and clutch his shoulders, urging him on. My thoughts are racing and a compelling pressure is building within me.

I want this. I want you. Own me, possess me, everything you want. I need to be yours. Can you see it in my eyes and read it in my mind? It is all about you and this and feeling so much as it builds, the intensity overwhelming and taking all of my senses willingly over a cliff.

------------------

Do I really have to come back to earth after that? Severus is collapsed on top of me. We could best be described as a sweaty heap. Strands of his hair are draped across my face.

I'm so content. I just want to hold him and breathe.

He pushes up on one elbow and looks down at me. I tuck his hair behind his ear and he brushes mine back from my forehead. Our lips touch, exploring. It is gentle and affectionate.

Severus reaches down and draws the sheet up over both of us. I pull the pillows over. He puts his arm around me as I lay my head on his shoulder.

Afterglow is a very good thing. I could get used to this.

I close my eyes and listen to Severus breathe.

-----------------------------------

The sun will be up, soon. I can hear a bird singing in the tree outside of the window. The singing always starts just before dawn.

Severus is awake, too. We're both reluctant to get out of bed. It might be a long time before we can share one again.

He leans over and kisses my shoulder. I reach up and stroke the side of his face.

One more kiss and Severus rises. He pulls on a dressing gown and opens the door. He crosses the hallway to the bathroom.

The bed feels so empty.

I climb out of the bed and retrieve my nightgown from the place on the floor where we dropped it hours ago. Slipping it over my head, I retrieve my wand from the place next to the gold cauldron on the bureau.

I leave the sheets on the bed, but cast cleansing and freshening spells on them and another to remove the crushed remains of the rose petals. I cast a further freshening spell on the room.

Severus and I may have been shagging all night, but I do not intend to leave the room smelling like sex.

I hear the sound of the shower in the bathroom. At some future time, we will share a shower. And a bath. And a table. And anywhere else we please.

But unfortunately, not today. I have to get ready to leave.

--------------------------------------

We have champagne to go with the omelets Severus has made. He says that Minerva sent it. That was so thoughtful of her. This must be what a honeymoon is like during the last hours before you have to go back to what passes for normal life.

"I would rather not go back, either," says Severus, looking at me with those probing dark eyes of his.

"Mind reader," I accuse, only half teasing.

"No," he replies, putting down his fork and taking my hand. "It does not take a mind reader to know this."

"I just don't know when I'll see you again." My eyes hurt and my chest feels tight.

"A few weeks, perhaps," he assures me. "At the longest, until the end of your college term. Then you will come home and we will see each other here at headquarters." Severus' eyes search mine. "Perhaps we'll find a way to send the occupants of this house off on an errand somewhere." He gives me a confident smile.

I smile back and nod. I'll buy into whatever kind of delusional thinking will allow me to believe we will be together soon.

"We have our journals. We will schedule times when we can converse rather than just leaving notes," he says.

I nod again, still not trusting myself to speak.

I don't want to be brave about this. I want us to run away from all of it and just be together. We only had one night. The honeymoon shouldn't be over, yet.

"I have a favor to ask of you," says Severus.

"Anything."

"When we win and are ready to pursue Claiming, I would like to be the one to petition," he says, holding a finger to my lips to stop me from protesting. "I realize that you are a modern woman with modern notions – "

"They are more than just notions," I interrupt anyway.

"There are sound strategic reasons behind allowing me to make the petition," continues Severus. "First, it will make it very clear to any discerning mind that I disagree with the whole concept of blood purity. As a descendent of a wizarding family considered to be Pureblood and a former Death Eater, it will help me to place distance between myself and Death Eater beliefs. Second, there is no precedent for a lady to make the petition. It has to be registered with the Ministry and I wish to give them no grounds for rejecting it. Everything can be worded to suggest that the Claiming is mutual and based on a pre-existing relationship that needs further exploration before making a permanent commitment.

Permanent commitment.

Severus Snape used the term _permanent commitment_!

We are going to explore the possibility of a permanent commitment.

What about his request to be the petitioner for the Claiming?

I guess it makes a lot of sense to do this in a way that puts distance between him and that nonsense Voldemort has been spouting. We're doing what I want, anyway. He might take some harassment from others about his lady friend doing the petitioning. Severus has had a difficult enough time as it is without having to be socially embarrassed.

My mind is made up. We both had the same idea.

I lift up my glass of champagne.

"I'm perfectly okay with you filing the petition," I tell him in what I really hope is a sexy voice. "The important thing is that we will be officially and socially recognized as a couple in a relationship. It doesn't matter who does the paperwork."

Severus offers a broad smile, the kind he rarely allows because of his crooked teeth. I wonder if I could talk Severus into accepting magical dental work as a wedding present? Maybe he wouldn't be so reluctant to smile if his teeth looked better. Lifting his champagne flute, he touches the rim against mine in a toast.

"To Claiming," he declares, with a tip of his head.

"And the day when I can take your arm in public," I reply with a nod.

We both enjoy the champagne.

-----------------------------------

Once again, Bill looks like Bill.

"I wrote down all of the points I deducted last night and who I deducted them from," he explains, handing Severus a parchment. "Minerva is going to kill me. She'll have to get snarky with you in public since it appeared you took all those points."

Severus is perusing the sheet.

"You gave Slytherin ten points and deducted one hundred eighty-eight from Gryffindor?" That eyebrow is raised in curiosity.

"It couldn't be helped," sighs Bill. "I caught every one of those Gryffindors where they didn't belong and in some cases, red-handed." He looks at me and shakes his head regretfully. "Their hands were literally in the wrong place. I was pleased to see that Gryffindors are still making out in the same places around the castle where I made out. It made me feel positively sentimental as I kept taking points."

"What were the ten points to Slytherin for?" asks Severus.

"Sylvia Bassett offered Eamon O'Malley a handkerchief after he sneezed," replies Bill, earnestly. "That twenty points I deducted from Gryffindor was when O'Malley sneezed on me."

"Good call," I remark, chuckling. It is so much easier not to care about the House point system now that I am finished with Hogwarts.

"I probably would have deducted twenty-five points and given O'Malley a detention for soiling my robes," says Severus, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll remember that for next time," says Bill, with a Cheshire cat inspired grin.

Is Bill offering to Polyjuice himself again so that Severus and I can be together at some future time? I hope so.

"Are we ready to return to Hogwarts?" asks Severus.

"Bill and I are ready to do our role play," I reply.

Bill picks up my weekender bag and moves towards the kitchen door.

"I'll wait outside," he says, his hand on the doorknob. With a nod, he leaves Severus and me alone.

My eyes are burning and my chest aches. In an instant, Severus' arms are around me and my head is against his shoulder. I am holding him as tightly as I can. I don't want to let him go.

I feel his hand in my hair and I pull back to look into his eyes.

"This separation is only temporary," he says softly.

There is a huge lump in my throat and I'm not sure if I can speak around it.

"I'm holding you to that as a promise," I choke out in a whisper.

Our kiss is branded onto my soul and into my memory. We can't keep postponing the inevitable and pull apart. He tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and we walk into the back yard.

Bill spells the wards back into place as the door closes behind us.

Severus and I walk to the place by the bushes where the anti-Apparition wards end. He takes my hand from his arm and brushes the knuckles with his lips before he lets it go. I can feel Bill come up behind me and place his hands comfortingly on my shoulders.

I am certain Severus can see all of the love I feel for him in my eyes. His dark eyes are intent on my face as if he is trying to capture my image one more time.

"I will see you both in the Headmaster's office," he says.

Severus disappears with a soft pop.

Bill moves beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder. I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes.

We wait for ten minutes. We need for Severus to have enough time to be in Dumbledore's office before we arrive.

"Ready?" he asks, squeezing my shoulder.

My emotions are under sufficient control. I just hope they can stay that way.

"I'm ready," I reply.

Bill releases me and we Apparate away to the gates of Hogwarts.

-----------------------------

Author's notes

In a famous episode of the American television soap opera _Dallas_, the writers brought back a character who had been killed off more than a year before by having his wife wake up and find him in the shower. She had dreamed the entire 1985-86 season.

I decided that this was as good a means as any to dispose of events in _The Half Blood Prince_ and _The Deathly Hallows_. The contents of the two books were actually a bit of improperly digested horseradish from Severus' sandwiches at lunch.

Evil cackle.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Pstibbons, o0morgana0o, T wrecks, KarlaMarie, Ami Metallium, Lone Butterfly, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Mia Madwyn, Jade2099, CrystalClear0, LilyGinny27, KK Duke, Oscarxena, Not so Chicken Little, Lyndie578, Heidi191976, Exploding Pool, Severessa, MollysSister, Millenia2, Darque Hart, Padslet, Lina, Remus r us, Kate, SpSt, Pyro313, Sunsethill, La009, Elandria, Marble Meadow, Yapyap, Lady Slone, Mennie, F75, Nutters4Potter, Droxy, Zirateb, Odogoddess, Squeaker19450, Smiles28, Shiverrus, Lipasnape, Latinachikita, Giggleginny, Nirtak.Enaile, Excessivelyperky, Andi-Scribbles, Belas, Amsev, Notwritten, Maddie50, Duj, SlvrNight, Danielle, Arime Setta, Squiggles.Candi, Artic Dragon, Demonoid, Lady Javert, Ebbe04, Koliber, Trulyamused, Always-Severus, Rinny08, Quiet-mg, Princessfiona, Imbyrri, Phantomphan6230, o.T., KimJo, Sweety-Pie5445, Evil-Mastermind666, Deceptive Fates, LimeJuiceTub, Ghost Owl, Born-of-Elven-Blood, Erytha, Teri, Kirien, Bill, and Pickles 87.


	81. Chapter 81

I really don't own this.

Many thanks to Julia and a few mysterious friends for their input into this story. Special thanks to Katyes, who has translated 62 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German.

----------------------------  
May 5th, 1999  
Severus

I never imagined that it would hurt so much to walk away from Hermione as it did when I left headquarters this morning. I could see how hard she was struggling to contain her own emotions, so I put on my professorial mask and used all of my internal disciplines to maintain my own. To be strong for her, so she could hold it together.

Unless she fell apart after I left her with Bill, she was maintaining an adequate amount of outward calm at our imminent departure.

In the last twenty-four hours, I have continually told myself that one night is enough. I have lived without a woman's love and touch for years at a time. Surely one night would not undo all of the barriers and discipline I have maintained. The façade of the cold and bitter man who needs nothing and no one has served me well for most of my life.

Were that actually true, my heart would not ache and my throat would not feel so tight as they do at this moment.

The gift of one night of love, freely expressed, and it is like the tiny crack in the dam finally giving way to the pressure of the water accumulated behind it. Now, I find myself overwhelmed with emotions I had thought were safely put away.

Although Albus and Chester have said before that my skills as an Occlumens are superior to Riddle's skills as a Legilimens, I cannot trust them to hide who I have been with and what I have done this last night. My feelings for Hermione will be all too clear from these images. This evening will be spent in reinforcing walls and creating a new safe place in my mind to hide these memories and all traces of them.

I will not put them in a Pensieve unless I have absolutely no alternative. They are too….

What words can I use to describe my emotions as we went through the ritual and made love last night? I do not believe I have words suitable. I only know that I have never felt more alive at any other time in my life. I love her and my love has doubled and tripled for being with her.

She is so generous with her love. I have never experienced feeling so cared for by another human being. She touched me freely. By Merlin and Nimue, she even _fed_ me. There was such tenderness in her touch and attentiveness in her manner. It was as if I were the center of her universe. I hope that I was able to make her understand that she has become the center of mine.

Last night was not supposed to end. Surely when two people feel as we do, it is not meant that there should only be one night. We need many days and many nights to explore this, to hold it, and allow it to grow. To understand each other and build a life together.

I cannot have this, now. If I survive, Hermione and I can have this after the war, but not now.

Fortunately, my body knows the way down the hallways and passages of Hogwarts without my mind being present. I stand before the entrance to the revolving staircase to Albus' office and cannot remember how I got here. That inattention to my surroundings must stop immediately. A daydreaming spy is one who will be dead in short order.

"Marshmallow peanuts," I recite with a sigh. Why couldn't the passwords be Shakespearean characters, names of cities in Belgium, or even names of professional Quidditch teams? Anything, but names of confectionary. It lacks dignity.

I reframe my thoughts, square my shoulders, and become Severus Snape, Death Eater spy.

The revolving staircase deposits me at the entrance to the Headmaster's office. I can see that the expected cast of characters is already here. Albus is at his desk and Poppy is sitting in one of the chairs in front of it. Remus and Minerva are standing at the table with the tea set with Remus playing mother. Mad-Eye Moody is sitting before the fireplace with his wooden leg propped up on a footstool.

All of them are known to the Dark Lord to be Order members. Nothing will be revealed by their presence that he does not already know. They are a carefully selected audience for our role-play. Minerva has briefed Albus and Poppy on the truth of last night. Only Mad Eye will believe that Bill and Hermione spent the night together.

"Would you care for some tea?" offers Remus. He and Minerva are looking at me in a deceptively casual manner.

Keeping in the character the Dark Lord expects, I simply sneer in response. As far as the Dark Lord is concerned, I consider Lupin to be a subhuman monster, unworthy of even a polite response to a courteous offer.

Knowing this, Remus turns away. Minerva takes the teapot, pours a cup and hands it to me. She gives me a disapproving look.

"Thank you, Minerva," I say in an intimate tone to the woman the Dark Lord believes I am attempting to seduce.

We all take seats and turn our attention to Albus. He has good color and gives no appearance of the stroke he had three days ago. The Dark Lord will see him through my memories and believe him to be in perfect health for a man over 150 years old.

In a strong voice, Albus begins the meeting. We have already determined that the Dark Lord has known Ellen and Mark Smith are members of the Order since the first war. Therefore, they will be the subject of discussion before Hermione arrives. Nothing will be discussed that he does not already know from his own sources within MLE, especially if it turns out that Ellen has changed her loyalties.

"I have news from our sources within Magical Law Enforcement," Albus announces. "Yesterday, we learned that Healer Spence was murdered and that the person Poppy met with was an imposter Polyjuiced to look like Spence. Today, we have confirmation that Ellen and Mark Smith were last seen in Paris by their daughter.

"Kendra Smith has been questioned by MLE and reported that they were there to celebrate her successful completion of her apprenticeship, licensing examinations, and acceptance into the Guild of Wizarding Solicitors. She claims to have had dinner with them on Saturday evening and that they then parted company so she could return to London to prepare to start her new job on Monday. Ellen and Mark stayed overnight at a hotel in Paris and departed Sunday morning by Portkey for parts unknown. No one has seen them since."

"The daughter was expecting them to return to their home on Sunday evening," adds Moody, clearing his voice. "We've been watching their house in London and there is no sign of them. According to St. Mungo's, Ellen isn't expected back at work until tomorrow morning."

"I am very concerned about Ellen and Mark," says Albus, his voice tight. "The investigators looking into this matter have tracked down Healer Powell, the other Healer referred to in Spence's letter to Poppy. Powell's body was found last night."

This is an unexpected turn of events. Apparently Moody and Lupin already know this, because they are nodding in agreement. Minerva and Poppy look startled and dismayed.

"Powell was found behind some rubbish bins in back of a fish and chip shop in a bad neighborhood in Muggle London," interrupts Moody. "A squib who works for the Metropolitan Police recognized the style of clothing and contacted our people to take a look at the body. A few Obliviates later and we had custody of the body. From what I saw, I would guess he'd been dead about six hours. Looked to me like he was Crucioed and sliced up until he bled to death. The body was dumped in Muggle London, probably to delay identification. He didn't die where they found him. There wasn't enough blood there."

"Are you suggesting that the reason Ellen and Mark have not been found is because they may be dead, too?" asks Minerva, her hand going to her throat in alarm.

"We should be prepared for that possibility," grunts Moody. "Another possibility is that the two of them are in on what happened to Spence and Powell and are attempting to elude us."

"Impossible," declares Minerva, offended.

It is time for me to enter this discussion.

"This is alarming information. However, you still have not explained how all of this is connected to the attempt to kidnap Poppy," I state dispassionately. "I thought from what you said last night that it was intended to lure Albus in for a rescue and capture or kill both of you."

"I have withheld certain information from you so that Riddle could not pull it out of your head," announces Albus.

I allow myself to look alarmed and straighten up in my chair. I look at Albus suspiciously.

"What information?" I ask with irritated disdain.

"Since last autumn, the Order has had the services of a maiden brewer," replies Albus, steadily.

"I was ambushed by Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley and poisoned with a silver infusion potion," adds Lupin. "I should have died, because the only treatment that works is a potion that must be partially maiden brewed."

I turn and glare at Albus.

"You withheld this information from me," I hiss.

"By absolute necessity," says Albus, authoritatively. Poppy stands up and walks behind Albus, putting her hand on his shoulder. She is the very image of feminine support. Albus reaches up and pats her hand.

"Fortunately," he continues, "I was able to recruit a qualified brewer to do the other half of the potion." Albus nods at the door leading to the revolving staircase. It swings open.

Bill walks in first, guiding Hermione in. Minerva crosses the room and takes Hermione's hand, leading her to one of the chairs by the fireplace. Bill follows and takes his place, standing protectively behind her chair. I stare openly and Hermione drops her head and looks at her hands in her lap.

"Miss Granger has done a valuable service for the Order," declares Albus. "She has brewed a variety of healing potions for our use. In addition, she has prepared maiden brewed fertility potions that we were able to sell to St. Mungo's. This has helped to fund the activities of the Order and greatly improved our financial standing. She allowed malicious rumors to be spread about her and risked her reputation in order to create false impressions about her virtue. This deflected any suspicion from her role as our maiden brewer.

"I deliberately misled you, Severus," says Albus with finality. "I did not want you know that we had a maiden brewer, nor did I want you to know her identity."

Moody stands, his hostility apparent in his voice and posture.

"I have never understood why Albus Dumbledore decided to trust you at all, Snape," he snarls.

"Stop it, Moody," orders Albus.

Moody halts and glares at me in barely restrained anger. He turns and points his finger at Albus.

"Why in all the hells are you trusting that snake fucker with this information now?" he spits.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" shouts Minerva at Moody, her face flushed with fury. She storms across the room and takes my arm protectively. "Severus has done nothing to merit this kind of treatment from you."

Albus rises. In his elegant green velvet robes, he looks every bit the powerful sorcerer he is. He comes around the desk and stands nose-to-nose with Moody.

"I am telling him now because the situation has changed and he needs to know," says Albus his voice soft and cold, brooking no argument.

Moody backs up, standing down in the face of Albus' authority. He snorts and shakes his head in dismay. Albus continues to stand in the middle of the room and turns to me.

"You need to know that all indications are that the reason the Death Eaters came after Poppy was because she has served as the intermediary between Healer Spence at St. Mungo's and Miss Granger," he says, his voice and expression exuding calm across the room. "It is our belief that the trap was set to force Poppy to reveal the name of the maiden brewer."

Albus steps closer to Minerva and me. Minerva clutches my arm.

"There is a reason the Dark Lord wants to acquire a maiden brewer," says Albus, softly. "You are our spy within among the Death Eaters. I want you to find out why the Dark Lord is looking for one."

I allow a slow simmer of rage to come into my voice.

"You know full well that the Dark Lord is not going to confide that information to me," I hiss. "I have already spent one day in his company that resulted in my memories being Obliviated. Do you honestly think he will allow me to know such a thing and bring the memory back to you?

"Not that it truly makes any difference," I continue in my icy rant. "Perhaps that is the reason I have no memories of what I did that day. Maybe I am somehow involved in all of this and do not remember how." I wave my arm to include Hermione. "You have seen fit to deny me information that the Dark Lord certainly wanted to have and may have probed me to find, landing me in the hospital wing in dire condition." Borrowing from Moody's phrasing, "If you cannot trust me to use information carefully, how in all the hells do you expect me to spy for YOU? You do not give me the information necessary to insinuate myself into the Dark Lord's good graces by giving him at least part of what he wants and somehow expect me to bring back information you want."

Bill interrupts.

"We are not going to give him what he wants," says Bill. He reaches down and takes Hermione's hand. He is hovering protectively over her, for which I am grateful. Hermione is clearly distressed by the arguing and I fear she will be unable to maintain her role. She turns her head away and looks up at Bill. I can see that he is helping her to steady herself.

"Hermione should no longer be a topic of discussion," says Bill, looking down at her with open affection. "I am pleased to report to all of you that Hermione and I are very serious about our relationship. She is no longer eligible to be a maiden brewer. It is our hope that we will be free to make an announcement sometime this summer."

Albus turns and looks down at Hermione.

"Miss Granger," he says gently. "I thank you for your services to the Order and I look forward to this summer when I may congratulate you on your betrothal to one of my finest staff."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," says Hermione, her voice unsteady.

"We all feel that way, my dear" says Minerva, approvingly.

"Absolutely," announces Remus, clapping Bill on the shoulder.

"Phft," says Moody with a snort. His false eye is doing figure eights in its socket.

I stand silent and sneer.

"If – If we are done," says Hermione, clearly uncomfortable, "I need to leave. I have classes today that I am going to miss if I don't get back soon."

"By all means," says Albus, offering her a hand to rise. Hermione accepts and gets to her feet. Bill puts his arm around her shoulder, reassuringly.

"I'm going to walk Hermione to the gates," says Bill. "There is just enough time for that and then I need to get to my first class."

We look at the clock and the hands are only a few minutes away from _Time to Teach_. It is time to finish our play acting. Minerva releases my arm and walks over to Hermione and gives her a quick hug. She walks with Hermione and Bill as they leave down the revolving staircase.

I must get to my journal as soon as I can. I must know that she is all right and that she understands what part of all of this is just an act.

"So," says Moody, his voice gruff and angry, "are you going to tell your _Master_ about Hermione Granger?"

"Of course," I reply, scathingly. "Was that not the whole point of the happy couple's timely entrance into this meeting?"

"Try not to get her killed," he retorts.

"Knock it off, Moody," orders Lupin, putting his hand on Moody's shoulder. "Snape's been doing this long enough that he'll know how to use this information. The Dark Lord has no reason to come after Granger if she can't brew what he wants."

Moody shrugs off his hand. "You hope."

I allow myself to sound calm, collected, and decidedly superior to the lot of them.

"If the Dark Lord is looking for a maiden brewer," I state coolly, "he is not going to find one in Hemione Granger. That much is apparent. I appreciate the faith all of you have displayed in my ability to deal with the Dark Lord. I sincerely hope that delivering this news to him does not result in my punishment."

"If it does, it'll be for things you haven't been caught for, yet," says Moody, sneering at me with his distorted features.

I start to raise my wand and feel Albus hand as he grasps my wrist to restrain me. I look at him and he gives me a warning look.

"I think I'd better get Moody out of here," says Remus, pointing to the fireplace. Moody gives me a last nasty look and Floos out. Remus follows him.

"If I might be excused, Headmaster?" I ask in my best _above it all_ tone of voice.

"Of course, Severus," replies Albus, wearily as Poppy moves to his side.

I make my exit out the door and to the revolving staircase. Completing the scene for the Dark Lord's benefit, I turn around and come back into Albus' office. He is sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace and Poppy is taking readings.

"I think that went well," says Albus.

"I agree," I reply, watching.

Poppy finishes moving her wand and an assortment of numbers and sigils appear in the air above Albus' head.

"Your blood pressure is elevated," she announces. "Back to bed with you."

"A welcome suggestion," he replies, tiredly. He looks up at me. "Do you think you have what you need?"

"Yes," I reply. "Everyone played their parts well. The Dark Lord should be convinced by this memory. Not only is Hermione Granger the maiden brewer he was seeking, but the inner circle of the Order is in considerable discord and taking sides about me and events that have recently taken place. I will have to notify the Dark Lord through Pettigrew that I need an audience."

"I detest sending you to him under these circumstances," sighs Albus.

"I detest going to him under any circumstances," I reply. "It cannot be helped. I will do my best to manipulate this situation to see if I can get him to stop looking for a maiden brewer."

"Then there is nothing more to do at the moment," says Albus, yawning. "I do believe I shall go take a nap."

Poppy stands back and lets Albus rise. I watch as she helps him to make his way up the stairs to his private rooms.

I suppose I must go and teach the Third Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws how to make Ear Wax Removal Potion.

I turn and head for the dungeons. Nose to the grindstone and all that.

------------------------------

_Dear Hermione,_

_I have made my obligatory appearance at lunch in the Great Hall and am seizing this opportunity to write you before afternoon classes begin. _

_By all appearances, today is a normal day and yesterday has been accepted as one, too. Bill's performance as Professor Snape must have been successful, if it is to be judged by the number of Gryffindors who are grousing and muttering about points taken last night. Our secret appears to be safe, unknown to all other than a particular list of inner circle members of the Order who know what we were about._

_This morning's role play went extraordinarily well, in my opinion. You played your role to perfection – right down to the distress you displayed at the confrontation between Moody and myself._

_I realise your distress was a very real thing. You were already upset this morning that it was necessary for us to part and return to our public roles. Once again, the war has required us to set aside our personal feelings and lives, because the first priority must always be the defeat of the Dark Lord. It continually seems that nothing can ever happen between us the way it would in the course of a normal life. _

_In my mind's eye, I can envision a very different courtship between us under very different circumstances. There is a very comfortable sofa in my sitting room. We would be free to sit in front of the fireplace with our wine and conversation. I would enjoy a long stroll with you around the grounds of Hogwarts, followed by summoning an elf with a picnic basket and enjoying our repast on a rug in the sunshine. _

_Perhaps we could spend an evening at a place I know in the Forbidden Forest where we can harvest night blooming aspiria? The scent is exquisite in the spring. _

_One day, I wish to walk with you through Flourish and Botts and discuss which books we will purchase. Perhaps we will argue over the merits of one Potions book over another. We would finish by dining at one of the fine restaurants on Diagon Alley, talking over our wine until one of the wait-elves points out that the establishment is ready to close. _

_In the morning, I would experience that moment of contentment when I awake and find you lying beside me in my bed. Your glorious mass of hair would be spread across our pillows and your soft breathing would be the only sound I heard._

_Alas, we must continually give up what we want and desire in the face of the larger picture. We postpone our time together to fight a war, instead._

_For now, I ask you to play your role. Allow all of those others to believe that you are Bill Weasley's paramour. You and I know the truth. When I meet with the Dark Lord, I intend to manipulate his responses to the situation in the hope that this will discourage him from seeking you any further. It may mean even more of a separation for us until this war is resolved. Your safety is paramount._

_I do love you so very much. I long for the day when we may walk together in sunlight for all to see and the declaration of our intentions worn as the Claiming bracelets on our arms._

_For now, I hope you will be comforted by the knowledge that you hold my heart. For the first time in many, many years, I have the hope of a future to be shared with a woman who holds me in a similar regard. For the sake of this future, I am willing to sacrifice the present._

_All my love,  
__Severus_

-----------------------------------

I am going to ask Albus to convince the Board of Governors that First Years should not be instructed in the subtle science and exact art that is Potions.

Never mind asking. I shall demand it.

Why Merriweather Fulton believed that throwing of a wad of used chewing gum into Whittaker Doolittle's cauldron of chewing gum remover was a reasonable way to test the effectiveness of the potion escapes me at this moment.

In short order, the gum was forcefully expelled from the potion. When it encountered the warm moist air of the dungeon and the leftover airborne particles of burned purple wysthenia leaves from the morning's explosion during the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class, the gum softened, expanded exponentially, and blew itself into a bubble the size of a bloated hippogriff before it exploded.

Chewing gum rained down all over me, the students, and the classroom.

If I were not exhausted from having no more than six hours of sleep in a very busy forty eight hours, I would have the little cretin on his hands and knees scraping the gum off the stone floor with his fingernails.

Instead, I used magic to clean up the whole lot, including myself.

At least he will be serving time with Mr. Filch this evening. I do not even care if Argus brings out the manacles that he claims he has. String the little bastard up by his toenails with paperclips, for all I care. Make him mop the floor with his tongue.

I keep reminding myself that I am not allowed to wire his jaw shut.

I need sleep rather badly. Instead, I am going to do some mind work and reorder my memories to keep the Dark Lord out of the most critical ones of Hermione and me together. He has become unpredictable and I have no idea when he will summon me. I dare not wait to do this.

To start, I am sitting in my most comfortable chair in front of the fireplace. I am doing the deep breathing exercises to begin the process of relaxation when a knock at the door intrudes on my solitude.

I heave myself out of my chair with a grunt.

It had better not be one of the little wretches or I am going to review _Aeltaewelice Yfil Lacnung_ for a list of potions requiring human ingredients and sharpen my Kroehler knives.

I open the door and find Minerva on the other side. At least this is one interruption I do not mind overmuch. As soon as the door is closed, I find myself caught up in a hug and receive a resounding kiss on the cheek.

I am most certainly losing my carefully honed reflexes if even someone who is a good friend managed to sneak up on me this way. Oh, very well. Sometimes there is no reasonable alternative except surrender. I hug Minerva back.

She immediately releases me and makes herself at home in front of the fireplace. I take the other seat.

"You don't look any the worse for wear," remarks Minerva with a mischievous smile.

I believe I am blushing.

"I seem to be relatively unscathed," I reply.

"You do look a little tired," she says, tilting her head as she examines my face.

Of course, I am tired. I have not had sex in eighteen months and then had it three times last night. What do you think? I am hardly eighteen years old anymore. Not that I ever had sex three times in one night when I was eighteen. At that age, I might have wanked three times in one night.

Naturally, I am not going to say any such thing.

"Short rations of sleep combined with being very busy." I groan, realizing I have revealed more than I had intended.

"I should certainly hope so," laughs Minerva. She reaches over and pats my hand. "I have not come down here to harass you. We simply have had no time to talk since you returned after being Obliviated by the Dark Lord.

"Events have happened at a rapid pace," I reply. "We seem to rush from one crisis to the next."

We sit in silence for a moment, contemplating.

"Hermione seemed upset this morning when we were putting on our show," she remarks. "Have you heard from her, yet?"

"I believe that seeing all of us arguing, combined with the lack of privacy about her personal life upset her," I reply, concerned. "I have written to her through our paired journals. It is afternoon in Chicago, so she will still be in class. Given that I intend to go to bed early, I do not anticipate reading her response until tomorrow morning."

"Please reassure her that the whole scene truly was an act," says Minerva, her brow wrinkled with concern. "Except for Moody, of course. He has a lot of old hostility that comes to the surface now and then."

"He has never truly trusted me," I sneer, "nor is that likely to change."

"I've never understood why Albus has chosen to trust him and give him such a level of responsibility within the Order," says Minerva, shaking her head in disgust. "Barty Crouch, Junior's impersonation of him worked so well because the two are not nearly as different as we might like to think. I am still appalled by the thought of how easily Moody can slip into using Unforgiveables."

"Under Crouch, Senior, the Aurors became Death Eaters with a badge," I reply. "Moody has never truly let go of that."

"Enough unpleasantness. We cannot resolve this issue tonight and I do not mean to intrude on you," says Minerva. "I know you well enough to understand that you must feel like you have been riding a veritable bucking broom of emotions."

I nod.

"To the degree where I must do some mind work tonight in order to keep them out of sight of the Dark Lord should he decide to go hunting for them," I explain.

"In that case," says Minerva, "I shall take my leave. Do not concern yourself with patrol tonight. I will take care of it, since Nearly Headless Nick is taking my turn tonight."

Minerva rises to depart and I put out my hand to stop her.

"Wait a moment," I request. She looks rather puzzled, but waits as I raise the lid on a wooden box sitting on the table at my side. I choose a vial and cross over to her.

I am standing over Minerva, gazing down at her, as I raise my hand and place the vial in hers. She lifts it and examines it, a question in her eyes.

"The Virgo Curato," I explain. "It works best when given into the hand of the recipient by one of the participants."

My words sink in and Minerva's eyes grow wide and astonished. She lifts the vial and examines the deep emerald color.

"The pure emerald of genuine love," she murmurs, holding it up to the light. She looks back up at me. "I must say that I am impressed. I do not believe I have ever known anyone who managed the ritual, though I know a few who may have tried."

"You are the first person to whom I have given any of the potion," I tell her, gently.

Minerva takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

"I cannot tell you how much this means to me," she says, closing her hand around the vial. "What you did not say is that the potion, which is created through love, works best when given with love."

Minerva's eyes are warm and brimming with tears. I put my arms around her and pull her to me. She rests her head against my shoulder and sniffs a few times. After a long moment, she pulls away and draws a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at her eyes.

"Well," she says with a bit of a huff. "I would think that when you start giving away vials of the most powerful healing potion ever created, that should turn a few heads."

"It would if I were going to give away many of them," I reply, feeling very fond of Minerva at this moment. "Hermione will be giving most of them, since she can do so without implicating me in their creation."

"It will make a fine weapon against damage caused by the Dark Lord," announces Minerva. "This can heal almost any magical injury sustained by anyone who is held in affection by you or Hermione."

"Which puts limits on its use," I explain. "There is a short list of people for whom I feel genuine affection, but a much longer list for Hermione. We will have enough to go around, but for only a select few."

"Somehow, that seems appropriate," says Minerva. I know I am about to be teased by the look in her eyes. "You do realize that you are the only person I know who can claim to be a veritable Salazar Slytherin in the bedroom?"

I pull myself a little taller and preen just a bit. There is no point in false modesty when the people who are most important in my life will soon know that I have succeeded where almost every other man would fail. However, I prefer not to be viewed as boasting. That is too… Gryffindor.

"It is simply a representation of the deep regard I hold for Hermione," I reply, deciding to be modest after all. I can afford to be.

"I am very happy for the two of you," says Minerva, decidedly. "It certainly bodes well for your future. If you are to have the kind of future you deserve, I should leave so that you may adjust your memory rooms."

At that moment, I am startled to see a silver phoenix Patronus pass through the wall. Minerva jumps as we hear Albus' voice saying, "Severus, please report to my office immediately. Ellen and Mark Smith have been found."

Minerva and I exchange alarmed glances as the phoenix dissipates. Seizing a scant handful of floo powder from the silver box on the mantle, Minerva precedes me through the fireplace to Albus' office.

-------------------------------------------  
Author's notes

Old English translations:  
Aeltaewelice: completely  
Yfil: evil  
Lacnung: medicament or remedy

-----------------

October is my busiest month of the year. Paranormal investigators get very popular around Halloween and I do a lot of presentations at local colleges and for civic groups. If I don't get back to all of the reviewers, that is why.

-----------------

In the reviews for Chapter 80, I received more comments about turning _The Deathly Hallows_ into a bad dream than anything else I've written into the story. Apparently, many readers feel that _The Deathly Hallows_ is best explained as indigestion brought on by too much horseradish.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Latinachikita (whom I accidentally forgot last month and who faithfully reviews every chapter), Marble Meadow, Squiggles.Candi, Odogoddess, Droxy, Klschmidt, T wrecks, Katyes, Werforpsu, Lone Butterfly, Oscarxena, KarenDetroit, Squeaker19450, Phoenix's Feather, Excessivelyperky, Trulyamused, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Notplainjane, Keske, Pyro313, Darque Hart, Erytha, Lyndie578, Sunsethill, MollysSister, Rinny08, Millenia2, Lipasnape, Ebbe04, Mennie, Kimjo, Theoretica, Yapyap, Evil-Mastermind 666, Raindrops on Roses, Lady Slone, Kirien, NervousAboutAngels, Giggleginny, Jocemum, Nutters4Potter, Maddie50, Snape's Witch, Lilsnape, Notwritten, Princessfiona, Duj, Arime Setta, Pstibbons, ExplodingPool, Deceptive Fates, Andi-Scribbles, LimeJuiceTub, Nirtak.Enaile, Koliber, Always-Severus, T, Keitaya, Lilyginny27, Ohhdarkstonedone11, Sweety-Pie5445, Jade2099, Laurenke1, LadyJavert, Lauren, Crimchick227, Not so Chicken Little, Kala, and Yasmin.


	82. Chapter 82

I don't own it and I'm certainly not making any money from it.

Many thanks to Julia for pointing out that it is a hall of residence and not a house of residence – among other things.

Another thank you to Jocemum for suggesting a different way to organize the chapter and make it more readable.

Due to an out-of-town trip and no Internet access, this is up a day early.

-------------------------  
May 5th, 1999  
Early evening  
Hermione

The bus is crowded this afternoon with people traveling home from work. I hold on tighter to the handlebar above my head as the standers on the route number 56 bus sway as it turns from Madison onto Jefferson Street.

Thank heaven for bottomless backpacks. How in the world do people do this holding onto purses, briefcases and grocery bags? I'm learning a whole new set of survival skills. This morning I put a repulsion charm on my backpack to keep pickpockets and bag-snatchers away. Now that I will be using public transport to get back and forth to the campus most days, I have to be wary of such things.

It is purely for practice, today. My two shadows would probably deal with anyone who tried to snatch my backpack or steal my wallet. I cannot believe that I am important enough to merit having two hit wizards tailing me constantly, but it seems I am.

It was 2:15 am when I arrived at the transportation room at St. Germaine Hall after Portkeying back from Hogwarts. I walked outside to hail a cab and was met by Laketha, who ushered me into a Yellow Cab driven by one of her security agents from Digital Magic. She said that based on information Mr. Schuler had received from Albus Dumbledore through their paired journals, they were going to move from red alert to yellow alert status. That means possible, but not imminent danger.

Laketha says that I will be followed by two of their security agents wherever I go and that if anyone suspicious approaches me, they are to intervene and get me out of there. Act first and Obliviate later is their motto. That is pretty reassuring.

She also said that the apartment building is being monitored twenty-four hours a day, inside and out. It isn't just to protect me. She wants to ensure that Anita, Warren, and Draco are safe. She thinks any of us could be targets in order to get to Mr. Schuler. Over the next few days, while all of us are at the college, Digital Magic agents are supposed to go in and add more wards to the apartments. They want to key the spells so that the agents can easily move in and out at need.

In some ways, it was easier living in a hall of residence located in the middle of the campus. I still wouldn't choose to give up my apartment for the convenience. In spite of Draco being the landlord, Laketha says that it is actually safer for all of us there than it could be in the dormitory. She said it is a "more controlled situation".

Two of the very average looking passengers on this bus are actually hit wizards working for Digital Magic. I wonder if they will get off the bus when I do or if there will be two other agents somewhere near the bus stop?

I'm looking forward to getting home. The two service-elves were supposed to start work yesterday and one of them is a cook. I am so looking forward to eating decent food again after experiencing the Avalon College Student Cafeteria and House of Culinary Horrors.

I wonder if the service-elves are employed by Digital Magic, too. Anita said that they were Wilhelmina's cousins. It is suspiciously convenient that Draco was able to hire two well qualified service-elves at such short notice. Knowing Daniel Schuler's tendency to keep his fingers in every cauldron, it wouldn't come as a surprise. I just wonder if Draco has any idea of what is going on.

Perhaps some of Severus' suspicious nature is rubbing off on me. I smile to myself at the phrase _rubbing off_. There was certainly plenty of rubbing going on between us last night.

Draco, Warren, and Anita have 8 am classes, so they had already left by the time I got up. My first class wasn't until 10 am, so I enjoyed a little sleep before I had to leave. Poor Severus hasn't had but a few hours of sleep and he is teaching all day. I hope he gets to bed early tonight.

I wish I were going to bed with him. I promise, I'd keep my hands to myself and let him sleep. I'd just like to look for a while and then cuddle up. I'd save other things until wake-up time. Morning sex could be really great. I shall add it to my To Do list.

Snickering to myself, I wonder if I should start a _To Do to Severus_ list. I could color code it, set priorities, and establish deadlines and all the rest. Oh, the possibilities.

I was horridly depressed when I had to leave Severus, yesterday. Between that and all of the arguing during the session in the Headmaster's office, I had a terrible time holding it together. When Moody started accusing Severus of being a traitor, it was all I could do to keep from screaming at Mad-Eye. Bill gave my shoulder a sharp squeeze and I took some deep breaths and calmed myself down. I am grateful that Albus intervened and didn't let Moody attack Severus. It would have served him right if Severus had hexed him into little tiny bits.

I wonder if there is any news about Ellen Smith. The other two Healers involved in the plot to get the maiden brewer to make potions for a non-existent patient are dead. I hope she is all right. I really hope she isn't a traitor.

Before I left for the campus this morning, I asked Cindy to pass on the word to the others that I wouldn't be home until 6:30 pm. I had to stop by Professor Littlehorse's office and turn in my term paper that was due yesterday. I explained about an emergency at home and he accepted it. I think he knows that "emergency at home" is a euphemism for "Order related business".

"Order related business," I snicker to myself.

We have to meet tonight to finalize everything for our presentation tomorrow before the Interdisciplinary Project Committee. It shouldn't take too long. Anita and Warren were supposed to finish up the Power Point presentation last night. We even have photos of students from the dorm who agreed to be our before and after subjects. I feel confident our shampoo and hair conditioner will do well in the competition.

The brakes on the bus make a squealing noise that absolutely grates on my nerves as it comes to a halt at my stop. Pushing past other passengers, I make my way to the exit and step down. Four people climb down off the bus and one gets on. We all scatter in different directions, so I have no idea if any of them are going to double back to follow me. One block west and one half block north and I am standing in front of the apartment building. Nobody appears to have followed me here, so they're being careful.

Home sweet home.

I stroll into the foyer and pass the bank of mailboxes. Those are more for Muggle mail than anything else. Coming to the inside door, I punch in my security code and give the password. The door buzzes and allows me to enter. I look around at what will be the lobby. It really looks torn up right now. The construction company has taken down some of the walls to make a common dining room and to construct a transportation room. That will be handy during bad weather. We'll be able to Portkey directly into transportation rooms at the college.

There is an office that used to be the bedroom of a one bedroom apartment. It has a sign on the door that says _Building Manager_. I knock on the door and hear a high pitched "Enter" in response.

A middle aged elf is sitting behind an oak desk that looks like it is much too close to the floor. He has enormous blue eyes, a smattering of dark brown hair arranged in a comb-over, and is wearing a plaid flannel shirt. The desk is littered with what looks like pieces of tile, carpet samples and blueprints. He gives me a warm friendly smile and comes around the desk.

"You must be Hermione Granger," says the elf, holding out his hand in welcome. I accept it and we shake hands.

"You must be Edgar," I remark. "Draco has said so much about you. I've been looking forward to meeting you and your wife."

"If you want to catch Dorothy," answers Edgar, in a very friendly tone, "you'll need to go to apartment C on the top floor. The apartment is empty, so she's making use of the kitchen until the new kitchen behind the dining room is ready."

"Oh good," I exclaim. "I take it this means we get a real supper tonight?"

"The other tenants are already upstairs in Mr. Malfoy's apartment," he explains. "They held off eating, waiting for you to arrive. I believe tonight's selection is broiled salmon."

"Sounds great," I reply enthusiastically. "I am looking forward to getting to know you and your wife. I'm certain you'll both do a lot of good here."

Edgar looks pleased by my remarks.

"My wife and I had been talking about retiring from the hotel, but neither of us really wanted to quit working," he says. "When Wilhelmina told us about this place, it seemed ideal. We are essentially working part-time, which leaves us plenty of time for ourselves."

"Do you have any special plans for your free time?" I ask.

"I enjoy working with wood," says Edgar. "I like making custom furniture and have several projects I had to put off while I was working at the hotel. Dorothy is especially fond of working with stained glass. Our apartment doesn't take up much room in the basement, so Mr. Malfoy is going to let us add a workshop room. Using magic on our projects cuts down on the need for space."

"I'd love to see your work when you're done," I remark.

"Dorothy often sells her work and accepts commissions," Edgar explains. "We'll be happy to show off." He looks over at the clock. "I should mention that the contractor wants to inspect the tile installed in the bathrooms and kitchens tomorrow. He wants to make certain that the job was finished properly."

I suspect that is another way of saying someone is going to add to the wards and needs access to our apartments. I'll call Laketha tonight to confirm that.

"Feel free to let him into my apartment," I reply.

"It will be the standard practice for either me or Dorothy to remain in a tenant's apartment while any contractors or repairpersons are present," adds Edgar. "We want to ensure that nothing goes missing, even though we use reputable companies. Most basic repairs, I can do myself."

"That is very reassuring." I'm satisfied that even if he is on the payroll of Digital Magic, he is part of the protection package and safe to let in my apartment. Given that supper is waiting upstairs, I should get moving.

"Your meal should be waiting for you," Edgar comments. "I must encourage you to go and eat. Dorothy fixed lemon meringue pie for dessert.

I wonder if elves can read minds? That would certainly be one way for them to determine how to serve. Or perhaps my rumbling stomach gave it away. At least I don't have to feel guilty, since Edgar and Dorothy were hired and paid to work for Draco. I'm paying for their services through my rent.

"For lemon meringue pie, I'll run upstairs."

Edgar laughs. "That isn't a bad idea. When I worked at the hotel, I used the stairs instead of the elevator or Apparating just to burn off the calories from Dorothy's excellent cooking. I need to go to the second floor and make certain the contractor's help closed all of the windows before they left. If I may, I'll accompany you that far."

"I'd be delighted."

We have the nicest conversation about improvements to the building until Edgar gets to the second floor and leaves to go through the apartments.

I'm at the top of the final flight of stairs and turn to go to Draco's apartment. The smell of the salmon and rosemary is wafting down the hall. I can hear my friends laughing through the open door. I take a quick peek and see them watching something on Draco's big screen television. I am ready to knock on the door jamb when they start shouting a bizarre chant.

"BEETLEJUICE!"

"BEETLEJUICE!"

"BEETLEJUICE!"

I take it upon myself to walk in and see Draco literally rolling on the floor with laughter. Cindy is clapping and bobbing up and down with excitement. Warren is looking at Cindy and cracking up. Anita has tears running down her face from laughing so hard.

"What's so funny about a potion ingredient?" I ask, decidedly puzzled.

Warren reaches over from the sofa and catches my sleeve to pull me over.

"You have got to see this movie," he laughs and drops his voice to a whisper. "You've got to watch Cindy watching this movie."

"Hermione!" shouts Cindy, floating over to me. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she looks enraptured. "You should see the ghost who's the star of the movie. He can do the most amazing things and he's so handsome."

Warren budges over and I drop the backpack on the floor so that I can take the seat next to him. As soon as I do, a plate of food for each of us appears on the coffee table in front of us. There is a chorus of "Thank you, Dorothy." A second set of plates with lemon meringue pie appear and we offer a round of applause.

We are all chewing happily and watching a ghost called Beetlejuice trying to scare rude corporeals out of a house owned by two very nice ghosts. At the same time, he is trying to get the live people's pretty Goth daughter to marry him so he can be alive again. She looks like Winona Ryder.

She is Winona Ryder. I don't blame her for not wanting to marry this particular ghost. He's grotesque. Funny, but grotesque. That's okay, though. Cindy wants to marry him.

"What are they doing to him?" Cindy cries out in dismay. "That woman made his head shrink!" Cindy sinks to the floor and sits down next to Draco, despairing. Draco scoots over to get away from the cold.

"I'm sorry, Cindy," he says. "You know that I'd hug you if I could."

Cindy looks so sad. "It's okay Draco." She floats back up closer to the ceiling, taking the cold with her. "They didn't have to hurt him like that," she says mournfully.

"It's just a movie," says Warren, the picture of sympathy. "They didn't really hurt him."

"Look at the screen, Cindy," says Anita, pointing. "Those are the credits. You see the line that says _Beetlejuice_? It shows that he was played by the actor Michael Keaton. You've seen movies when you were alive. He's an actor playing a role. Shrinking his head was a special effect. They didn't really shrink his head."

Cindy looks distraught.

"It's not like that," exclaims Cindy. "I've seen movies. I went to see John Barrymore in _Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ the week before I died. He didn't do anything to his face to make him look like Mr. Hyde. He wore stage makeup and changed his expression, but it was still his face. You can see that Beetlejuice is real. You saw the tentacles and the things he did with his face. Those were real, just like John Barrymore."

I think Cindy is ready to cry. Draco gets up from the floor.

"Cindy," he says kindly. "I'm going to go over to the computer and we're going to look up Michael Keaton on the Internet. I'm sure we can find a picture of him so you can see how he looks without the makeup and the special effects."

Draco and Cindy retreat to his office in the second bedroom to go look for Michael Keaton. We're finishing off the lemon meringue when they come back.

"We have good news," announces Draco. "We found a website that sells movie posters and ordered the Beetlejuice poster for Cindy."

"Michael Keaton doesn't look exactly like Beetlejuice," she says, looking a little sad. "But, I've never had a movie poster before and it is very sweet of Draco to buy it for me."

"We'll put it up on the back of the office door and you can see it whenever you want," offers Draco. "Tomorrow, before I leave for the campus, I'll start the movie and you can watch it again."

Anita is gazing at Draco with such approval. Who knew he could be so thoughtful and considerate of a ghost?

"Thanks, Draco," says Cindy, still a little sad. "I think I'm going to do a patrol now. I could use a little time alone." She drifts out of the open door and down the hall.

I get up and close the door after her so she can't hear us.

"That was really kind of you to get her that poster," I tell Draco.

"I had no idea she would take the movie so seriously," sighs Draco. "I thought she'd find it funny and have a good laugh."

"Michael Keaton has broken another heart and he's never even met her," says Anita wryly.

"I guess we need to remember that Cindy has been haunting a cemetery and a street for the last seventy years," I remind them. "Unlike your average house or castle ghost, she hasn't seen technology change except for cars. Compared to silent movies, _Beetlejuice _had to look pretty real to her."

"Silent movies?" asks Draco, puzzled.

"The first movies didn't have sound," explains Warren. "They didn't know how to incorporate it into film technology. It's like wizarding photographs. They move, but they don't speak. Modern films are more like wizarding portraits by comparison."

"Sometimes they show silent movies on television," offers Anita. "We'll have to keep an eye out and have Cindy sit with us and tell us about them."

"We definitely better not show her _Ghostbusters_," says Warren, grimly. "Laser containments fields, proton packs, and crossing the streams might really upset her."

"To say nothing of Slimer and the giant marshmallow man," adds Anita.

We all nod in solemn agreement.

-----------------------  
May 5th, 1999  
Evening  
Severus

"Say that to me again," demands Ellen, just this side of irate.

"When did you take up with the Death Eaters?" asks Moody, his expression deliberately casual and obviously false.

"I thought that's what you said," she replies, her voice hard. "I just can't believe you or anyone else would have the unmitigated nerve to ask such a thing."

"Unmitigated nerve?" says Moody, sarcastically. "That isn't exactly a denial."

Ellen looks furious and moves to get up, possibly with the intention of punching Mad-Eye in what is left of his nose.

Mark, her husband and former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, reaches over to restrain her. He is looking daggers at Moody. If Jean had not confiscated both of their wands, some very potent hexes would be flying right about now.

We are in the parlor at headquarters. The shades are drawn. Blackout and sound-proofing spells are in place. Ellen and Mark are sitting on the sofa. Mad-Eye Moody has removed the coffee table and is sitting on a dining room chair directly in front of them. Tonks and Remus are standing beside the fireplace, leaning against the wall and watching closely. Minerva and I are sitting in the wingback chairs, facing the sofa. Jean is standing with the wands in her hands, off to the side. All of us are watching Ellen and Mark Smith intensely, looking for any sign of guilt. I prefer not to think there is any reason for them to show guilt.

Albus is not here by Poppy's orders. He was ready to depart with us when Poppy decided that his blood pressure was much too high. She potioned him appropriately and sent him back to bed under protest.

"How about we begin at the beginning and maintain cool heads this time?" suggests Jean, her arms crossed as she looks at Moody with a disgusted expression.

"Fine with me," says Moody, snarling. "So, when did the two of you join up with Voldemort? First War or Second? Pulling a Pettigrew on us, eh?

This time, Ellen restrains Mark. The air is crackling with static magical charges, as Mark is about to release some wandless magic in his fury.

"We checked your forearms and didn't find the Dark Mark," continues Moody. "We have it on good authority that not all Death Eaters have been marked there. I think Tonks ought to take Madam Smith here and do a body search. I can handle Mr. Smith."

Ellen is absolutely outraged and her fingers curl into claws. Mark is ready to hurl himself out of the chair and attack Moody. Before he can, the static magical charge issuing from the powerful wizard coalesces into a bolt of blue light aimed straight at Moody's head.

I would have been in favor of allowing it to strike, but Jean puts up a block that absorbs it before it can hit its target. That was incredibly fast wand work on her part. She was an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.

"That's it, Mad-Eye," announces Jean, totally incensed. She turns towards Remus and Tonks. "Send for Shacklebolt. We've got to have someone officially on the case here for the questioning and it sure as hell shouldn't be Moody SINCE HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS PRIORITIES STRAIGHT AND CAN'T KEEP A CIVIL TONGUE IN HIS HEAD!!!"

Moody's ears should be ringing. Mine certainly are.

In short order, Tonks sends a message Patronus to Shacklebolt, the enormous silver wolf disappearing through the wall.

"You didn't need to shout, for Merlin's sake," grumbles Moody. "I certainly don't need any help from Shacklebolt to conduct an interrogation of a couple of Death Eaters. I was doing this when the lot of you were in nappies. Excepting Minerva, of course."

Minerva snorts in response.

"You most certainly have been interrogating prisoners with techniques right out of the Dark Ages and it doesn't surprise me that you've been doing it for over forty years," says Mark, pointing an accusing finger. "You and Barty Crouch came up with the idea of allowing Unforgiveables to be used by Aurors in interrogation as well as in combat situations. You think we don't know what you did to Snape before Dumbledore took him out of your hands?"

"I prefer to be left out of this one," I say with deadly softness. I am not about to be a topic of discussion, here. My wand hand aches as I remember Moody's precise spell work as he carefully broke every bone in it.

"Mark my words, Moody," says Smith, angrily. "What you and Crouch cooked up did serious damage to the credibility of Magical Law Enforcement. The day you became as bad as the enemy, you gave them even more reason to want to break the Ministry."

"Pah," responds Moody in disdain.

We hear the sound of footsteps coming through the kitchen. Shacklebolt's tall form walks through the door, much to my relief. He and Moody are of equal rank, if not of equal seniority. Tonks is not and had no authority to overrule Moody. As an Unspeakable, Jean lacks official authority but holds enormous influence at MLE because of her specialization in unsolved magical crimes.

Kingsley takes off his hat and his shaved head gleams in the lamplight.

"So," he says, carefully assessing the scene. Jean looks miniscule by comparison as she looks up at him.

"Moody is having a very difficult time maintaining objectivity while questioning Ellen and Mark," she says in a deceptively pleasant manner. "I would appreciate it if you could take over."

"I am the Auror in charge of this case," says Shacklebolt, looking at Moody. "I will handle it. Thank you, Moody."

Something nonverbal is communicated between the two and Moody gets up from the chair in front of the sofa. He drags his wooden leg as he backs away, muttering something under his breath that I take to relate to "a bunch of friggin pussies".

"It is good to see you both safe," says Shacklebolt, turning his attention to the Smiths. "We had concerns that whoever is behind all of this might have done away with both of you."

"Thank you, Kingsley," says Ellen, glaring at Moody. "We'd really like to know what this is about."

"Perhaps we should begin with where you have been and what you have done since Saturday?" inquires Shacklebolt.

Jean signals the Dictoquill to start recording what is said.

"We've had this trip planned for at least two months," says Ellen, considerably calmer. "Our daughter, Kendra, has completed her apprenticeship and licensing examinations. She was just admitted to the Solicitor's Guild. The three of us went to Paris for a day of sightseeing and dinner. Kendra had to return to London on Sunday morning because she was scheduled to start her new job on Monday. We took a Portkey to Santorini to spend a few days holiday there.

"I was supposed to return to work today," she says sharply. "My shift started at 4 pm, for which I am now conspicuously absent."

"I don't have to be back to work until tomorrow morning," clarifies Mark. "We didn't know anything was wrong until Tonks showed up while we were having lunch. We left with her by her request. The next thing we know, Moody joins us, confiscates our wands and we're being questioned about being Death Eaters."

"What places did you see in Paris and where did you have dinner?" asks Shacklebolt.

I can see he does not want to release any information about the crimes to them. If they say anything about it, they will implicate themselves.

"We had dinner at Chez Maitre Paul. I had the _aumonière d'écrevisses au coulis de crustaces_," says Ellen in her perfect French. "Mark had the _poulette fermiere a la crème gratinée_. Our daughter had the _Gateau de Cepes_. We enjoyed a bottle of _Bougueil_ and had a lovely apricot tart for dessert.

"For the benefit of the Philistines among us, _Mister Moody_," says Ellen glaring at Moody with overt hostility. "These do not translate into broiled kitten with a lemon rosemary sauce, sautéed puppy with capers, or roasted small child with mushrooms. We did not drink blood, nor did we toast the Dark Lord at any point during the evening."

Moody growls in response.

Ellen turns her head towards me and looks guilty. "No offense, Severus."

"None taken," I reply, although I am rather offended. None of the aforementioned has ever been on the menu at a Death Eater event. While I have been required to toast the Dark Lord before, we do not drink blood. Excepting the Dark Lord, who has been known to partake now and then. This does not seem the time to quibble when Ellen is actually criticizing Moody and not me.

"Prior to that," says Mark, "we went to the _Musée Marmotan_ to see the Monets."

"If you check my handbag," sniffs Ellen, "you'll find an assortment of ticket stubs and receipts that verify all of this."

"I've already searched the handbag," says Tonks. "There are three ticket stubs for the museum and the receipts for the hotels in Paris and Santorini. I didn't find a receipt for any restaurants."

"Those are probably in my wallet," says Mark, reaching slowly and carefully into his pocket.

Shacklebolt waves his wand over the wallet, checking for magical traps. He finds none and hands it to Tonks who looks through it.

"A receipt for what looks like dinner for three at the Chez Maitre Paul," she says, holding up a piece of paper. "There's another for the Katina Tavern for two fish dinners."

"That's what we did on Sunday after we left Paris," explains Ellen. "We went to Santorini and took a walk around Oia. We bought food at a market and had a picnic. Unless Moody stole my camera from my luggage and exposed the film, you'll find all kinds of photographs from around the town. We stayed at the Agnadi Villas Hotel. They only serve breakfast there, so on Monday we had lunch at the Katina Tavern and supper at the Ambrosia Restaurant – which has a wonderful view and I highly recommend it. Today, we were having lunch at the Papagalos Restaurant when Tonks showed up and asked us to come with her."

"Please note that no force was required," says Mark, scathingly. Both he and Ellen are staring at Moody again. "We paid our bill and left peacefully and offered our full cooperation. Until this warthog on one and a half legs showed up and started accusing us of consorting with Death Eater scum and betraying the Order.

"Sorry about that description," Mark apologizes. "Present company excepted, of course."

I wave my hand to indicate they should just get on with it. Fortunately, I am not a deeply sensitive man or I would be offended. Perhaps, I am a bit offended anyway.

"Why didn't you tell your daughter where you were going?" asks Shacklebolt. "When Tonks questioned her, she had no idea where the two of you went."

"It was a last minute decision," says Mark. "We decided to be spontaneous and celebrate our anniversary a little early. We didn't have enough time for a cruise, but we've been talking about taking a cruise to the Greek Isles some year."

Moody is back on his feet, or should I say back on his foot? He points at Mark.

"Spontaneous, my dimpled bum," he shouts. "All it would take is Polyjuice and they've got an alibi. Every single place you've got a carefully saved receipt or ticket stub for is MUGGLE!. You could be doing your dirty deeds for the Dark Lord, have imposters cover your tracks until you've finished your assignment, swap places and have a nice celebration. There's practically no possibility you're going to run into anyone you know from the wizarding world in Santorini and it's pretty unlikely in Muggle Paris. Nothing to detect magically what you're up to. You could have set up this whole thing from the start.

"I say we dose 'em with Veritaserum and see what we get," insists Moody, having worked himself into a self-righteous froth.

Ellen is on her feet and points her finger in Moody's face.

"Do you really think imposters could have fooled our own daughter from Saturday until Sunday morning? Besides, what the hell are you accusing us of doing? And why do you keep yelling at us?" she yells.

"ENOUGH!!!" booms Shacklebolt, whirling on Moody. "One more word out of you and I'm sending you out of here. You can sit back and observe quietly or you can leave. Take your choice."

Moody's non-magical eye glares at Shacklebolt. He snarls and sits down with a huff.

Jean moves to stand next to him. With the keen hearing I have honed over my years of spying, I can just overhear her.

"One wrong move and I'll have you paralyzed so fast, your good eye will pop out," she says in a whisper.

"Just you try it, missy," he snorts.

"Give me a reason, any reason," she offers, with the sweetest of smiles.

Moody must know something about Jean's skills, because he appears to be settling down into his chair. Smart move on his part.

"Before we were so rudely interrupted," says Ellen, watching Moody, "I believe somebody was going to tell us what we're accused of doing?"

"I am not accusing you of anything," says Shacklebolt, neatly sidestepping the issue. "I simply want to know where you have been for the last seventy-two hours and any proof that you have that you were there."

"You've spoken to our daughter. You know we were with Kendra from late Saturday morning until Sunday morning," Ellen says, her eyes moving from one of us to the next. "We were in Santorini from Sunday morning until today. You have receipts that show it."

"When was the last time you saw Healer Spence?" asks Shacklebolt.

"Aloysius Spence?" asks Ellen, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. "He's the fertility specialist in Gynecology and Maternity, as I recall. I can't remember the last time I saw him. There's not a lot of call for Curse Reversal in that department, except when a mother in labor gets irate with the baby's father. Occasionally, I end up having to remove some curses so that particular parts return to normal functioning. Well, that's after reattaching them."

It is interest to note that all of us men who are sitting suddenly decide to cross our legs.

"I don't believe I've seen him since the last time we had a Healers' assembly at St. Mungo's. All of the Healers come to those, except the ones who are dealing with emergencies."

" You have had no contact through correspondence or shared any patients with him?" questions Shacklebolt.

"Never," replies Ellen, sounding very certain of herself. "There just isn't much referral work between our departments.

"What about Healer Powell?" he continues.

"Powell and I work together regularly," says Ellen. "Severe headaches, seizures, hallucinations, comas, and all sorts of neurological issues can be curse related. I'm frequently called in on his cases to screen for those in a difficult diagnosis situation. I refer patients to him if I think there is a medical cause rather than a curse at the base of a patient's problem."

"Do you have any patients in common at the moment?"

"Two," replies Ellen. "I'm treating a ninety-seven year old woman for a long lasting visual distortion hex that her older sister hit her with in 1942. Her sister accused her of seeing the world through rose colored spectacles. More than fifty years later, everything is still tinted pink. We're trying to figure out exactly where the hex is anchored. Darn thing keeps migrating to different parts of the brain. Just when we think we've got it, the hex shifts.

"The other patient is a forty-two year old man with a seizure disorder that was somehow made worse when a Knockturn Alley hooker hit him with an Itching Testicles curse I haven't seen before. Seems he didn't want to pay for services rendered. I tracked down the curse and it's a variation on an old Heat Rash hex that the witch modified for her own use. Problem was, she made up extra wand movements on the spot in order to narrow down the target area. We had to use a Pensieve to get those worked out."

I shift and cross my legs in the other direction. I notice the other men doing the same thing.

"I should tell you that we already have an order from the Wizengamot for St. Mungo's to give us information on any cases shared or referred by Healers Powell, Spence, and Smith," says Shacklebolt.

Moody looks like he is using the last bit of will power he has to restrain himself from speaking. Jean is watching him and tapping her wand in the palm of her hand. I daresay, he understands the message.

"Do you remember anything about a case where you and Powell treated a child?"

"We've had a few dozen, most related to siblings hexing each other," replies Ellen. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Nothing current or recent?" asks Shacklebolt.

Ellen pauses and looks thoughtful. "A brother and sister were experimenting on each other with fever spells using their grandfather's wand. They wanted to get out of going to school. The boy's hypothalmus was damaged in the process and couldn't properly regulate his body temperature after that. We fixed it. I think that was in February."

Jean looks like she has an idea. She steps forward and looks down at Shacklebolt. "May I?" she asks.

Shacklebolt signals her to go ahead.

"What is your procedure for issuing a memo or a written referral?" she asks.

"It depends on how busy I am," replies Ellen. "If I have time, I'll use a Dictoquill and have the ward clerk make copies and send it on. If I am very busy, I'll dictate to a Recording Orb and give it to the clerk to transcribe, make copies, etcetera."

"When do you sign?"

"Reggie gets them to me before she makes the copies," Ellen recites. "Sometimes, she puts them in my mail box. If it is something urgent, I sign off when she catches me on the ward."

"Do you attach your magical signature to each document?"

"Standard practice at St. Mungo's," she replies. "Every memo, requisition, potion prescription, patient document, or whatever has to have the author's magical signature. That's how we verify everything."

"Ellen," says Jean, wearily, "I need you to be absolutely honest about this. Do you read every single thing to which you sign and affix your magical signature?"

"Well," she says, looking thoughtful. "No, I don't. Patient information and reports, I always read through for accuracy. There are other things like supply requisitions, maintenance requests, equipment transfers, and things of that sort that I usually don't take time to read. I delegate those to Reggie to handle. When she puts them together, she hands me the stack and I just sign everything in it. Half the time, I'm not even aware of what I'm signing."

"Who is Reggie?"

"The ward clerk," she answers. "Her name is Regina Woldscott. The ward clerk handles or manages the paperwork for the ward. Reggie has been doing that forever, probably before I was born."

"So, she's highly experienced," says Jean, eagerly, "knows how to get everything done, has all the right connections, everyone trusts her, and she knows everyone's habits. She has access to work schedules and knows where things are kept. She might be able to slip in a letter for you to sign in the middle of a stack of requisitions."

Shacklebolt rises. "We need to get her in for questioning."

"Before she disappears," mutters Jean, "assuming she hasn't already."

"Tonks and I will pick her up," says Moody, stretching his stiff leg as he rises. "We'll take her to MLE offices. You go ahead and finish up here."

Shacklebolt swallows a retort, rolls his eyes, and waves Tonks on.

"It'll give him something useful to do and get him out of our hair," says Shacklebolt, after their departure.

"Moody and Tonks are going to take in my ward clerk for questioning," says Ellen, uncertainly. "Don't you think it is time to tell us what the hell is going on?"

"Would you prefer tea or something stronger?" offers Shacklebolt.

"Something stronger," replies Ellen with a sigh.

Remus moves towards the cupboard where the stash of alcoholic beverages are kept.

"I have some bad news for you about Healers Powell and Spence," says Jean, sadly. "The good news is that both of you are alive and I don't believe you are Death Eaters."

---------------------------------  
Hermione  
Later in the evening

Having resolved the issue of Cindy's broken heart, at least for the moment, Draco sits down and starts to eat his lemon meringue pie. That is definitely a look of bliss on his face. Meanwhile, Anita is giving me a curious look.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"I'm fine," I reply. Time to launch into my cover story. "When I started running a fever on Sunday, I mentioned it in my paired journal to Bill's Mum. She had herself convinced that I was getting the sneazles again and told Bill to come and get me so she could take me to a Healer. As you can see, I don't have them." I hold my bare forearms out to show my clear skin.

"So you stayed overnight and came back this morning?" asks Warren.

"Yes," I reply, "A visit to the Healer confirmed that I was just coming down with a cold, a dose of Pepper-Up and Cold Remedy potions and I was fine. Bill and I thought we'd take advantage of my unexpected visit and spend the night together. Officially, he was going to bring me back here and then go back to Hogwarts. I was actually going to get a hotel room in Muggle Edinburgh and Bill was going to join me for the night."

"I take it your plans didn't work out?" asks Draco, putting down his empty plate.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley figured out that Bill spent the night here on Saturday," I reply, wincing.

"Big lecture?" asks Anita.

"The biggest," I reply, with a rather put-out expression. "There was almost a wedding at wand point. We heard about family honor, demonstrating proper respect towards witches, what's wrong with kids these days, and any number of other related topics."

"Ouch," comments Draco. "I hate those lectures. Did it start with _I am so disappointed, I thought I could expect better from you?"_

"I didn't know you were watching," I reply, coming way too close to chuckling about it. The others don't hesitate. "I think they hand out those phrases in the care and raising of children manual given to all parents at birth."

"It was late by the time they were through chastising us. So, Bill and I spent the night at the Weasleys in separate bedrooms. We were allowed a goodbye kiss before I left. We're supposed to have a proper wizarding courtship from now on, which means that Bill and I will have to be very careful and sneak about."

"That must have really been something to see," laughs Draco. "A former Gringott's curse breaker and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Bill still gets stern lectures from his parents."

"I don't think that changes no matter how old you get," says Warren, refilling wine glasses. "My brother and sister are both older than me, married, and have kids. They still get lots of advice from Mom and Dad, whether they want it or not. When I think back on it, I'm lucky my parents have been so accepting of the fact that I'm gay. Elliot's parents went absolutely nuts when he told them."

Anita rests her chin on her hand and looks at Warren. "When did you know that you were gay?"

Warren gives a little snort. "I think I knew I was gay before I knew what gay was. Before I knew that sex was something other than whether you were a boy or a girl."

Everyone laughs.

"I always knew I was different than other boys," he explains. "Trucks and toy soldiers never did anything for me. I wanted a Ken doll and used to dress him up in the fanciest and most colorful outfits they sold. I sewed sequins and beads onto them to make them even better. When I played with superhero action figures with the other kids, I always wanted the most flamboyant ones. Having a perfectly clean bedroom was important to me and I wanted no part of cartoon character bedspreads and curtains. I was giving Mom advice about interior decorating when I was a kid and she admitted my taste was better than hers.

"When I got crushes on teachers, it was always the guys. I think I was thirteen when Mom and Dad and I had our first conversation about it. It didn't come as any surprise to them. I know they love me, but they like me, too. I wouldn't be who I am if I wasn't gay. It's part of the whole package."

"You're one of the most interesting and likeable people I've ever met," I tell him.

"I most certainly am," boasts Warren. "You guys are incredibly lucky to know me and have my help with interior decorating. Your places wouldn't look half as nice as they do if you were completely on your own."

Draco looks around at his chrome, leather, and glass living room. "You're right about that. If not for your advice, I would have purchased furniture that's really too big for the room."

Warren flicks his hair back and preens a bit.

"Now that we've formed the Warren Stevens fan club," says Anita, poking him in the shoulder, "I want to know more about what Hermione is going to do."

"What any good Gryffindor would do," I tease. "Bill and I will get together whenever we can and we'll sneak if we have to."

"You can certainly sneak him in here," laughs Draco. "We're not going to tell on you."

"I really appreciate that," I reply. "The Weasleys are terrific people and I'm grateful for all they've done for me, but times have changed since they were our age and they have some old fashioned ideas."

"I think it is hard for parents to understand that their kids don't necessarily want to live the same kind of life they did," says Warren.

"I know what you mean," says Anita. "I adore my parents and they've accomplished amazing things, but sometimes it seems like all they ever do is work. I realize that when I was little, Dad was getting his company going. Then, he started the effort to create Avalon College. I think there were weeks at a time when I didn't see him at all. I'm grateful that Mom decided to only work part time until Adam and I started school or Wilhelmina would have been the one who raised us."

"It was the same way with my parents," comments Warren. "Both of them are lawyers and they work sixty hours a week. The three of us kids were pretty much raised by a series of nannies and housekeepers."

"I can't complain," says Draco. "My father was busy working for the Ministry of Magic and his political activities, but my Mum never worked. Father has always made time for me, even if he had to plan it into his week and make a date for him and me to do things together."

"My parents used to do the same sort of thing," I explain. "They had their dental practice, which kept them busy. Emergencies weren't unusual either. Someone would call about losing a filling or getting a toothache and one of them would end up going in on a Sunday to take care of it. My parents were older though. My Dad was in his fifties and my Mum in her forties before I was born, so their practice was already well-established before I ever came along. I think that helped. We always had dinnertime together and most of their evenings were free."

"All I know is that I want things to be different for me," declares Anita. "I don't want to work eighty hours a week. It is awesome to think that between Apple, Digital Magic, and Microsoft, the world changed. My Dad is one of the people who invented personal computing and the world will never be the same. That's not me. I want a career, but I want a family, too. One lesson I've learned from my father's example is that I won't continually choose career over family."

"I may never be in that position," says Warren. "Someday, I'll probably settle down and have a really committed relationship. If that happens, we might adopt. I'd like a family of my own."

"Those are really tough issues," I comment. "I'd like to get married and have children, but not right away. I've got at least four more years of college and more after that if I decide to pursue an advanced degree in chemistry. I'd like to have my career established before I have children. Besides, I can't see being married and having my husband in Scotland while I'm in Chicago. That doesn't seem like much of a marriage if we can't even live together."

"You could have a really long engagement," teases Warren.

"I don't think that would satisfy the Weasleys," I reply with a huff. "I've invited them to visit on Sunday for the American Mother's Day holiday. Bill is coming, too. That way they can see that I'm not living in a den of iniquity."

"We had the option of living in a den of iniquity?" laughs Anita. "That sounds interesting."

"Instead of the common dining room, we could put in an opium den instead," suggests Warren.

We're all laughing at the thought.

"What time are the Weasleys coming?" asks Draco. "I've just invited my parents to come for dinner at noon – which would be 6 pm their time. We don't want them running into each other."

"Why don't you want them to run into the Weasleys?" asks Anita, puzzled.

"They don't get on very well," I reply.

"My father works for the Ministry of Magic from time-to-time," says Draco. "Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry full-time and they've had some conflicts."

"Political differences," I interject, eager to get away from any in-depth discussion of this particular topic. "They've had some pretty heated disagreements about political issues."

Draco looks a little relieved.

"They may not run into each other at all," I state, thinking through logical time periods for meals and tours. "Your parents are to arrive at noon. Mr. Weasley has to work on Sunday. They aren't going to arrive here until 2 pm our time. There will be some overlap time, but not necessarily in a way that they will run into each other."

"That could work," says Draco, nodding. "I've asked the contractors to put a rush on the transportation room. Mr. Abramowitz says he can get it done and on Saturday, he can give us Portkeys from St. Germain's transportation room to the one here in the building. There isn't time to ship Portkeys to Britain, so if we each meet with family when they Portkey into the dormitory, we should be okay.

"That's great news," I reply, very relieved. "Mr. Weasley is so fascinated with Muggle technology, I'd never get him off of the bus."

"I can't picture my parents on a bus at all," declares Draco, shaking his head. "Father would be hexing people before the bus ever got moving. Mother would be so offended by the random bits of dirt that she wouldn't know where to go with her robes so they wouldn't touch anything."

"They never get out among Muggles at all?" asks Anita.

I don't want to even think about the circumstances when Lucius Malfoy would be out among Muggles.

"No," replies Draco, very definite. "My parents live in a closed world of upper class wizarding society. When some of their friends learned I was coming to Chicago to attend Avalon College, they reacted like I was being sent to live among cannibals."

"There will be no eating Draco jokes allowed," says Warren primly.

I'm laughing so hard, I have tears running down my face. Draco has turned bright pink.

"I'd never say that as a joke," retorts Anita, blushing.

That has all of us rolling with laughter.

"If we can get away from smutty jokes at my expense," says Draco, once we've all calmed down. "I should clarify that I am willing to be eaten, but only by one person and under the right circumstances."

We are back to roaring with laughter.

It takes ten minutes, with bathroom breaks and refills of beverages before we settle down.

"The whole situation is complicated," says Draco. "It isn't easy to get away from family history, though. My family has been in England since the Norman conquest. There are certain things that are expected from anyone who carries the Malfoy name. My father has taken particular political stances and I am expected to hold the same views."

"There has to be a lot of pressure in that," says Warren.

"Huge. Enormous. Overwhelming." Draco shakes his head. "I love my heritage, but I have more freedom to be my own person here in the United States than I ever will in England."

"So, stay here," says Anita, meaningfully. She looks so hopeful.

"I don't know if I can," he says regretfully.

"There are three years before you complete the Charms program," says Anita. "Five years, if the Dominus Charms program is started in two years like they are planning."

"A lot can happen in five years," I murmur.

Draco nods. "I have to keep my options open."

"Sometimes, that's the best plan," says Anita, encouraging.

"Speaking of plans," says Warren, "We need to go over our presentation for tomorrow. My professional future with one of the top wizarding hair care companies is on the line."

Just in time to keep us from getting serious, Warren makes us laugh. Again.

--------------------------  
Paired Journal, Simultaneous Communication  
Severus to Hermione

…When I left, Moody and Tonks had departed to bring the ward clerk into custody. It appears that Ellen and Mark Smith may be vindicated, depending on what is learned from the ward clerk.

_I hope Ellen isn't implicated in the attack on Poppy. I'll admit that I only met her once, but she seemed very committed to what we're doing with developing the weapon against the Dark Lord. Besides, she's nice._

_I know, I'm being naïve thinking that people I like can't possibly be Death Eaters._

I have known her since we were both students and agree that she is an unlikely candidate to be a Death Eater. Except for Moody overreacting and making a fool of himself, the questioning could have been done in ten minutes and without any drama. After the questioning was done, I administered a standard analysis that revealed no traces of Polyjuice in their blood. Residue stays in the bloodstream for almost a week after the potion is used.

_Then Moody's theory won't hold water. _

Unless a glamour was used. Their daughter testified that she was with her parents during the critical time period on Saturday and Sunday. It would be difficult to fool one's own child for that long a period of time. Moody was stretching credibility too far when he proposed that Ellen might have been stringing all of us along as a secret Death Eater. He is too paranoid and sees Death Eaters everywhere.

_If I'd lost as many body parts to Death Eaters as Moody has, I'd be paranoid, too._

Please keep your body parts intact. I have plans for them.

_You have my full attention, if you'__d like to elaborate on those plans.._

I will be happy to share the particulars with you. Perhaps tomorrow evening? It is late.

_You __know, you keep saying that you are not a romantic man, but then you send me a letter like that one from this morning and I fall in love with you all over again._

I do not believe you know how good those words are to my tired eyes.

_With everything that has happened in the last three days, you've hardly had any rest. Now that you are back in your quarters, please go to bed. We can catch up on everything tomorrow night or the next. I can feel your exhaustion through the journal._

I wonder if the ritual has created a tighter bond between us? Are you sensing my weariness?

_Becoming lovers__ has strengthened all of my feelings for you, but I don't think I can sense your thoughts or feelings. When I wrote that I can feel your exhaustion through the journal, it was because your writing was less precise than usual. That's a sign that you're worn out and I'm responsible for a good portion of that. _

Ah, yes. I do hope I lived up to expectations.

_You certainly did__. I know that I enjoyed what we did together and would like to do it again on a regular basis, if we can find a way._

Therein lies the rub.

_I'll settle for rubbing.__ On a serious note, we are separated by an ocean and half a continent. Since we don't know how the Dark Lord will react to the news that I was the maiden brewer, I have to lie low. I've been told that there will be two security agents following me anytime I leave the apartment building. The building itself is under watch at all times._

Good. I find it reassuring that you are protected. I do not know when the Dark Lord will summon me. I have requested an audience through Pettigrew.

_I feel pretty secure. __I confirmed with Laketha that Digital Magic security agents are going to come in tomorrow while all of us are in class and do adjustments to the wards. They want to make sure that they can get in and out quickly in case they need to remove us from the building._

Then they should be in place before the audience is granted. In the morning, I will do some mind work and store my memories of you in a specially constructed space in my mental potions storeage room. After the audience, I will have a better sense of how Voldemort will react and any actions he might take when he learns you were the Order's maiden brewer.

_We'll be prepared on this end, if he decides to take action. The only thing is that we have to wait until the Dark Lord makes a move. If I went into hiding early, he'd know that there's a spy__ among his Death Eaters who tipped off the Order._

If I receive any indication that the Dark Lord will order action taken against you, I will notify one of the Order's inner circle immediately so additional protections can be put in place.

_We'll be ready. Please don't worry about me._

It is my job to worry about everything.

_I suspect you do a fine job of it, but not tonight. We'll have a long conversation tomorrow and you can__ tell me what Tonks and Moody learn from the ward clerk. _

_In all of this, I'm trying to say that I love you very much. I've never been happier in my life than I was last night when we were together. When I go to sleep tonight, I'm going to imagine that I'm lying next to you. I may have to settle for hugging my pillow, but I hope you know that in my heart, I'm there beside you._

I shall hold tight to that image. Good night, Hermione. I love you.

Good night, Severus. I love you, too.

----------------------  
Author's notes

Thank you to Excessivelyperky who suggested that Resurrection Cindy might really enjoy Beetlejuice. It's one of my all time favorite movies. I watch it whenever I'm sick and it cheers me right up.

Items from Chez Maitre Paul's menu, which is a real restaurant in Paris:

_aumonière d'écrevisses au coulis de crustaces_: Crayfish and vegetables in a pocket with shellfish sauce.  
_poulette fermiere a la crème gratinée_: Chicken with a cheese and mushroom sauce.  
_Gateau de Cepes: _Cassoulet with duck confit.

All of the sites listed in Santorini are real. Have I been to Santorini, Paris or Britain? No, but I can dream and use the Internet.

The last two weeks have been busier than I ever anticipated. Apologies to everyone for not responding to reviews. I really figured that you would rather have this chapter get out.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Lady Javert, Angie S, o0morgana0o, Princessfiona, Droxy, Katyes, Odogoddess, Yapyap, Wynnleaf, T wrecks, Darque Hart, Yasmin, Kirien, FarmerLiz, Lipasnape, Excessivelyperky, KKDuke, Arsinoe de Blassenville, MollysSister, Trulyamused, Sunsethill, Rinnyo8, Ella Snape, LaurenKe 1, Erytha, Latinachikita, Sweety-Pie5445, Andi-Scribbles, Lady Slone, Marble Meadow, Squiggles.Candi, Toby, Squeaker19450, Arime Setta, Artic Dragon, Severessa, Christa, Snape's Witch, Broken2nite, Maddie50, Nirtak.Enaile, Notwritten, Oscarxena, Mxdp, Koliber, Jocemum, Dun, Ebbe04, Deceptive Fates, Celena Murdock, Pickles87, Thebattydragon, MMADfan, Born-Of-Elven-Blood, Jade2099, Perwinkle27, KarlaMarie, Medicdaddy, Evil-mastermind666, KimJo, Arynwy, Satay, Vivian B, LadyLibraSnake89, NotsoChickenLittle, and Snakegirl-Sprocket.


	83. Chapter 83

I don't own any of this. My wardrobe would be much nicer if I did.

Thank you to Julia who looked over this chapter and made it much more authentically British. I would also like to express appreciation to Jocemum and Excessivelyperky who offered input.

A round of applause for Katyes, who has translated 64 chapters of _Looking for Magic _into German.

-------------------------  
May 9th, 1999  
Severus

-------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Hermione  
Early morning

Dear Hermione,

I have received a rather last-minute invitation to join the Malfoys for Sunday lunch at Draco's apartment. According to Lucius, this is America's Mothers Day holiday and Draco has invited his parents to come for a meal and a tour of the apartment building. Draco has added me to the invitation at his parents' request.

The Dark Lord has approved the visit, so we will be arriving a little before noon, your time.

No, the Dark Lord has not summoned me. This approval was obtained through a reliable third party. Lucius Malfoy is still supposed to be recovering from the Dark Lord's Crucio a week ago. Officially, this is the first time he has left Malfoy Manor since the incident.

This will be an opportunity for me to examine the wards at the apartment building to see what is there. If you have not already done so, please notify Laketha that Draco will have guests who have the Dark Mark and that no mayhem is intended. They should not interfere with our presence or they will tip off Draco that the wards have been tampered with.

We may not see each other while I am there. Even if we do, we cannot behave as if we have seen each other since you left Hogwarts. I know that you understand that if I behave formally and standoffish, it is necessary for the double roles I play.

I will be at headquarters this morning. We are going to test our potion on the runespoor. I shall write to you tonight to tell you what progress we have made.

Love,  
Severus

-------------------------  
Severus  
Late morning

Potter leans over the large tempered glass aquarium as he converses with the three headed runespoor. The screen covering the top allows the two of them to speak to each other in a series of hisses.

"This is not a happy snake," announces Potter.

"You gave her a rat last night," calls Remus from his position at the top of the stairs. "She should be plenty happy in snake world."

"She was hoping for Pettigrew," Potter calls back. That has everyone chuckling. It appears I am not the only person who entertains hopes that Wormtail and our runespoor might one day have an intimate acquaintance.

A werewolf who is afraid of snakes. I shake my head at the notion. I wonder if he is afraid of snakes when he is in werewolf form? Perhaps, a snake might be a repellent in the manner of garlic to a vampire? I will not be the one to find out.

"Actually," says Potter, "the runespoor is unhappy because she knows something happened to the other snakes. She says that happy-sleepy made them different than they were and we plan to make her happy-sleepy, too."

"That is one very astute snake," remarks Jean. She and I are leaning back against the counter, watching Potter with the snake.

"We haven't killed any of the snakes since the first few times we tried the potion on them," observes Ellen. "We didn't have the dosage established at that point and it was trial and error."

"It has not been an issue since," I add. "We have kept the four addicted snakes alive and have determined a maintenance dosage. It will help us to determine what we must do to keep the Dark Lord addicted and alive."

"We've learned a lot already," says Ellen. "For example, we know that their appetite drops off and we have to supplement their diet with worms that have been living in enriched soil and dipped in a vitamin and mineral solution before the snakes eat them."

"I wonder how many worms per day the Dark Lord will eat?" comments Jean with a straight face.

"As many as we can pour down his gullet," I reply, equally bland.

"Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna eat some worms," sings Jean, rather tunelessly.

That has everyone laughing.

"So we dip Pettigrew in that vitamin potion before we feed him to the runespoor," suggests Remus.

The laughter is louder.

"I'm only thinking of the runespoor's continued good health," he finishes. "Good nutrition is important and I can't help but think that Wormtail may not be the healthiest rat around. Bad lifestyle and all that."

"You are the soul of thoughtfulness," says Jean.

"I try."

"I'd like nothing better than to speculate about different nasty fates we could offer Pettigrew," says Potter. "But, I think we need to consider what the runespoor is saying. It is more intelligent than the other snakes and very self-aware. It wants no part of this experiment."

"I've never considered whether or not the concept of ethical treatment applies to a snake," says Ellen, shaking her head.

"Snakes are often raised to be harvested for potions ingredients. That includes runespoors," I explain. "Quintapeds are considered intelligent, yet we use some of their organs and blood in potions. Hair, blood, and even body parts of human beings are used as ingredients. Intelligence and self awareness apply to a number of species we use for potions and for eating. I am quite certain the pig is happy with its life before we turn it into chops."

"Pigs aside, human ingredients are only to be used on a voluntary basis," says Ellen. "Any potion that uses a human ingredient taken from an unwilling donor is Dark."

"I watched Pettigrew cut off his own hand to toss into the Blood, Flesh, and Bone potion that the Dark Lord used to reincarnate himself," Potter comments, wincing at the memory. "I'd consider that a Dark potion, even if Pettigrew volunteered to do it."

"I have my doubts that Pettigrew truly volunteered," I speculate. "He had no real choice. At that point, only Crouch and Pettigrew were attending the Dark Lord. Crouch was at Hogwarts impersonating Moody, so he was not a candidate to lose any more body parts. The pressure on Pettigrew to be The Volunteer was enormous."

"I doubt Riddle's father could be considered a willing donor," remarks Jean, crossing her arms across her chest. "I suspect the Dark Lord failed to consult with a necromancer before digging up dear old dad."

"This is all really interesting," says Potter, "but we need to make a decision. Do we try the weapon on the runespoor or not?"

"Do we have enough information to make an educated guess about the dosage necessary for the Dark Lord?" asks Jean.

"We have made an estimate, but it is a range," I explain. "We have to maintain a fine balance of the components. We must addict the Dark Lord in order to suppress his magic. At the same time, the dosage must not be too high because it will damage his body and kill his current shell. If that happens, he becomes Vapormort and disappears until he finds another body to inhabit. We will only disable him for a period of years until he can rise again."

"Vapormort?" laughs Potter. "Good description, Snape."

I tip my head in modest recognition of the accolade.

"We believe that we know the dosage that will kill his outer body," I continue. "We think we know the dosage that will result in addiction. What we need to learn is the dosage that will suppress his magic. Ellen and I believe that we can estimate this through experimentation on a runespoor.

"According to the readings I've taken off of this runespoor, it will be going into an egg forming and laying cycle within the next week. Even an infertile runespoor egg is valued because it can be used in potions that enhance mental acuity. The magical factors that make it possible for it to be a potion ingredient can be measured. We need to use the weapon on the runespoor so we can determine if the magical capacity of the snake is suppressed. If so, the egg will have none of the magical factors found in eggs of non-addicted runespoors."

"So there is a sound reason why we need to do this," says Potter, pensively.

"There is," says Ellen. "We can't be sure our weapon will work to suppress the Dark Lord's magic unless we do some sort of experiment where we can infer it. We don't have time to look for another way."

"I have to agree," comments Jean. "I'd rather we didn't have to do any animal experimentation, but we don't have a choice. It is only a question of which animals we will use. The Dark Lord is some sort of human and snake hybrid, so we need to use something reptilian. We're also on a deadline. Snape and Dumbledore believe something's going to happen between now and midsummer that will determine the outcome of the war. We're running out of time."

"I agree," calls Remus from his perch. "We have to move on this."

"Okay," says Potter. "I wish there was another way. I'm going to tell the snake that we promise to take care of her even if she is happy-sleepy. Do we all agree to that?"

"As long as I don't have to personally take care of her, I agree," says Remus.

I think I just snorted.

-------------------------  
Mid afternoon

According to Potter, the runespoor is slurring her hisses and talking like she is drunk. We have been monitoring her for almost three hours now. Her vital signs are acceptable. We are now waiting for the potion to wear off so we can determine if she has been addicted with the single six hour dose. Potter and Remus have gone upstairs to take a break.

"There is no trace of your ward clerk that we've been able to find," says Jean to Ellen.

"I still find it so hard to believe that she could have had any part in this," says Ellen, shaking her head in dismay. "Reggie has worked at St. Mungo's for over sixty years. She's a great grandmother, for heaven's sake. Great grandmothers don't suddenly start committing major crimes."

"Normally, they don't, but her connections among Dark Lord's sympathizers are extensive," replies Jean. "She's Rookwood's grandmother, cousins with the Mulcibers, sister-in-law to the Carrow's great grandfather, and two of her grandchildren are probably Death Eaters."

"That is how the Dark Lord's sleeper agents work," I explain. "She has probably been a sympathizer since the first war. She was not used for any purpose until the Dark Lord had need of her."

"She might be dead," speculates Jean. "Whichever of the Death Eaters was in charge of this mess felt free to do away with people who might complicate things. Personally, I doubt that she killed Powell or Spence. She may not even have known that was part of the plan. She was probably the one who was Polyjuiced to look like Spence so she could meet with Poppy and pilfer the fertility potions. She would certainly be in a position to know enough about him to pull off an imitation that only had to work for a few minutes. Plus, she knew St. Mungo's procedures and where things are kept."

"I can't bear to think of how she has thrown her life away," says Ellen. "She was so involved with her grandchildren and great grandchildren. She'd bring in photos of them and always had some of their hand drawn pictures on the notice board above her desk. She baked biscuits and would bring them in for the staff. She was talking about retiring in a few years and enjoying her pension."

"She's probably going to have to forgo her pension," says Jean. "Not that she'll need it in Azkaban."

I have been waiting for this opportunity to speak to Ellen and Jean alone. As long as Potter and Lupin are elsewhere, this may be the time.

Ellen has made tea and is pouring it into mugs. Jean takes one and hands me the other.

"I have something that I would like to give to each of you," I announce, fingering the two vials in the pocket of my robes. I take them out and look at them for a moment. I cannot help but admire the pure emerald color of the potion and consider what it represents. I have one in each hand and hold them up. "This potion is best received from the hand of one of the pair who creates it and works only for those who are held in affection by at least one of the pair."

I place the vials in their hands.

"What is this?" asks Jean.

Ellen is holding hers up against the light. A look of surprised awareness, followed by awe, crosses her face. She turns her head and looks at me.

"Is it possible that I am looking at a vial of the _Virgo Curato_?" she asks, astonished. "I've read descriptions of it and it is one of the few potions created by a pair and only works for those one of the creators cares about."

"Yes." I see no point in elaborating.

"Really?" says Jean, holding hers up to look at it. "You really created the Virgo Curato?"

"Along with my partner."

Both women are looking at me like they cannot believe it. Jean speaks first.

"You have a girlfriend…"

Ellen joins her and both say in a chorus.

"And you didn't tell me?"

They look at each other, stunned. Then, they both look at me accusingly.

I am at a loss for words. I should have told them about Hermione? This must be one of those things women agree on that men find incomprehensible. I cross my arms in front of my chest. This may look defensive, but I have no idea how to respond.

"You really don't know what to say, do you?" says Jean in an amused tone.

"We've got him speechless," comments Ellen, smiling. "Never thought I'd see that. We still want to know who the girlfriend is."

Jean taps her forefinger to her lower lip and I can guess at the thoughts running through her head.

"The requirements of the Virgo Curato call for one partner to be a virgin," she says, triumphantly. "We just happen to know of a maiden who recently stopped being a maiden in the hope that the Dark Lord would quit looking for a maiden brewer."

She comes closer to me and looks up with a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

"You sly Slytherin, you," she says, teasing. "It wasn't Bill Weasley, was it? It was you who snuck off with Hermione Granger and did the deed."

"There had to be more to it than just doing the deed to make a Virgo Curato potion of this color," says Ellen, holding up her vial. From her expression, I think she is looking for a way to be tactful. "This is emerald green, indicating that there is real feeling between the two of you. If there was only friendship or a little bit of affection, the color would be a light green."

"You had a real romance going on right underneath our noses, didn't you?" says Jean, accusing in an affectionate way.

"I do not believe noses were involved," I state. "For her safety and mine, we chose to keep everything quiet."

"Your safety from Arthur Weasley, I daresay," snorts Ellen. "When is the wedding?"

Jean gives her a quick swat on the arm to hush her and comes over and tucks her arm into mine.

"Pay her no mind, Severus," says Jean, confidentially. "She's a Ravenclaw. She can't help it."

"I take exception to that," declares Ellen, sidling over and taking my other arm. "I can keep a secret. We are known to be the souls of discretion."

"Tell me all about it," they say simultaneously.

I have the rare experience of being sandwiched between two attractive women who are doing their best to worm secrets out of me. They shall not succeed. I am, however, quite willing to let them continue their efforts for a while.

Perhaps, I could satisfy their curiosity in a minute way with no details, of course.

"Miss Granger and I formed an attachment while working together on a variety of projects for the Order," I explain. "I hold her in great respect."

"Of course, you do," says Jean, giving my arm an encouraging squeeze.

"It is a gesture of my respect for her that I encouraged her to become a maiden brewer," I add.

"You did?" says Ellen. "I don't know if you realize it, but with the fertility potions Hermione brewed, there will be a baby boom during the next year."

"I am pleased to hear that Hermione's potions were effective. I am less pleased at the thought that there will be even more urchins for me to teach eleven years from now," I reply with disdain.

"What about you and Hermione?" encourages Jean.

"She is Muggleborn," I reply. "I cannot openly court her. When the war is over, I will Claim her."

"Claiming?" says Ellen, her eyes wide. "That's very romantic."

I preen a bit. I am working on being romantic and have no objection if I have managed to impress Ellen and Jean.

"You leaped just a bit beyond Claiming, Severus," says Jean, sounding just a bit challenging.

"Necessity, given the Dark Lord's search for a maiden brewer," I reply. "We did our part to stop him from continuing to seek one."

"Well," says Jean, encouragingly, "you had to take a stand. You were doing your duty."

"You just happened to make the Virgo Curato in the process," says Ellen with a gleam in her eye.

"We chose not to waste the opportunity," I explain. "There is a war on and it may be needed."

"I can't wait to meet this girl," declares Jean.

"The rarest healing potion in the wizarding world," says Ellen, sounding as if she is proud of us.

"Severus," says Jean, smiling up at me with great affection. "Salazar would be so pleased."

I choose not to respond to such statements. Jean understands the implications regarding my sexual prowess because of her exposure to House legends. Ellen knows the lore about the Virgo Curato because of her knowledge of medicinal potions.

They are suitably impressed.

As well they should be.

I am a veritable Salazar Slytherin in the bedroom and they both know it.

I smile benevolently upon the world and my two friends in particular.

-------------------------  
Late afternoon

"You look well," I remark.

"Other than an inclination to feel chilled in a warm room, I feel remarkably well." Lucius stands straight and walks across the room without aid of his cane. "For public consumption, I will make a point of moving slowly and with the appearance of discomfort. At this stage in my recovery, I should still have hand tremors."

He holds out his hands to demonstrate that they are steady.

"I am indebted to you for administering your new treatment," says Lucius, his gratitude palpable in his voice.

"I am just relieved that it worked for you as well as it did for me," I reply. "Let us not speak of debts between us."

"Do not be concerned that anyone will learn of this treatment from me," he says. "I have placed it in my mental Gringott's vault inside a plain trinket box that will attract little attention."

"I had no concern of it," I assure Lucius. "Your skills in Occlumency have improved dramatically."

"Are we ready to go?" asks Narcissa. "I am anxious to see our son and this new business he has started."

She is dressed in very tasteful soft blue robes. They are not Muggle in appearance, but understated when compared to how she could have dressed. Lucius has done likewise, wearing a dark gray ensemble with a frock coat not terribly dissimilar from my own. I am garbed in my customary black. The manner of our dress should not be an issue, since we will Portkey to the transportation room at St. Germain Hall. Draco will meet us there and give us Portkeys to the new transportation room at his apartment building. We are unlikely to be seen by Muggles.

We are on our way.

--------------------------------

Narcissa has just thrown up all over her robes.

She is sitting on the floor of the transportation room at St. Germain Hall. Draco is crouching next to her, holding a glass of water he has just conjured. Lucius has already cast a cleaning charm to address the state of her robes. I cast a charm to remove the overwhelming stench and am fishing through the pocket of my outer robe, searching for a vial of Katchmer's Cantankerous Stomach Calming Potion. Let no man say I travel unprepared.

"This should help," I say, uncapping the vial and handing it to Draco to give to his mother. Narcissa gives me a grateful look and tosses it back. At least this potion does not taste bad, which could result in another round of nausea.

"Are you all right, Mother?" asks Draco, looking very worried.

"I will be fine," she says. "I am just terribly embarrassed. I had no idea Portkeying so far would make me sick."

"It has that effect on a lot of the students when they Portkey here from their home countries," says Draco, putting his arm around his mother and helping her to get to her feet. "Believe me, you are hardly the first person to sick up in this room."

Lucius reaches out and steadies his wife. "Perhaps Portkeying to your building is not the best option for your mother."

"I can Apparate there with Mother as side-along, if both of you don't mind Portkeying," offers Draco.

"That is a good idea," says Lucius, accepting the key ring that will serve as his Portkey. I accept mine as well.

"I'll go ahead of you," says Draco, his arm around his mother. She leans against him and they both disappear.

A minute later, Lucius departs. I follow shortly after that.

------------------------

We are sitting around the table Draco has set up in the corner of his living room. The room is not large and fitting in the table for four was not easy, even with Draco artificially enlarging the room for purposes of this visit.

I will not mention my personal speculation that Draco probably eats in his kitchen. Narcissa would be appalled, have the vapors, and probably require smelling salts.

The meal is very good. Draco has hired an elf to cook for the residents of the apartment building. Because there are only three tenants besides Draco, she had time to prepare a meal for us. The paltry remains of the Beef Wellington demonstrate that the three of us men ate with good appetite. I suspect that Narcissa refrained from eating much for fear of what will happen when we Portkey back to Malfoy Manor.

Draco's apartment is acceptable. Before the meal, Draco gave the three of us a tour of the building. It is modest compared to the luxury of Malfoy Manor, but it is suitable housing for financially comfortable students of Avalon College. Students of lesser means would be unable to afford it. I must be sure to check with Hermione about how she will manage financially now that she cannot brew the fertility potions. She should have been able to put away a good sized nest egg, unless she undercharged for her potions. I still have had no opportunity to discuss that with her.

Hermione has said in our paired journals that Molly, Arthur, and Bill will be visiting her apartment today to celebrate Mothers Day. We did not see her during our tour, which is just as well. While I trust my own ability to appear appropriately distant, I do not trust hers.

At least I am relieved that she is living in a pleasant environment. After lunch, Lucius and I will test the wards. I have not yet determined how I will hide the fact that there are wards to detect the presence of the Dark Mark, if Lucius decides to test for them.

My attention is brought back to the meal as the plates holding the remains of our dinner vanish and a strawberry trifle appears.

If Narcissa were not so determined to be proper, she would squeal with delight. It is apparent that it is one of her favorite puddings. We each enjoy a generous serving.

"As you saw during the tour, the apartments on the top two floors are ready for tenants," says Draco. "The rest will be finished by the middle of June. The common dining room, kitchen, and lobby will be completed by the end of this month. On July 1st, twelve of the apartments will be filled when students who plan to take summer classes move in. I have commitments for all of the others for autumn term."

"How will you manage this and your studies, now that you have added Arithmancy as a second major?" asks Narcissa, delicately scraping out the last bit of cream and strawberry out of her dish.

"The service-elf I hired to manage the building is very capable," says Draco. "He'll collect the rents and handle minor repairs. If something major breaks down, he'll bring in a trained repairman to do the work. Edgar knows that I need my time for studying. He'll only bring things to my attention that require special approvals. Everything else will go into a weekly report."

Edgar? That is the name of the elf who worked at the hotel and recruited the call girl for my night of recreational sex.

Merciful Merlin, please do not let Hermione find out.

The service-elf at the hotel had a wife. She was a chef.

"Is Edgar also managing the food service?" I inquire.

"No," replies Draco. "I hired his wife for that. She was a cook at the hotel they worked at."

I am doomed.

I can only hope that American service-elves hold to the notion of confidentiality regarding services that they were hired for. I did pay him well for securing the call girl and left a nice tip afterwards. I hope the bribe is sufficient, should he recognize me.

This is rather suspicious. The Schuler's service-elf just happens to have cousins who are available to work in Draco's apartment building. They just happen to be the same elves who prepared my dinner and arranged for special services during my only visit to Chicago. Has this all been set up?

"She did an acceptable job with our meal," declares Narcissa.

"I asked her to make your favorites," says Draco, warmly. "It is Mothers Day in America and I wanted it to be special." He rises and retrieves a small decorative box from a table in the living room. Draco sits down and presents it to Narcissa.

Lucius smiles approvingly. Narcissa looks delighted as she unties the ribbon and lifts the lid off of the box. She removes what looks to be a broach.

"This is lovely, son," she says, happily. Narcissa holds up the broach for us to see. It is a gold basket with different colors of gemstones to represent flowers. It is delicate, feminine, and selected by Draco. It is, therefore, guaranteed to please her.

Lucius reaches out to take the broach and examines it closely. He nods his approval.

"Severus and I would like to check the wards you had installed," says Lucius.

"Of course, Father," says Draco. "I would like to assist, if I may?"

"It will be good training for you," says Lucius.

I begin the sequence of tests by analyzing the wards that will detect invading Lethifolds.

It is twenty minutes later and Lucius is demonstrating an analysis charm that reveals the presence of silencing spells. Draco is carefully repeating the wand movements. Narcissa is hiding a bored yawn behind her hand.

Draco and Lucius look so very much alike as they stand together, heads bent over their wands.

Lucius' head jerks up at the same time mine does.

Our Dark Marks are burning.

Lucius collects himself and straightens up. Narcissa and Draco have realized something is wrong.

"We are being summoned," I announce.

"He said both of you could come today," says Narcissa, alarmed. "Why would he summon you now?"

"There may be an emergency that we are needed to address," replies Lucius, the image of calm. "We must make haste. Do you wish to return to the Manor with us or stay longer with Draco?"

"I will return with you," she says.

We quickly gather our things and prepare to exit to the transportation room on the ground floor of the apartment building. We are going down the stairs when we realize that others are coming up.

Hermione.

Hermione is leading the way with Bill, Molly, and Arthur right behind her. There is a ghost with a feather in her hair wearing an immodestly short skirt floating alongside them.

Draco moves over to the side to let them pass.

Hermione is looking at me, her expression appropriately surprised.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she says.

"Miss Granger," I reply coolly with an acknowledging nod.

"Mister Malfoy, Madam Malfoy," she says, in a polite greeting.

Lucius sneers. Narcissa simply nods.

Arthur's lips are in a tight strained line. Molly is hustling him up the stairs past Lucius, who is looking daggers at him. I move more quickly, hoping to avoid any further exchange of looks, glares, and hostile thoughts. The ghost, whom I believe to be the Resurrection Cindy Hermione has spoken of, floats close to the stairway, casting icy cold breezes into our paths. That motivates everyone to move faster, cutting off incipient hostilities.

One flight of stairs later and I can focus once more on the burning on my arm.

Narcissa is hugging Draco fiercely at the door of the transportation room. We will Portkey directly to Malfoy Manor and then use our marks to take us to the Dark Lord. It is too dangerous to try and use the Marks to achieve transoceanic travel.

I wish I could have stayed with Hermione. I am confident the evening would be far more pleasant than what awaits me.

--------------------------  
Evening

Lucius and I are on our knees before the Dark Lord. He holds his hand out so that Lucius may kiss his ring. Lucius raises a shaking hand to take the oddly jointed one so he might raise it to his lips. .

I do the same, except that my hand does not shake. My friend is playing his role of the recovering Cruciatus victim

"Rise, my sons," says the Dark Lord.

We are in a well-appointed room, but I have no idea where. The entrance to this place is a cave and we are somewhere inside a mountain. The Dark Lord is seated in a gilded chair resembling a throne. It suits his ego to present himself as a monarch. His red robes, edged in some sort of dark hued fur, represent the same thing. His hairless head, missing nose, and flaky gray skin ruin the effect.

Pettigrew is at his side and Rutherford stands at the door. Bellatrix is seated on a pillow near the Dark Lord's feet. Nagini is curled up on the carpet beside her, resting her head on her coils.

What a lovely portrait of domestic bliss.

"Pettigrew," says the Dark Lord, "summon more chairs. Rutherford, we are in need of wine. Perhaps some of that fine vintage you served us the other evening?"

There is much bowing and scraping as chairs are procured, wine uncorked, and glasses distributed. Bellatrix takes a chair, abandoning the pillow. Nagini remains where she is.

The Dark Lord sets aside his wine glass and steeples his fingers. Red eyes peer at me above them.

"Severus," he begins. "Peter tells me that you have information related to my search for the Order's maiden brewer."

"I know of her identity," I reply, calmly.

"Tell me," orders the Dark Lord.

"I would like to show you, Master."

"Look at me," he orders.

I raise my head and meet those red eyes.

"_Legilimens,"_ he hisses.

I bring forth the memory of the scene staged in the Headmaster's office and replay it. Riddle sees it all, ending at the point where I leave the office.

"Granger," he murmurs, looking away. "Potter's friend."

"Allow me to retrieve her for you," offers Bellatrix, doing her best to look winsome. It is no easy task when her hair looks like rats have been nesting in it. Perhaps that is where Wormtail sleeps. "I will supervise her so that she will brew whatever you require."

"It is no longer possible," laughs the Dark Lord, mirthlessly. "She gave up her virginity to Severus' colleague, one of the Weasleys."

"Master, permit me bring her to you for punishment," she croons. There is an eager light in her mad eyes.

"You cannot my dear," says the Dark Lord, gently. "She is at Avalon College in the United States. You would not blend in and might be apprehended. It is too dangerous. I rely on you too much to allow you to risk yourself so."

Bella stretches in a practiced way to emphasize her breasts. She is pleased that the Dark Lord considers her in such a manner.

"Then let my sweet little nephew drag the mudblood bitch here," says Bella, using her sickening baby talk voice.

A brief look of alarm passes over Lucius' face as he listens to his sister-in-law's offer.

"May I offer an opinion, Master?" requests Lucius.

"Of course, my son," says the Dark Lord graciously.

"I take it that this despoiled maiden brewer is the mudblood who attends Avalon College and lives in my son's apartment building where she can be watched," says Lucius, looking as if he finds the whole subject distasteful.

"She is," says the Dark Lord.

"If she is already spoiled for purposes of maiden brewing," he says, one eyebrow raised, "requiring Draco to deliver her over will not gain us whatever potion you wish her to brew. While her punishment may be enjoyable to deliver," he says with a sly look, "and I would be most willing to participate, there would be a cost to Draco. He is well-established in his relationship with Daniel Schuler's daughter. The man is enormously powerful and worth billions. He appears to view Draco as potential son-in-law material. If we take the mudblood while she is in the United States, Draco will inevitably fall under suspicion."

"If I may?" says Pettigrew, his clawlike fingernails scratching his sparse beard.

The Dark Lord nods.

"My brother, Lucius, is correct," he says in his sniveling voice. "Young Malfoy will be a suspect in her disappearance. That would certainly interfere with his relationship with the Schuler chit. It is to our political and financial advantage to encourage this match. All we need do is wait until the girl returns to Britain to take her. I'd enjoy partaking in a bit of mudblood myself.

Rutherford laughs and Bellatrix cackles. Lucius and I join in their laughter, albeit in a more restrained manner.

"There is good reason why I have brought all of you into my inner circle," pontificates the Dark Lord. "Your counsel has merit. Granger can be acquired easily enough when she returns to Britain. Let the order be given that she is to be seized at the first opportunity, but only here. She is to be left alone while she is in the United States.

"However," he continues, "this brings me to the question of why Severus did not know of her identity as the Order's maiden brewer. From the memory you showed me, Dumbledore clearly withheld this information from you." His voice is deceptively calm. I am at risk of his punishment.

"May I approach you, my Lord?" Now is the time where I must risk all. Albus and I have discussed this and I must ingratiate myself. I must hold the Dark Lord's trust.

"By all means," states the Dark Lord, like a beneficent prince.

I rise and come before him. I drop to my knees in the manner of a penitent.

"I have served you within the halls of your greatest enemy," I begin, allowing emotional strain into my voice. "I have humbled myself to Dumbledore and allowed him to command me and restrain my hand time and time again. All of this has been in your service. He knows of the power you hold as a Legilimens. He will not risk telling me the most important secrets of the Order for fear you will learn them through me.

"In this manner," I continue, "he has given me misinformation or withheld information entirely. I have listened and observed within the Order. I have brought you what information I could, gleaned from what I have overheard or witnessed. I would like to think this has value, but there are things he will not allow me to know. I will never know where Potter lives that we might strike him down unawares. Just as with this information about Granger and her role as the Order's maiden brewer, this is withheld from me. Dumbledore knows you must punish me for my failure and yet knowingly continues to use me in this way.

"I ask for a boon, Master." I make my voice beguiling. "There are others who bask daily in the warmth of your service. Permit me to be among them. Allow me to come openly to your side as my brothers Peter, Rabastan, Rudolphus, and Antonin have done. Permit it to be as my honored sister Bella has done."

Bellatrix offers a superior, if rather insane smile and postures provocatively at my recognition of her role.

"Let me strike a blow for our cause. Permit me to take down Dumbledore and openly declare myself for you. I can do this in whatever manner you choose. There are hundreds of poisons I can brew. I could slay him in his office or in broad daylight in front of his school,"

I work myself into a fine froth of passion for this mission.

"I live to serve, my Lord," I cry out. "Give me your leave to end my double role. Let me kill Dumbledore for you and take my place by your side. Let all men know where my loyalties truly lie."

I fall silent and await his response. This had better work in the manner that Albus and I predicted or I am in deep shit.

Voldemort reclines on his throne-like chair. He is lost in thought as he considers my proposal. My knees grow sore, kneeling on the stone floor.

"My son," he intones. "Your passion for our cause does you credit and I am pleased by your offer." He raises a finger of warning. "There are events at hand that you know nothing about. I have placed you in a difficult position, my most trusted spy. You live in the halls that my enemy controls. You took a place in his Order of the Phoenix at my direction. You live the difficult double life I set you to over twenty years ago. Within the limitations placed by Dumbledore's unwillingness to give you free access to intelligence about the Order, you have managed to serve me and our cause.

"You ask now to be freed of service to your second master."

The Dark Lord waves his hand, expansively.

"You would join me and your brethren in open rebellion against the Ministry, committed to the downfall of their corruption of our way of life. You would serve at my hand as we all seek True Power together." The Dark Lord sighs. "I am pleased by your offer, but fear it cannot be so at this time."

I am relieved his has declined my offer. Albus and I thought he would, but wished to play this loyalty card.

From his languorous position on the throne, the Dark Lord snaps upright and rises. He pulls himself very tall and strives to appear immensely powerful.

"I need you at Hogwarts, Severus," he declares. "I have never needed you there more than I do now and will need in the future. The time has come to make my plans clear."

The Dark Lord turns to Bellatrix.

"My dear," he says softly, "I do believe it is time for you to go and take up your station as I have instructed."

Bella rises from her chair and bows low.

"I do so immediately," she says obediently. She departs, moving with cat-like grace as she slinks across the room.

"Edmund and Peter, you may leave the room," orders the Dark Lord.

Both men bow and follow Bellatrix. Pettigrew gives me a snide look as he leaves. I wonder if Wormtail knows what the Dark Lord has in mind.

Lucius and I are alone with the Dark Lord. Lucius is holding himself in stiff self-control. I do not believe either of us has any idea of what he has planned. The Dark Lord waves his hand to summon Lucius.

"Come and kneel beside your brother," he instructs.

Lucius complies. His robes rustle as he drops to his knees beside me.

"Look at me, Lucius," whispers the Dark Lord.

Lucius opens his eyes wide. I can only hope and pray that his Occlumency will hold and keep the Dark Lord out of the secret places in his mind.

Minutes pass. I dare not turn to look at Lucius. I can only see out of the corner of my eye as he kneels beside me. There is sweat beading on his high forehead and his body is starting to sway. This is a long and deep probe.

Voldemort withdraws.

Lucius collapses to the floor, exhausted by the probe. I do not dare to help him. Catching his breath, he looks up at the Dark Lord.

The slit that passes for a mouth turns upwards into a parody of a smile.

Lucius' mental shields held. The Dark Lord did not find his way into the mental Gringott's vault that holds Lucius' secrets.

"Rise, Lucius," bids the Dark Lord, his voice velvet. "Rise, my beloved son." He holds out his hands for Lucius to take.

This has never happened before. Never have I seen the Dark Lord offer a hand to one of his subjects. Lucius reaches out carefully and places his hands in Voldemort's. The skeletal hands enclose around his and draw him up.

With a wave of his hand, the Dark Lord summons two of the chairs so they are close before his throne.

"Rise, Severus," he instructs. "Come and join us." He gestures that Lucius and I should sit before him. We are both wary as we take our seats.

Lord Voldemort addresses Lucius.

"I have tested you many times this year, my son," says the Dark Lord. "I have tested you time and time again in the crucible of faith and loyalty. You have passed each of my tests and returned to me each time with your love and commitment intact. Your commitment to our cause is second to none and your faith in me as your Lord is proven daily.

"I have punished you most cruelly for your failings, but a father has an obligation to see that his sons understand his expectations. That your love has not faltered and your loyalty has not wavered tells me that you are true to our cause. I may rely on you as I have relied on no one before."

In a human face, Voldemort's expression might be called affection. His reptilian features soften and he tilts his head and smiles. The effect is both eerie and monstrous.

"I will raise you up, Lucius," he says softly. "You shall hold power among the Death Eaters to a degree that I have never before allowed. You shall be my second and my voice in all things. Even young Barty Crouch and Peter Pettigrew have never imagined or aspired to that which I shall offer you."

Uncertain, Lucius is keeping his features carefully schooled in respectful neutrality.

"Master," replies Lucius, "I am grateful to you for all you have given me. If you have found me worthy of greater responsibility within the Death Eaters, I shall endeavor to fulfill your expectations and repay your trust.

Voldemort laughs, a high pitched noise that grates like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"I have left you utterly confused," chuckles Voldemort in his odd voice. "I shall explain." The Dark Lord shifts in his chair and summons the three wine glasses filled with red liquid, floating elegantly into our hands.

We each sip from the glasses, just as the Dark Lord expects.

Voldemort is watching Lucius closely and smiles again.

"Dear Lucius," says the Dark Lord, "You have been with me as a most loyal follower for twenty-five years. I hold you in a special place in my heart." He pauses and looks intently at Lucius. "There is a saying that the boy shall become father to the man. This shall be especially true for you in years to come."

Voldemort waves his long skeletal hand down the length of his equally skeletal body, hidden beneath the red robes.

"This shell I created for myself through the Bone, Flesh, and Blood spell is inadequate for the tasks I ask of it. It cannot properly contain my magic or meet my needs," he sighs. "Nor can it be repaired to enable it to function as I need. My spirit and my magic are mighty my son. I cannot long make due with this inadequate shell. This is the reason I have summoned you."

What in all the hells is he getting at?

Voldemort continues, his voice hypnotic.

"I raise you up, Lucius," he whispers seductively. "I raise you, Narcissa, and Draco to honor and power never held by a single family in wizarding history. You and Narcissa shall create my new body. I shall be born again, this time into your family. As your new son is born, I shall shed this shell like the worn out skin of my basilisk.

"My mind, my magic, and my soul shall transfer into your child. I shall indeed be your son and you shall be my father."

I am stunned and hide my true reaction behind the wall of Occlumency. I school my features into a look of astonishment and awe. I hope for his own sake that Lucius is able to do the same.

"My full consciousness and magical potential shall live within your child," continues the Dark Lord. "In the years we must wait while my new body matures, you shall have governance over the Death Eaters. You shall be my regent and the voice of my will in all things. You shall continue building our organization and influence during the years I must remain in the background. I shall guide you in this journey. My body may be that of a wizarding child, but my mind shall contain all the Dark knowledge and power it always has."

He turns to me, his red eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

"Severus, you shall stand as my godfather," he states. "In the years to come, I must live out the years of childhood with the mind of an adult. You protection will serve me, especially when the years come that I will attend Hogwarts once again.

"In the fallow years, Dumbledore will grow complacent with my disappearance and take his retirement. When that happens, you shall move up. McGonagall will be Headmistress and you shall be Deputy Headmaster. You will have made her your mistress long before and be the true power at Hogwarts. Whether or not she is alive when I arrive at Hogwarts will be up to you. If she is under your thumb, you may choose to spare her and leave her as your puppet. Otherwise, you shall be Headmaster."

Voldemort smiles as if he is offering me a treasure. I school my features to look pleased.

"How we shall enjoy that time, Severus," he says, confidentially. "We shall have all of the resources of Hogwarts at our disposal, including the private collection of books and artifacts available only at the whims of the Headmaster. I will open the Chamber of Secrets once again. We shall study the Dark Arts together so we might rediscover knowledge forgotten long ago."

He stands and places his hand on my head, as if offering a blessing. I dearly hope that he cannot see into my mind through his fingertips. My feelings of revulsion for his proposal would get me killed.

"Is it not enthralling to think of it, my son?"

"It is, my Lord," I reply enthusiastically. "You offer me something I could only dream of."

In a nightmare. In my worst nightmare.

"In his retirement, you may have the pleasure of aiding Dumbledore onto the next realm of existence with one of your undetectable poisons. My greatest enemy will be out of my way."

The Dark lord turns his attention to Lucius.

"When I attain my majority, I shall reclaim my place among my followers. You and I shall embark on our conquest to a degree never seen before. We shall take Britain, Lucius. We shall have Europe, the Americas, and ultimately the world shall kneel before us. The Malfoy family shall be a royal family and establish a dynasty to reign over a world of wizarding princes and Muggle slaves."

The Dark Lord laughs again, gloating. His red eyes sparkle with glee.

"Would you like Europe to bow before you as the Viceroy of the Emperor?" he chortles. "Shall I give the United States to my brother, Draco, to be Viceroy there?"

Voldemort takes his seat again and leans forward.

"Imagine the power, Lucius," he hisses. "Imagine wealth, power, and respect as never known before by any wizarding family. There shall be none more powerful than you, save myself. I offer you the world."

"Master," replies Lucius carefully. "The ambition and scope of such a plan overwhelms my mind. I cannot even begin to process the implications in my poor brain."

"I shall be there every step of the way, my son," assures the Dark Lord, brimming with confidence and enthusiasm. "I shall guide you into the future, the future we two shall create for the wizarding world."

"As for you, Severus," he says, turning his red eyes to me. "You are a scholar at heart. We shall reinvent the Department of Mysteries and it will be yours to command. All mysteries shall be yours to explore and nothing shall be forbidden to you. Light, Dark and all shades in between, all forms of magic shall be yours for the taking. The best of what you learn shall be brought to me."

"You honor me with your vision, master." I permit myself to look rapturous at the thought. The truth is that he would make the Department of Mysteries a source of new and more powerful weapons to use in his conquests. I dearly hope Lucius understands this and is not tempted by the power he offers.

"What say you, Lucius?" asks the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," replies Lucius, regretfully. "I live to serve you in all ways, but in all the years of our marriage, Narcissa and I have only been able to produce one child."

"This has been addressed," says Voldemort reassuringly. "It was my hope to find a suitable maiden to brew the fertility potion needed for this. The women Rutherford took for me were unable to do what I needed. Although your attempt to kidnap Madam Pomfrey failed, an associate managed to pilfer ten bottles of Granger's maiden brewed fertility potion. This will ensure conception of a male child at the time of my choosing."

"You have worked all of this out, Master?" asks Lucius.

"I have," replies the Dark Lord. "I have researched, planned, and prepared for this most carefully." He sits in his chair as regally as possible for a skeletally thin reptilian humanoid. "This is what must take place. At the summer solstice, Narcissa shall take the potion to prepare for conception. That evening, you and I shall join with her. Your seed shall pass into her through the birth channel to join with her egg. As you do this, my seed shall pass into her from behind as we take her together.

"I will perform the necessary ritual to ensure that the child conceived that night shall be bonded to my essence through the presence of my seed in her body. In nine months, when Narcissa labors to bring forth your new son, I shall be there. At the proper moment, I shall leave this shell behind and transfer my consciousness, mind, soul, and magic into my new body.

"You and Narcissa shall have the privilege of caring for your new son in the manner of parents. We shall love each other as family is meant to do. I will be beautiful, as you and Narcissa are beautiful. My body shall be healthy, as you and Narcissa are healthy. I shall have the protection of my family and you shall have mine.

"I chose to interrupt your Mothers Day celebration, because I wanted the value of family to be fresh in both of your minds when I brought you to me. Just think," he chortles, "one year from now we shall celebrate Mothers Day again. We shall be a family; my parents, brother, and godfather gathered together to celebrate the joy of such a day."

The Dark Lord pauses and takes a deep breath.

"There are protections that must be put in place. On the eve of the summer solstice, I shall give a special version of the Dark Mark to Narcissa and Draco. This is a sign of my love for my new family. They shall be bonded to me in a unique way that will protect both them and me. I will be able to sense if they are endangered and be able to bring them to me instantaneously at my will. Harm to me will be harm to them, to discourage such thoughts.

"Have no doubt, Lucius. My magic will be undiminished for all that I may be an infant or child. I will cherish my new family and the bonds between us shall grow."

Lucius is looking away, thinking. There is only one possible response to this plan. Only one way we will both walk out of here alive.

Lucius rises from his chair, just enough to drop to his hands and knees. With a show of humility, he crawls to the Dark Lord's feet and kisses the hem of his robes. His head is bowed and Voldemort places his clawlike hand on the back of Lucius' head in a caress.

"Look at me, my son," murmurs Voldemort. "Look at me, my father. Will you serve me?"

"I live to serve you," answers Lucius, earnestly. "My family lives to serve you. You honor us beyond anything we deserve. You bless us with your trust to give us this responsibility. I welcome you into the love of our family. I give my wife's body to the cause of creating your new body. I give my seed to the conception. I give my son's protection to his new brother. I rejoice in the future we shall share."

The Dark Lord places his hands on both sides of Lucius' face. The reptilian head lowers and the lipless mouth places a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"You have my blessing," whispers the Dark Lord, "as you shall have my love."

The Dark Lord releases Lucius and bids both of us rise.

"Lucius," he instructs, "You shall return to your Manor and bide your time until the solstice under the protection of your brothers. I will risk no harm to you. Word shall be given about that you were injured today when you and Severus were practicing your dueling. It will explain why you remain sequestered in your own home.

"When you return," the Dark Lord continues, "you will find that Bellatrix is already there. She and some of the women who fight for our cause will see to Narcissa's safety. The protection of my soon-to-be parents is of the highest priority. Draco should be safe enough where he is. Our enemies have taken no interest in him since he took up his duties in the United States.

"You may explain what we have discussed to Narcissa in private. Rutherford and Pettigrew are the only ones who know my plans, other than you and Severus. I wish it to remain that way. Your other guards will follow my will without needing to know why they are stationed at your home.

"Severus," says the Dark Lord, "I wish you to stand as sponsor to Draco when he joins the Death Eaters. You have my permission to travel to Chicago as needed to prepare him for the ceremony. Simply notify me when you plan to make your trips."

"I am honored to serve as Draco's sponsor," I reply, with a bow. "He is as dear to me as a nephew could be. It brings me great joy to be the one to guide him to the Path of True Power."

The Dark Lord gives an affirmative nod and summons Pettigrew and Rutherford back into the room.

"Edmund," he says, "You will accompany Lucius to his home and personally oversee his security. I wish him to be carefully guarded."

Rutherford bows, the very image of a respectful servant of the Dark Lord. Pettigrew takes his place at the Dark Lord's right hand.

Lucius steps forward and kneels, kissing the Dark Lord's ring. When he rises, I do the same.

"You are dismissed," says the Dark Lord. "Go with my blessings."

Rutherford moves to Lucius side and we all retreat from the room. There is no opportunity to talk privately as we exit the cave and walk beyond the anti-Apparition wards.

Lucius and Rutherford vanish to Malfoy Manor.

I will return to Hogwarts and summon the inner circle of the Order. There must be an emergency meeting. The events outlined by Tom Riddle are as evil and abominable as any I can imagine. They must be stopped, no matter the price.

I take a deep breath and disappear.

-------------------------  
Author's notes:

Only imaginary snakes have been harmed in the writing of this story.

When I started writing _Looking for Magic_, Chapter 83 was drafted early on. I knew this is where I wanted to go and built the story around it. Some of the readers have e-mailed me or reviewed and offered their ideas of why Voldemort wanted a maiden brewer, but no one suggested that he wanted to replace his own body. I have foreshadowed this and I am very curious to know if any of you figured it out. You couldn't have guessed that he would choose Lucius and Narcissa to be his parents. I gave no clues for that. If you guessed that he wanted a replacement body, I'd love to hear from you.

Halloween is over and I am returning to a normal schedule. I will be responding to all of the reviews for this chapter. Thank you all for your patience: MollysSister, Rinny08, Wynnleaf, Lady-Daine, Periwinkle, Oscarxena, Darque Hart, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Sunsethill, Instar, Lipasnape, Kimjo, Amsev, Lindie578, Snakegirl-sprockett, Droxy, Christa White, T-wrecks, Lilsnape, Summonfire, Notwritten, Sweety-Pie5445, Laurenke1, Mugglemomof3, o0morgana0o, Yapyap, Klschmidt, Ebbe04, Latinachikita, Yasmin, Princessfiona, Duj, Maddie50, Keske, Koliber, Squeaker19450, Jade2099, Excessivelyperky, Squiggles.Candi, Lady Javert, Pickles87, MysticSong1978, Evilmastermind666, Erytha, xx Zenon xx, Liveforthedream, Trulyamused, and Victorya71.


	84. Chapter 84

I don't own this, but I surely do enjoy it.

Thank you to all of the readers who offered feedback about Chapter 83. It was my hope that Voldemort's plot to create a new body for himself would come as a shock to the readers. From the e-mails and reviews, I think it did. The concept of Babymort seems to have captured the imaginations of the readers.

Thank you to Julia for her input into this chapter and the whole story.

---------------------------  
Severus  
May 9th, 1999

---------------------------  
Paired Journal Correspondence  
Severus to Draco

Draco,

I have no time to explain. Stay in Chicago. Stay in your apartment building. Do not come to Britain, even if you receive a summons from your parents or the Dark Lord. Watch your back.

I will communicate with you as quickly as I am able.

Severus

---------------------  
Paired Journal Correspondence  
Lucius to Severus

Severus,

You and I both know that what the Dark Lord proposes is a crime against magic and nature. I plead with you and the Order to prevent this horrifying ritual from taking place. I have explained the Dark Lord's plan to Narcissa. Bellatrix was watching and listening. We had to act as though we thought it is the highest of honors.

You know otherwise, brother of my heart.

Bella claims that the Dark Lord has promised her a new body in a few years, that she might attain immortality such as his and prepare the way for others of us who will follow him. It is a lie. The Dark Lord will never share this knowledge or allow others to become what he is. When he obtains his legal majority, he will kill his new "family" in order to seize control of the Malfoy name, influence, and assets.

Narcissa and I have spoken before about the price we might have to pay for protecting Draco from the Dark Lord. We have known all along that it might cost us our lives. If that is what it takes to prevent the Dark Lord from marking Draco and forcing us to conceive this abomination, we will pay that price.

Next, I will write to Draco and tell him to trust your instructions and stay in the United States. Do not allow him to take the Dark Mark.

Pudding will destroy this journal upon my completion of this missive. I am in the bathroom writing this and will have no other opportunity to use it. Communicate with us through Pudding. He is still able to leave the Manor.

Our lives are in the Order's hands.

Lucius

---------------------------------  
Paired Journal Correspondence  
Lucius to Draco

My dearest son,

Events have taken a turn that I could not have anticipated. Even as I write this, your mother and I are under Death Eater guard in our own home. It does not mean that the Dark Lord is angry with us. It means he has plans for your mother and I that we will resist to the best of our abilities.

I have little time to explain. I am in the bathroom and had Pudding bring this journal and a Never-Out Quill and hide them in the towels. My guard will only be away for a few minutes. Bellatrix is watching your mother.

On the eve of the summer solstice on June 21st, the Dark Lord plans for you to take the Dark Mark. I have little time to explain, but I am confident that Severus will be in touch with you shortly. He is to be your sponsor. Do not take the Mark under any circumstances.

You may trust Severus implicitly and I ask that you do as he says. He will do whatever it takes to protect you.

You must not return to England. Even if you hear from me or your mother, you must stay out of England. Seek out Daniel Schuler and ask him for his protection. Only if Severus says it is safe to return, should you do so. Even then, be certain that he has not being controlled by Imperio.

Your mother and I want you to know that you have our love. The day you were born was the most joyous day of our life together. We are so proud of you and all of your accomplishments. You have been a good son and more than worthy of the name Malfoy. We love you and you will always be foremost in our thoughts no matter what may come.

Your mother and I have agreed that we will only endanger you if our paired journals are found. Pudding will take them away and destroy them. We will write to you as we are allowed, but be aware that our letters will be censored. Do not take every thing we write to heart or at face value.

Trust Severus. Your mother and I will rely on his good judgment to keep you safe.

Love,  
Father

--------------------------------  
Paired Jounal Entry  
Draco to Severus

Severus,

I received your message and will comply.

I have just received the most alarming communication through my father's journal. He reports that he and my mother are prisoners at Malfoy Manor. He does not say what has happened, but says you know why. He reports that the Dark Lord intends that I receive the Dark Mark at the summer solstice and you are to be my sponsor. I am to trust you and follow your instructions, but stay out of England. He is going to have Pudding destroy his and mother's journals.

What is going on? Please contact me immediately. I am sick with worry over this.

Draco

--------------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
Severus to Draco

Draco,

I have only a minute and am on my way to meet with people who can help with your parents' situation. Your father has instructed you wisely. You must not come to England under any circumstances, unless I tell you differently.

I will contact you through this journal as quickly as I can after the meeting. Do not trust any other form of mail you receive from me or your parents. It may be tampered with or written in ways intended to get by censorship.

Your parents are safe for the moment,

Severus

---------------------------  
Severus  
Evening

I have sent Patronus messages to the members of the inner circle of the Order, requesting an emergency meeting as quickly as they can travel to headquarters. Albus is ignoring Poppy's orders to stay at home, but has invited her to come with him. The wards on the fireplace in the Headmaster's office have been lowered and Remus has been authorized to lower the block on the fireplace at Headquarters to allow us to floo there directly.

Albus passes through, followed by Minerva. Poppy has gone to get her medical kit and will join us. Bill is arranging for Filius and Pomona to watch over the school while we are gone.

I am tired enough that I stumble out of the floo and am caught by Remus, who offers a steadying hand. The chairs have been moved away from the fireplace so that we can all come through. Looking around the room, I see that Shacklebolt and Sommersby have already arrived. I spot Moody sitting in the corner, taking a swig from his flask.

Arthur Weasley comes into the parlor through the kitchen. Jean Lamb is following after him. They must have Apparated from the Ministry.

There are moments when I deeply appreciate the caliber of many of the people who are members of the Order. This is one of them.

Potter comes up from the cellar where he has been tending to the snakes. I take back what I thought moments earlier about the caliber of the Order members I will be dealing with. While I appreciate his ability to communicate with the snakes, he still annoys me.

There is a scramble for chairs. Minerva helps with some speedy transfiguration. The others are seated and I begin my explanation.

"I will attempt to make this brief." Looking around the room, I see that I have the attention of all those present. "I have just come from a meeting with the Dark Lord. He revealed the reason that he has sought a maiden brewer for the last year. He wanted her to brew the fertility potion that guarantees the conception of a male child."

"Whatever would he want an heir for?" questions Shacklebolt. "I would think his quest for immortality would preclude a wish for an heir. It implies he might die and need one."

"He does not want an heir," I reply. "He believes that this is the means to replace his defective body with a new one."

There is a moment of silence as all contemplate this piece of news.

"Possession has always been one of Riddle's gifts," says Albus, ominously. "Are you saying that he intends to breed a new body and then possess it?"

"Exactly," I reply, grimly.

That starts a buzz of hushed conversation among those present, all of it in varying tones of dismay.

"The Dark Lord has selected Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy to be the parents. He is in possession of the fertility potions stolen from St. Mungo's when the Death Eaters failed in their attempt to kidnap Poppy. He will guarantee that they conceive a male child."

"Do they want to do this?" asks Jean. "The Lucius Malfoy I know is ambitious to the extreme, but this seems very unlike Narcissa."

"Lucius has communicated with me through our paired journals," I reply. "He wants no part of this and calls it a crime against nature and magic. I daresay the Dark Lord selected them so that he can have the Malfoy name, social position, wealth, and a reasonable assurance of good looks."

"Except for the good looks, Tom Riddle was seriously lacking in all of the rest," says Albus, pensively. "He lived in a Muggle orphanage as a child and returned there during the summers while attending Hogwarts. I suspect the lure of having a real family, a prestigious name, and wealth would be a powerful one for Tom, assuming he was in the situation of needing to go through childhood again."

"What about the soul that inhabits the child's body?" asks Potter, looking deeply troubled. "Will he share space with it in the way he did with Quirrell or when he attempted to possess me? I was totally aware of what he was doing while he was using my body." Potter grimaces at the memory. "It would be horrible for a child to be a conscious prisoner in a body being used by the Dark Lord. It was awful enough for me and I was fifteen. I can't imagine what it would be like for a baby. Could he drive the soul out altogether?"

This is a surprising bit of insight from Potter. I had not considered this. I look at Albus and Sommersby for any indication that they might know. Both men shake their heads. This falls outside of any esoteric knowledge they might have. Jean and Remus look equally mystified.

"I do not know what will happen to the soul that would normally be intended to inhabit the body," I reply. "The Dark Lord plans to perform a ritual on the eve of the summer solstice to ensure that the fetus is bonded to him. He claimed that when the child is born, his immortal form will leave his body and enter the infant. Perhaps the ritual will keep any soul but his from taking up residence in the child."

"Did he give any details about the ritual?" asks Moody.

"The Dark Lord said very little of it except that it requires that he and Lucius take Narcissa at the same time through different orifices," I reply.

"I'd like to think I'm well-versed in the Dark Arts and I've never heard of such a ritual," says Jean, looking revolted by the whole idea.

"I'd like to think I've forgotten more about the Dark Arts than you've ever known, missy," snorts Moody, still annoyed with Jean from the other day when she threatened to hex him. "This is a new one even on me. It figures he'd come up with something perverted."

"Riddle has traveled all over Europe, Asia, and the Middle East exploring forms of Dark magic we know little or nothing about," dismisses Sommersby with a shrug. "We could hunt for information about this ritual for the next ten years and learn nothing."

"I agree," says Minerva. "More important is the question of whether or not the Malfoys will be forced to cooperate with the Dark Lord's plan."

"Immediately after the Dark Lord told Lucius and me of his plan, Lucius was taken to Malfoy Manor where he and Narcissa are under guard. The Dark Lord gave them no option of refusal," I state emphatically. "Shortly after I sent out the message Patroni to all of you, Malfoy communicated with me through our paired journals. I cannot emphasize strongly enough that Lucius and Narcissa want no part of this."

I turn and look questioningly at Albus. Not everyone in this room knows that Lucius has been spying for the Order since December. Albus nods, realizing my question. He raises his hand to gain the attention of the others.

"Not all of you are aware of this," says Albus, stroking his beard, "but Lucius Malfoy has allied himself with the Order for the last five months. I probed him thoroughly before I accepted the veracity of his pledge. Since then, he has provided the Order with useful intelligence about Death Eater activities. He has aided Severus by taking him to safety after the Dark Lord's punishment. Most recently, he spared Poppy and me during the Death Eater raid at St. Mungo's. We were able to escape because Malfoy delayed setting up the wards that would have prevented me from reaching Poppy in time. Malfoy is not a member of the Order, but I consider him an ally and a useful spy."

Potter is practically doing contortions in his seat. It is obvious from his expression that he does not believe that Lucius Malfoy is on our side.

"Professor Dumbledore," he starts, "I know how strong your skills as a Legilimens are, but how can that override the history of Malfoy's actions over the last twenty years? We know he set Riddle's diary loose on Ginny which resulted in the basilisk being released into the school. Then there's the raid on the Department of Mysteries where he and his buddies lured us in and almost killed my friends. It was only rescue by the Order that saved our hides."

"There are any number of Order members who have brought up those same issues," replies Albus, calmly. "When Professor Snape approached us with the idea of recruiting Malfoy, he had already laid the groundwork for the defection to our side. I met with Malfoy personally so I could discuss it with him. Since I accepted Malfoy's pledge to spy on our behalf, he has provided us with information that has proved useful."

Potter is back to squirming and Arthur places a hand on his arm to signal him to settle down.

"Has the Dark Lord recalled Draco Malfoy?" asks Arthur. "He could be used as a hostage to gain his parents' compliance with the Dark Lord's orders."

"At this moment in time," I reply, "the Dark Lord has not summoned Draco. I am unaware of any Death Eaters that may have been sent to retrieve him from the United States. In his missive to me, Lucius reports that he has written to Draco, telling him to stay out of England and to follow my instructions. He begs the Order's help to prevent this from happening. As always, his priority is Draco's safety. That is the primary reason Lucius and Narcissa agreed to send Draco to Avalon College in the first place.

"I truly do not know what the Dark Lord has in mind for Draco at this immediate time," I continue. "He stated that he will give both Draco and Narcissa Dark Marks on the evening of the solstice. Lucius made it very clear that he and Narcissa are willing to trade their lives for Draco's safety, if that is what is required.

"The Dark Lord has a special Dark Mark in mind for Draco and Narcissa," I add. "He claims their Marks will be connected to him in a manner that is different from the other Marks. He stated that he would be able to sense if either of them are in danger and bring them to him instantly. This was his way of telling Lucius and I that he could call them to him instantly, even against their will."

"Another way of keeping them as hostages," offers Jean.

"Precisely," I remark. "The Dark Lord has claimed that harm to him would be harm to them. If anyone attempts to kill the Dark Lord while he is an infant or child, equal harm would come to Narcissa and Draco. This guarantees that Lucius will guard the child with his own life and will resist any personal temptation to eliminate the Dark Lord while he is vulnerable."

"He's really thought this through," says Bill. "If it gets as far as conceiving the child, the Dark Lord will have all kinds of protections in place to ensure that the child is born and makes it through childhood."

"Why did he reveal this to you?" asks Sommersby, eyeing me closely. "Who else among the Death Eaters knows of this plan?"

"Bellatrix, Rutherford, and Pettigrew know," I reply. "In Lucius' message, he said that Bellatrix has been promised a new body. This is not surprising since she aspires to be the Dark Lord's consort and would do anything to pursue that goal."

"What does her husband think about that?" asks Arthur, his eyebrows somewhere near what used to be his hairline.

"It does not matter what he thinks," I explain. "If Rudolphus attempts to restrain Bellatrix from anything she wishes to do, she will kill him." I wonder if Arthur lives under similar constraints. Molly can be quite fierce when she wants to be.

"Sounds to me like they have a marriage that works," says Moody with a snort.

Jean rolls her eyes.

"I would still like to know why the Dark Lord told you, Snape," says Sommersby, impatiently.

Now it is my turn to snort.

"The Dark Lord has plans for my future," I reply. "I am to be his _godfather_."

"Way to go, Snape!" hollers Potter across the room, laughing and slapping his hand on his leg. "You're definitely moving up in the world if you get to be godfather to Tom Riddle Malfoy."

Potter's remarks are met with dead silence and glares. Remus gives Potter a look, which silences him most effectively and leaves him looking sheepish.

I suppose I should not stand here and enjoy Potter's embarrassment overmuch. I am pleased that the others showed their support for me, but must be careful not to appear grateful, since I am actually above it all. I settle for a sneer and return to my explanation.

"The Dark Lord will disappear when he assumes his new identity. Believing that the Dark Lord is gone, Albus is supposed to retire. Minerva is to move up to Headmistress and I shall be her deputy. The Dark Lord claims that he will retain his full knowledge of Dark Magic and the same potential for power when he moves into his new body. I am to protect him and explore Dark magic with him when he comes to Hogwarts."

"It isn't possible for him to have his full knowledge or powers when he is an infant or toddler," declares Poppy. "Infants think in visual images and tactile memories, not in words. The capacity to understand and use language depends on the development of the brain. Even if he has his memories of how to perform magic, he will be unable to perform the necessary wand movements or even the nonverbal incantations until his brain and body are ready for it. There are good reasons why full magical education doesn't begin until the age of eleven. The body is simply not sufficiently evolved to manage it."

"It makes sense that the Dark Lord has built in extra protections for himself as an infant and toddler with the special Dark Mark for Narcissa and Draco Malfoy," says Jean, pensively. "Lucius Malfoy will be highly motivated to keep the child alive, no matter what it takes to do it."

"To say nothing of the fact that this will be Lucius Malfoy's son," says Arthur, looking meaningfully at Bill. "No matter whose soul is contained in that body, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are going to love that child after he is born."

"I fear that is likely to be the case," I add. "Lucius and Narcissa love Draco to distraction. They wanted more children, but did not have the good fortune of a larger family. Arthur is right. They will come to love this child."

"Were they unable to conceive or was Narcissa unable to carry a child to term?" asks Minerva.

"I do not know about any miscarriages," I reply, wracking my memory. "It does not mean that there were none. Lucius made reference to having been unable to conceive any children after Draco."

"Just how effective is this maiden-brewed fertility potion?" asks Sommersby.

"Extraordinarily effective," says Poppy. "As long as the woman is still ovulating, the potion enhances the overall health of the eggs, compels the ovulation, and magically draws sperm carrying the appropriate genetic material to penetrate the egg. In the months that the fertility potion has been available, 100 of the women who have used it have become pregnant. Thus far, there has been one miscarriage to a woman who has a long history of miscarriages. We are months away from any of the children being born, so I can't speak to the overall health of the infants. Historical data has shown that children conceived through use of this particular fertility potion are generally very healthy."

"So, the odds are very good that if Narcissa Malfoy uses the fertility potion, she will become pregnant and give birth to a very healthy future Dark Lord," says Jean, biting her lip.

The room falls silent for a moment. Minerva breaks the silence.

"This is horrifying," she says, her lips pursed. "I will confess that there is no love lost between the Malfoys and myself, but I am appalled on their behalf. No woman should be used in the way the dark Lord intends to use her."

"Whatever Lucius may be," I reply, "Narcissa has chosen to be a very traditional wife and mother. Knowing her as I do, she is devastated at the thought of being forced to accommodate the Dark Lord and bear a child which will be turned into an abomination. At the same time, she must pretend to be honored by the privilege the Dark Lord has bestowed up on her."

"How can we use this?" interrupts Sommersby, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

Apparently, the look on my face has betrayed my reaction to Chester's statement.

"Chester, please," says Albus, reprovingly.

"No, Albus," says Jean, waving her hand dismissively. "This isn't disrespect towards Narcissa Malfoy, it's an opportunity. For the first time ever, we actually know who the Dark Lord will be with on a particular date. If we know where they will be, we can stage our attack."

"The only question will be how we can accomplish it before the Dark Lord climbs into bed with the Malfoys," adds Sommersby. "We must not allow this conception to take place."

A certain tension releases from my body. Although no vote has been taken, I now believe that the Order will work to protect the Malfoys while taking on the Dark Lord.

"I believe we can all agree on that point," says Albus. "Above and beyond the terrible impact it would have on the Malfoys, it would allow Riddle to have a human body ready and waiting for his future possession. Even if we capture and imprison him using the weapon the Order is developing, he could escape or his shell could die and he would take possession of the body, if it is magically linked to him."

"By that time it happens," adds Arthur, "the body will already be inhabited by an innocent child. I've wondered on more than one occasion if Riddle would have taken possession of Ginny's body if she were a boy, rather than try to rematerialize his old one."

That speculation silences all of us as we consider the implications. I can see Bill looking at his father across the room. Their eyes meet and I can tell that they have both considered this possibility. Potter looks equally disturbed by the thought.

I have decided that this must become a strategy session. We will not leave this room without a plan.

"We know that the Dark Lord will conduct the ritual on the summer solstice," I state, "This will be June 21st, a Monday evening."

"The moon will be just past the first quarter," says Remus.

"You have the moon phase calendar in your head?" asks Bill.

"If you were me, you would too," replies Remus, easily.

Minerva looks at me hesitantly. "I have an idea of how we might be able to get Riddle to commit to a particular location for the impregnation. It would require some acting skill on Narcissa Malfoy's part."

"Please elaborate," I ask.

"There is an old ritual that some witches choose to follow when they are trying to conceive a child," explains Minerva. "During her fertile time, the witch will go through a purification ritual, such as a special bath, fasting for the day by consuming only the juices of sacred fruits, and participating in meditation and prayers.

"The purpose is to conceive a healthy child by seeking the blessings of the highest power," says Minerva, fingering the triple moon pendent she is wearing. "An important part of the ritual is blessing the marriage bed the night conception is to be attempted. If Madam Malfoy requested the Dark Lord join her and her husband in their marriage bed in order to gain the most auspicious start for the child, do you think he would accommodate her?"

I consider this for a moment.

"It may work," I speculate. "The Dark Lord is enamored with the trappings of rituals. If approached in the right way by a humble woman seeking the favor of her Lord, he might be persuaded."

"That would require his presence at Malfoy manor on the eve of June 21st," observes Moody.

"If it is presented to the Dark Lord as a way of bringing his new family together and uniting them in his cause, it would bring Draco Malfoy to the Manor on June 21st," says Remus. "The Dark Lord wants Draco initiated as a Death Eater. The initiation ceremony is outdoors, isn't it, Severus?"

"Excellent suggestion," I reply. "Initiation rituals are always outdoors, after sunset, and require a bonfire. If it is held at Malfoy Manor, we would know exactly where to go by locating the bonfire." I hesitate for a moment. "It would point exactly where you would find us. Lucius and I would be required to be present at the initiation. I am the Dark Lord's choice to serve as sponsor."

"If that is the case," says Sommersby, "We should be prepared to launch an attack while the initiation ritual is being conducted. We can capture Voldemort before the initiation ritual is completed. He will never make it as far as getting into bed with the Malfoys."

"The weapon is not ready," says Remus. "We tested it today to make sure it is addictive to the runespoor, which appears to be the case. We have to make sure it suppresses the snake's magic, which we won't know for a week or two until it lays an egg."

"Perhaps you could give us an update on where things stand with the weapon?" asks Shacklebolt.

"This is where we stand at this moment," I begin. "We have determined that the combination of the Swedish short snout dragon fire bladder extract and the crack cocaine are best delivered in a combination of smoke and mist that are both inhaled and absorbed through the skin. We believe we have a good working estimate on the dosage necessary to addict the Dark Lord without killing his outer shell.

"The next question to be answered is whether or not it will suppress the Dark Lord's magic. We will not know that for approximately ten days to two weeks."

"That could be as long as May 24th," says Jean. "That gives us less than a month until the ritual."

"Assuming that all goes well and the weapon works," says Arthur, "how will you use it on the Dark Lord?"

"We have not developed a method for delivering it," I acknowledge. "I fully believe that we will find that the weapon will suppress magic. I have no idea how to get the Dark Lord to inhale it."

The room is silent once more as the Order members ruminate on this bit of information.

Chester Sommersby's high pitched voice cuts through the silence.

"The Death Eater initiation ritual is outdoors, at night, with a bonfire?" he questions.

"Yes," I affirm.

Sommersby is deep in thought, his fingers steepled before his face and his eyes in a faraway place.

"I have an idea of how we might conduct the attack."

Pause.

"I wonder if we could develop the means…"

Pause.

"Severus," inquires Sommersby, "has the Dark Lord ever set up defenses against an aerial assault?"

"Aerial assault/" I ask. "By fliers mounted on brooms?"

"Exactly."

"I cannot recall any occasion where he mentioned such a thing," I reply, wracking my brain to try and remember. "The Dark Lord always sets up his own wards in addition to any that may already to present. The secrecy of the location is usually the primary step in securing a meeting of the circle."

Sommersby continues.

"I recall that many years ago during the Muggle First World War, one of my Muggle relatives was an aeroplane pilot. He flew a two-seater Farman biplane in the Royal Flying Corps." Sommersby leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his chest as he loses himself in recollection. "I recall my great nephew relating how he flew the aeroplane while his partner in the back seat used a machine gun and dropped bombs on the enemy.

"Could the weapon be packaged in a way that would allow it to be delivered like a bomb from a flyer on a broom?" he asks, looking at me.

"The weapon must be inhaled," I muse. "If it were dropped like a bomb, it would affect everyone who inhales it. We cannot deal with forty or fifty addicted Death Eaters. We want only the Dark Lord."

"Wait," says Potter, practically jumping out of his seat with excitement. "We don't want a bomb. We want water balloons. Instead of one big bomb, we go after him with the magical equivalent of water balloons filled with our potion. We use dozens of fliers, not one."

"Yes," says Chester, slapping his hand on the arm of his chair to emphasize his point. "That is exactly what we need. An aerial bombardment by a few dozen fliers, all aimed at Riddle. Pelt the bastard with them like they were rotten tomatoes!"

I interrupt this enthusiastic outburst. "We would have to develop a delivery system that allows the potion to be thrown and have the container break. This would have to initiate a shielding charm that will contain the mist and smoke so that it does not disperse in the air. If Riddle is hit, the container breaks, a shield is thrown up, and the mist and smoke concentrate around him so he is forced to inhale it."

"Perfect," says Sommersby, nodding at me with an enormous smile, revealing teeth in far worse shape than mine.

The room is filled with the sound of enthusiastic conversation. Bill, Jean and Potter are discussing the kind of flying that would be needed to pull it off. All are excellent flyers from their Quidditch days at Hogwarts. Shacklebolt has joined in and claims this would be an excellent reason to buy the new broom in the front window of Quality Quidditch Supplies that he has been coveting.

We seem to have reached a natural spot for a break. Minerva and Remus are opening up the cupboard and bringing out bottles containing beverages much stronger than tea. Albus, Sommersby, and Poppy have retreated to the kitchen. Moving around everyone else, I go to join them.

Albus is sniffing the contents of the tea canister. Poppy reaches over and takes it from his hand and offers him a box of chamomile instead. It is just as well, since the English Breakfast tea he was sniffing has a good deal of caffeine in it.

Sommersby is checking the bottomless kettle and is renewing the heating charm.

Tea making being well managed, I sit alongside Albus who has taken a seat at the kitchen table.

"This still leaves us with the question of what to do about Draco Malfoy," I point out.

"It does, indeed," says Albus, pensively. "Have you had any contact with him?"

"I wrote to him through our paired journals," I reply. "I told him to stay put and that I would get back to him tonight."

"We should certainly see to his safety," observes Sommersby, teapot in hand. "He could be seized as a hostage to see to his parents' compliance with the Dark Lord's plans."

"When I am back at Hogwarts, I will contact Daniel Schuler through our paired journals," says Albus. "The apartment building is already being monitored for Hermione's safety. Perhaps those protections could be extended to young Malfoy."

"Very good," I reply. Sommersby takes his tea and returns to the living room. Poppy takes the seat beside me.

"How are you feeling?" I inquire.

"Much better," says Albus. He pats my arm reassuringly

"Your blood pressure is still too high," interrupts Poppy. "I will need you to brew a different potion for him, Severus."

"Certainly," I reply. "However, if there is an underlying cause in need of remedy, there is an alternative."

Reaching into the pocket of my robes, I withdraw two vials. I hold one over Albus' hand. He turns his hand over and opens his palm. I gently lay the emerald green potion in his hand. Repeating the action, I do the same with Poppy.

Albus holds the vial up to the lamp on the table and peers at it over his half moon eyeglasses.

"I do not believe I ever anticipated holding this particular potion in my hand," he murmurs, as he turns to look at me. "The emerald green color, combined with the clearness of the solution, and your indication that it has healing properties leads me to wonder if this is a vial of the Virgo Curato?"

"It is," I reply.

Poppy looks down at her vial in wonder.

Albus reaches over and places his hand over mine briefly and then pulls it away.

"That it comes to me from your hand means a great deal to me, Severus. Like many gifts, it is most valued for the affection that comes with it." He is looking at me searchingly. "I hope you can forgive me for attempting to meddle with your relationship with Hermione. I truly did not know that you and she had formed an attachment when I manipulated her into appearing to be courted by Bill. If I ever had any question about the degree of that attachment, it is answered by the deep emerald green of this potion."

With that statement, I have what I want. Albus has acknowledged my relationship with Hermione in a manner that implies he will cease and desist any further meddling.

"During our role-play when I said that I looked forward to offering congratulations to her in the future on her betrothal to one of my finest staff, I did have you in mind," says Albus, nodding beatifically in my direction. Poppy smiles at me and puts her hand on Albus' arm approvingly. "Poppy had already told me about your relationship and Minerva briefed me about your assignation here at headquarters."

Before I can answer, Shacklebolt sticks his head in the doorway.

"We're ready to get started," he says, departing as quickly as he came.

"We should return to the parlor," says Poppy, patting Albus. She looks at me warmly. "Thank you for this wonderful gift. Albus is doing much better overall and I think we'll save these vials."

I nod in reply. The three of us rejoin the meeting.

Minerva hands me a glass of firewhisky as I take my seat. Albus reaches for one and is stopped by a very severe look from Poppy. He sits down with a much put-upon sigh and Poppy hands him his chamomile tea.

Sommersby is standing by the fireplace, taking charge of the meeting.

"I believe we have a strategy to work towards," he says in his high pitched voice. "It will now fall on the Weapons Committee to develop a way to deliver the magic suppressant to the Dark Lord on the evening of June 21st."

"I suggest adding Fred and George to the Weapons Committee on a permanent basis," says Arthur. "I think they've shown plenty of creativity in coming up with ways to package their own products. They may have ideas that could be used."

"I agree," adds Bill. "My brothers have shown that they take their responsibilities in the Order seriously."

"Done," I state. "We will organize a meeting to be held within the next twenty-four hours."

There are nods all around. Sommersby holds up his teacup in a silent toast.

"This still leaves us with an issue about how we are going to communicate with the Malfoys," says Arthur. "If they have destroyed their paired journals, how can we let them know that we are willing to help them? Severus isn't going to be able to talk freely with them if Death Eater guards are going to be present at all times."

Potter raises his hand. "I have an idea," he says, his green eyes meeting mine from across the room.

I believe on this very rare occasion, we may actually be thinking about the same possibility. I nod in return.

"Dobby was a Malfoy house-elf," says Potter. "I wonder if it would be possible for him to get inside the Manor and communicate with the Malfoys?"

"The guards would pay little mind to the house-elves," I reply, "except that Bellatrix might recognize him. However, if he could get past the wards, he could speak to one of the Malfoy house-elves and pass on messages that way. There is one in particular who is exceptionally loyal and trustworthy."

"The question is whether or not Dobby would be willing to do this," says Potter. "Malfoy went out of his way to mistreat him, knowing that Dobby really wanted his freedom."

"I fear that Lucius is not known as a kind master by his house-elves, except for one who is very attached to Lucius," I reply. "This particular elf served Lucius' grandfather, father, and now serves Lucius with complete loyalty. This is not an issue with Narcissa, who is much kinder in her management of the house-elves than Lucius."

"Maybe Dobby could be persuaded to help Narcissa?" suggests Potter. "Dobby has been an excellent house-elf here at headquarters and is loyal to our cause. Maybe if he was offered membership in the Order, he'd be willing to take the risk of going back to the Manor with messages."

"Offering Order membership to a house-elf?" comments Arthur. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"I must say that Dobby is an exceptional elf," says Remus. "However, I think it should be noted that he is very attached to Harry and works hard to please Harry more than anything else."

"That isn't always the case," protests Potter. "Dobby wasn't trying to please me when he kept me and Ron from getting through platform nine and three quarters at the beginning of my second year at Hogwarts. He overheard some talk at Malfoy Manor that made him think that Lucius Malfoy was trying to harm me. He wanted to keep me away from Hogwarts, where the danger was."

"He was trying to protect you," comments Albus, "and showed a good deal of independent action in the process."

"As I recall," says Minerva, sniffing, "it almost resulted in your expulsion when you and Ronald Weasley decided to use a magically tampered with Muggle motor vehicle to fly your way to Hogwarts." Minerva looks disapprovingly at Arthur.

Arthur is doing his best to look very, very innocent. All he needs to do is start whistling to go along with twiddling his thumbs. Bill is grinning behind his hand at his father's discomfiture."

"It may be worth a try, if Dobby will agree to follow orders and be very careful about not taking independent action," I comment. "Dobby is familiar with Malfoy Manor. Even if he cannot get past the wards since he is no longer a Malfoy elf, he would know where to hide in order to be detected by the other elves. A request to talk to the particular elf in question would probably be honored, even if the other elves believe that Dobby is a renegade for wanting freedom."

"Maybe we could have a talk with Dobby to find out if he is willing to do it?" asks Potter.

"We could do that after the meeting is over," suggests Remus. "This large crowd would probably be overwhelming for him."

"If this doesn't work," says Jean, "are there any ghosts at Malfoy Manor that we could recruit? I have a very pleasant ghost of a washerwoman at home who would probably be willing to call on the ghosts of the Manor and wouldn't be recognizable as a Hogwarts' ghost. She actually does laundry and is not a harbinger of death at all. I inherited her from my grandmother."

"That's what I call a helpful house ghost," says Bill, teasing Jean.

"The Manor has two ghosts," I reply. "One died of mistreatment at the hands of a Malfoy ancestor and is unlikely to cooperate with any requests. He is best known for rattling chains and hurling verbal abuse at the master of the house whenever he can get out of the dungeons. The other is a rather listless White Lady who haunts the grounds, mourning for a lost lover. She is rather self-absorbed and it is difficult to get her attention."

"Shall we try Dobby first?" asks Remus. "At least, he is a known quantity and has been reliable ever since he was freed."

There appears to be a consensus.

-------------------------------

The rest of the Order members have left, leaving Potter, Lupin, Dumbledore, and myself. Potter called for Dobby to appear, which he did in an instant. The elf is garbed in one of his usual mismatched costumes. I fear the paisley shirt and the plaid trousers may very well cause my eyes to bleed.

Since the summons, Dobby has been plying each of us with known favorites. Albus has a dish of bread pudding anointed with what may be a rum sauce. Poppy would most certainly not approve, if she knew. Potter has a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Remus has a slice of sponge cake smothered in strawberries and whipped cream. I have a generous helping of a dark chocolate torte with mocha filling.

This is one elf with a gift for puddings that could make the angels swoon, if one can judge by the almost sexual moans of gustatory pleasure issuing from the others.

I am far too sophisticated to indulge in such unseemly noises. However, I plan to inquire which brand of expresso was used in the recipe. The Hogwarts house-elves would benefit from that knowledge.

Meanwhile, Potter is encouraging Dobby to sit in one of the vacant chairs in the parlor. That alone should be a warning to the elf to run as fast as his scrawny legs will take him.

"Dobby will sit," says the house-elf, his red cowboy hat tipped jauntily to one side. He looks anxiously between Albus and Potter, looking for some clue as to why he is suddenly the center of attention.

Potter leans forward and tugs on Dobby's paisley shirt sleeve.

"This fits you a lot better since you shrunk it down," he says in a very complimentary tone.

I have been given to understand that Potter visits Muggle second-hand and charity shops to purchase 1970's vintage clothing for his favorite elf. It is good to know that clothing that has gone unloved since the BeeGees were popular now has a good home.

Dobby squirms with delight. This is very similar to how Potter was squirming earlier this evening. Perhaps they are influencing each other's habits.

I cough discretely, which brings Potter's attention back to the matter at hand.

"We have a favor to ask of you," says Albus.

"Dobby is always happy to do favors for The Great Albus Dumbledore," he replies eagerly, with an ear twitch and a wink.

God help us all. What has living with Lupin, Weasley, and Potter done to this elf?

"It is an important favor to do for the Order," clarifies Albus, modestly.

"Dobby is always happy to do favors for the Order," announces Dobby, wide-eyed, gazing at Albus worshipfully.

"What we are going to tell you is a secret and must be kept strictly confidential," says Albus.

"Dobby is a good elf and keeps Order's secrets anyway," squeaks the elf. "Dobby is proud to be official house-elf for Order."

Albus looks meaningfully at Potter. Potter takes the hint.

"This is a big favor, Dobby," says Potter meaningfully. "There is a wizard who has been spying for the Order and is in big trouble."

Dobby looks at me with his wrinkled brow scrunched into even deeper furrows.

"Is Professor Potions Master in big trouble and Dobby can help?"

I refrain from sneering for the greater good.

"No, Dobby," says Potter, emphatically. "Professor Snape may be in big trouble, but that isn't what we're here to talk about."

"Five hundred points from Gryffindor," I mutter under my breath, receiving the kind of glares from the three Gryffindors sitting around me that could land one in a body bag.

Dobby looks appalled.

"Do not be concerned," says Albus, reassuringly. "Professors cannot take House points because of the actions of someone who has already completed their Hogwarts' education."

Potter smirks at me triumphantly.

Just wait, you little heathen. Your day will come and my vengeance will be swift and terrible.

As soon as I figure out what that vengeance should be.

Perhaps undergarments that will turn a rosy shade of pink the next time Potter disrobes in the men's locker room in the MLE's office at the Ministry? With the right charm, they could be labeled with the day of the week in flashing colors. I shall have to do a bit of Charms research at my earliest opportunity.

Dobby looks rather confused by the verbal byplay going on around him.

"Please ignore them, Dobby," says Remus. "This situation has to do with a family you know."

"The favor we need to ask of you has to do with the Malfoys," says Albus, gently.

Dobby fingers twitch with unexpressed elf magic. He gives an agitated shimmy in his seat and his cowboy hat goes further askew, dangling from his right ear.

"Malfoy is a bad master," hisses the elf. "Dobby is glad to have clothes from The Great Harry Potter so Dobby is a _free elf_." He twists his features into an angry grimace. "Won't do favor for Malfoy," he proclaims, crossing his arms across his chest.

"It is more of a favor for Narcissa Malfoy than for Lucius," I add hurriedly. "It has been a great big Order secret that Lucius Malfoy is a spy for us."

"Master Lucius is a spy for Order?" asks Dobby, mouth agape. "But, Lucius Malfoy is EVIL."

"He's not entirely evil," hacks out Potter, apparently around a large frog in his throat.

"Narcissa has never been evil," I say coaxingly. "She is a fair mistress to her house-elves, is she not?"

Dobby looks confused. He pushes the cowboy hat off of his ear and it dangles down his back by the string. He scratches what passes for his hair.

"Madam Malfoy is fair mistress," says Dobby, looking thoughtful. "Lucius Malfoy is as evil as Cruella DeVille. He might kill puppies, too."

Remus and Albus are looking at me as if I know something about Lucius killing puppies. I shake my head, totally mystified. I do not doubt that Lucius might kill Muggles, but he _likes _puppies. I have never known Lucius Malfoy to be cruel to a puppy. I doubt he would be willing to kill one unless under the direct orders of the Dark Lord.

"Did Lucius Malfoy kill puppies when you were his house-elf?" asks Potter, astonished and disgusted.

"Noooooo," says Dobby, shaking his head. "Like Cruella DeVille from the spotty dogs book."

"Ohhhhh," says Potter, to whom the whole business suddenly seems clear. "He's talking about a character from a book I bought him called _101 Dalmatians_. Cruella DeVille wanted to kill the Dalmatian puppies in the story and make a coat out of them. It's a children's book. I've been helping Dobby improve his reading."

"Killing puppies is part of a children's book?" asks Remus, looking like he is about to become ill.

"Nooooooo," repeats Dobby, waving his hands. "She wanted to kill puppies. Puppies got rescued. Finished story last night," exclaims Dobby, proudly.

"Thank heavens," Remus sighs, greatly relieved that no puppies were killed in the storybook.

I suppose he might take the thought of killing puppies personally. I know that I am utterly appalled that any author would think that threatening to kill puppies is a suitable topic for a children's book. It is rather disgusting for an adult book.

We are talking about puppies, here. If we were discussing killing rats to make a coat for a storybook character, I should be all in favor of it. If Wormtail is mentioned specifically, I would buy a copy of the book.

"The Great Harry Potter says Cruella would make a great do-min-A-tricks," comments Dobby. "What is do-min-A-tricks?"

Albus, Remus, and I stare at Potter, who blushes and drops his head.

"I am very proud of you for learning how to read," proclaims Albus, looking sternly at Potter over his half moon glasses, "and I will discuss that particular word with you and Mr. Potter in private later on.

Dobby straightens up and puffs out his chest like he has just been offered the Order of Merlin.

"One never knows what skills might be needed when on a mission for the Order," declares Albus. "Reading may be very helpful."

"A _mission_?" says Dobby in wonderment. "A mission for the _Order_?"

"An important mission," I emphasize. "You are the only one who can do it."

"The _only_ one?" says Dobby, his eyes lit up like a third year on his first Hogsmeade visit to Honeydukes.

"That's right," says Potter, solemnly. "You are the only one who can do this. We need you to help the Malfoys spy for the Order by carrying messages to Malfoy Manor and bringing back messages in return."

"It will help Madam Malfoy a great deal," assures Albus. "Lucius Malfoy is a spy for the Order, but that is a very big secret."

"Dobby not a Malfoy elf anymore," says Dobby, scratching his head again. "Dobby can't get through wards unless Pudding says so."

"I have a secret message from the Malfoys," I say in hushed but urgent tones. "Pudding can still leave the Manor. He will be looking for a way for us to get messages to him to give to Madam Malfoy."

"All you have to do is go to a place that you know the elves would find you that won't set off the wards," says Potter. "When they find you, ask for Pudding. The two of you will need to talk and set up arrangements for how to pass messages. Can you do this?"

"Dobby can do this," he declares, determined.

"You'll need to wear a disguise," I add. With a bit of wand work, my handkerchief has now become a Malfoy tea towel. I hold it out to the elf, who looks on it with distaste.

"You can shrink a pair of my underpants and wear them underneath," suggests Potter. "That way, you are still wearing clothes and no one will see. You can blend in with the Malfoy house elves, even though you'll be a free elf and a courier for the Order."

"Courier," says Dobby in a breathy voice.

"It is for the Order," says Albus, in his most pontifical voice.

"For the Order," repeats Dobby, sounding like a brainwashed cult member.

Dobby leaps to his feet, punches the air with his fist and shouts, "Dobby will do it!"

"Give me five!" yells Potter.

Dobby and Potter slap hands together in a manner that must mean something. Perhaps it is a secret handshake used among the brotherhood of those who share their undergarments. It is a club to which I shall never belong. Well, perhaps I would consider sharing with Hermione under the proper circumstances. That would involve her wearing my undergarments, not the other way around.

"In that case," says Albus, sounding very official, "I need you to carry a message to Pudding to give to Madam Malfoy in private. Please tell them that the Order has received their message and is working on a plan to help them."

"Order is working on a plan to help Malfoys," says Dobby, sounding very determined. He walks to each of us and offers a handshake. Each of us accepts with great solemnity. Potter, Remus, and Albus are talking to Dobby about Apparating to the grounds of Malfoy Manor and where he will go from there.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Dobby will do his best to reach Pudding with our promise of help.

All I have to do is find a way to wrap a shield like a water balloon around a smoke/mist potion that will get the Dark Lord high and take away his magic by June 21st.

The lengths to which I am willing to go to save the wizarding world.

----------------------------  
Author's notes

The washerwoman ghost referred to in this chapter is not the classic European washerwoman who is typically like a banshee and serves as a harbinger of death. This washerwoman is based on a ghost story from the regional area where I live.

Since the 1800's, the story has circulated that a ghostly laundress has shown up in homes in the area and done their laundry. At the time the story was started, laundry was done by hand. The story continued right into the 1900's and had her using washing machines and dryers. There haven't been any reports of her since the 1960's. Perhaps the machines just got too complicated for her to operate and she found a better gig elsewhere.

No puppies, imaginary or otherwise, were harmed or killed in the writing of this story. Lucius Malfoy and I both like puppies. He's not all bad, that Lucius Malfoy.

Thank you to all my reviewers. Your reviews made my day! Victorya71, Angie S, Keske, Septentrion, T wrecks, Yasmin, Arsinoe De Blassenville, Jade 2099, Wynnleaf, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Excessivelyperky, SpSt, Lipasnape, Not so Chicken Little, Droxy, Notplainjane, Oscarxena, Teri, Miroku75, Sunsethill, Maddie50, Koliber, Mugglemomof3, Darque Hart, Rinny08, Instar, Laurenke1, o0morgana0o, Lyndie578, Summonfire, Yapyap, Klschmidt, MollysSister, Perwinkle27, Bubblemilktea, Trulyamused, Andi-scribbles, Arime Setta, Jocemum, Gwennish, Karen Detroit, Phytonesse, Princessfiona, Notwritten, Nirtak.Enaile, Broken2nite, MagicDaisy, KarlaMarie, Jaccalax, Duj, Janet Evans, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Evil-Mastermind666, Danielle, MysticSong1978, Mistaria, Jax'09, Squiggles.Candie, Medicdaddy, Sweety-Pie5445, KimJo, Ebbe04, Latinachikita, Epitaph, Giggleginny, Kristine Thorne, Erytha, Squeaker19450, Kirien, Vivian B, Lilyginny27, hpfanwenday, Malfoy's Kitten, Tiggy of the Wind, Mennie, Quiet-mg, Ami Mizuno1, and ToroNoKo123.


	85. Chapter 85

I really, really don't own this. Wish I did.

As always, many thanks to Julia for her input into this chapter.

Did you know that Katyes has translated seventy chapters of Looking for Magic into German? It boggles my mind.

------------------------------------  
May 10th, 1999  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Draco

Draco,

I have just returned from a meeting with people who are willing to work towards aiding your parents.

_I'm here, Severus. First, are my parents all right?_

Rest assured that they are unharmed. The Dark Lord is not punishing them. He is protecting them from any possible harm, but also ensuring their compliance with his wishes.

_What does he want from them?_

This is not easy to explain. I would prefer to tell you in person, but it would create too many problems if I traveled to Chicago to tell you.

The Dark Lord wants them to have another child.

_He wants Mother and Father to have a baby?_

He has special plans for the infant. The Dark Lord has revealed that his body, created from an ancient spell using primitive magic, is not adequate for his needs. He has instructed your parents to have another child, using a special fertility potion that will guarantee the birth of a male child. When the infant is born, he will abandon his body and move into the new one. The infant is supposed to have all of the Dark Lord's knowledge and magic.

Draco. It has been two minutes since I wrote the last paragraph. Please respond.

Draco?

Draco?

_IS THE DARK LORD FUCKING INSANE COMING UP WITH THIS TOTALLY BATSHIT IDEA? HE'S GOING TO FORCE MY PARENTS TO HAVE ANOTHER CHILD SO HE CAN TAKE OVER ITS BODY AND BECOME MY SICK TWISTED PSYCHO BABY BROTHER? _

I hope you are not shouting this aloud.

_OF COURSE NOT. I'M NOT A FRICKIN IDIOT. I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE THIS SHIT. HE'S GOING TO USE MY PARENTS THIS WAY? THAT SNAKE FACED, RED-EYED SON OF A SCALE ROTTED BASILISK AND A SYPHYLITIC HAG? _

I am pleased that you do not feel you need to keep your true feelings a secret from me. Take some deep breaths and calm down. I said that there are people willing to help.

_WELL, THEY'D BETTER START HELPING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I CAN'T BELIEVE MY MOTHER AND FATHER WANT ANY PART OF THIS. _

I will tell you more when you have calmed down.

_OKAY._

_Okay._

_I think I'm past the caps lock of rage._

I beg your pardon?

_That's an Internet term. Writing all in capital letters is like shouting in someone's face. I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm upset at the situation, not at you._

I am relieved to hear it.

_Who is going to help and what are they going to do?_

It is best if I do not tell you. I am asking you to trust me.

_Father said I should trust you and you know that I do. You are asking a lot of me not to demand answers. I love you like an uncle, but we are discussing Mum and Dad's safety._

I realize I am trading a lot on your trust, but your Occlumency is not strong enough to keep the Dark Lord out if he uses a deep probe. That is one of the reasons you absolutely must not come back to England, unless I tell you to. You will simply place both of us and them in danger.

_Father said I must not come home. Since you and he agree on that, I will comply._

_I can't stand this, Severus. What am I supposed to do?_

I have it on good authority that Daniel Schuler is someone who may be trusted. One of the things you need immediately is more Occlumency training. I suggest you ask your lady friend to assist you in contacting her father and requesting training. Someone with Schuler's resources would certainly know how to arrange it.

_Anita is here now, along with Hermione Granger. I stayed away from classes today and told them it was because I had a nasty sinus headache. I claimed I took a potion and slept it off. As soon as you and I are done, I'll talk to Anita._

_What about this business of me taking the Dark Mark?_

Under no circumstances do your parents or I want you to be marked. If it comes to it, you should go into hiding to avoid it. The Dark Lord has a special mark in mind that would allow him to bring you to him, even completely against your will. It would also cause you to be harmed in whatever manner he is harmed. It is a way that he can prevent your parents from harming the child once it is born.

I suspect that if your mother were to become pregnant, she would be kept in complete seclusion except for your aunt and a few other trusted women Death Eaters. The Dark Lord will take no chances with his future body.

The Dark Lord has decided that I should be your sponsor within the Death Eaters. As such, I will be free to travel to Chicago to meet you and prepare you for the ceremony. This will allow us opportunities to meet and discuss what is going on, once you have undertaken additional Occlumency training. It will serve little purpose for me to tell you what is transpiring, only to require you put the memory in a Pensieve.

_What are your friends going to do to prevent any of this from happening?_

I will not tell you. It is safer for both you and them if you do not know. There is something you could help me with. I want to use the house-elves to give messages to your parents. There is a house-elf who will carry messages to them and bring them back. I want Pudding to be the intermediary. Do you agree that he is the best choice of the Manor's house-elves?

_He's the best choice of all of the elves. He's been my father's body servant since he was a boy and is completely loyal. If there were Houses for elves, he'd be a Slytherin. He'll find ways to get messages to them. Even if the Death Eaters suspect something, Pudding won't be broken. Like all of the personal servants of the family, he is spelled to be able to will his own death if he is at risk of spilling secrets. He'd do it before he'd betray my father._

Excellent. Having a way to communicate with your parents will help immensely. I will communicate with you via our journals daily. I want you to be reassured that I am doing all that I can to stop this from happening while keeping your parents safe.

_I place my trust in you, even though it is killing me not knowing who you are working with. I accept your reasons and will go and talk to Anita right away._

In that case, I have done all that I can this evening. I am going to get some sleep.

_Good night, Severus. Thank you_.

Just be careful. For all of our sakes.

---------------------------------  
Hermione

Anita has her notebook computer set up on Draco's kitchen table. We're both hunched over it so she can show me how to add Arithmantic formulas to a database. First, she's going to show me how to enter a standard formula for totaling a column and calculating the square root.

Draco wasn't feeling well today, so Anita wanted to work here and keep an eye on him. She had Wilhelmina bring over some of her special chicken soup with matzo balls for dinner. I suspect that this was Draco's first exposure to any sort of Jewish food. He looked pretty skeptical when he first saw the soup with the huge dumplings in it. Two spoonfuls of chicken broth and one bite of dumpling later and Draco was demonstrating a pretty healthy appetite.

Draco didn't get to hog all of it. Wilhelmina brought enough so that Warren and I both had the chance to try it. Warren said that Wilhelmina's recipe is just as good as what he could have had in a New York delicatessen. It is really good. I'm going to get Wilhelmina's recipe so that I can prepare it next time I'm catering for an Order meeting.

"Now, I'm going to enter the formula so that it applies to this column and the square root will appear in the final cell," says Anita, her fingers flying over the keyboard as we both gaze intently at the screen. "Watch after I enter the data," she continues. Her fingers tap keys on the numbers pad. She gives one of the buttons on the screen an emphatic punch with the cursor and the square root appears at the bottom of the column.

"I see," I remark. "Does it work the same way for entering an Arithmantic formula?"

"It does," replies Anita, "but first you have to do "ctrl" and hit the F4 key to get the Arithmancy symbols. The advantage of using the worksheet for Arithmancy is that you can work out your formula and insert the values and do preliminary tests in order to refine your work. You can catch a lot of errors and do several test runs to eliminate some of the more obvious values that interfere with getting the correct projections. The final runs of the entire formula have to be written on paper and the proper spells applied to get your true projections."

"I can see where running preliminary equations on a spreadsheet could make the whole process go so much faster," I comment.

"You should see my Dad when he's running equations," says Anita, leaning back in the desk chair and taking a sip of her Diet Coke. "I've seen him doing business projections with hundreds of different factors worked into the equation. He says it used to take him days or weeks to hand write all of it out and run the equations. Using a computer, he can set up the basic formula and determine the factors in a couple of hours. He hand writes the final couple of versions and has his projections within a day. I've helped him with it a few times and remember once when he made thirty million dollars off of the stock market with the projections. He gave me five percent for running some of the preliminaries that narrowed down the factors," adds Anita with a self-satisfied smirk.

"That is absolutely amazing," I reply, pushing the office chair back and reaching for my Snapple raspberry flavored tea.

"It is practically instinctual with him," sighs Anita, looking proud and envious at the same time. "He'll run a projection for the value of the yen against the dollar for May of 2004, insert another figure for the Russian wheat harvest in 2003, another factor for the outcome of a Congressional campaign in Idaho, whether or not low carb diets will be popular in January of 2005, plus twenty-five other factors and project the value of the stock for John Deere Company in August of 2005."

"I'm amazed it's not illegal," I comment, laughing.

"I'll bet it would be if other people could do it," says Anita, grinning. "That's why Dad is considered a genius when it comes to Arithmancy. He has hardly any magic. It is as if nature put all of it into the parts of the brain that run Arithmancy and didn't have any left over for the rest of the disciplines.

"If he tries to levitate a glass of water across a table, the strain gives him a headache. Let him wave his wand over two pages of equations and it's a totally different thing. The numbers and symbols whirl around, reshape themselves, and put themselves into new orders based on temporal factors and percentage of influence in the final outcome. Bingo! Dad has now accurately projected the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup."

"He better not let the bookmakers or the Department of Magical Sports and Games know that," I comment.

"Believe me; Dad's got his secrets. He only does sports projections for fun and saves the business projections for making money. Merlin knows, that's where the real money is." Anita stands up and stretches. "Ready for a break?"

We push away from the kitchen table and make ourselves comfortable on Draco's plush leather sofa. Crookshanks jumps up on my lap, a rather obvious ploy for attention.

He wandered in through Draco's open door. Since there are only four of us living in the building, we decided that we will leave our apartment doors open when we are available for company. A closed door means to knock and wait to be invited in. Cindy hasn't quite caught onto it. I think she floated in on Warren and his new boyfriend one evening while they were doing something in the living room. It must have been pretty educational, because Cindy has been asking a lot of questions about how gay people do certain things. Warren cracked up when she started and gave answers that had Draco blushing bright red.

At Cindy's request, Warren described how to give a blow job in a way that was very instructional. I'm certain Severus will appreciate what I learned.

"I wonder what Dorothy is fixing for dinner," Anita muses.

"Romaine lettuce salad, roast chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans with almonds and bacon, and angel food cake for afters," says Draco, who is learning against the door. "Starting next week, she'll put copies of a monthly menu in all tenants' mailboxes.

Anita waves him in and he takes the chair nearest to Anita. He looks upset.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

Draco's jaw is working like he is wrestling with whether or not to say something. He gives a wave of his right hand and the door into the hallway closes. Two wand waves and the sound suppressing spells kick in. Draco makes a few extra wand movements and mutters something under his breath. I'm not sure what that spell is. I've never seen it before.

Draco sits down in the chair closest to Anita, leans forward and clasps his hands around his knees. He rocks back and forth a couple of times.

I've never seen him act like this before.

He looks at Anita, who has scooted to the edge of the sofa and has reached over to pat Draco on the knee. He looks away from her and Anita bends down and tilts her head sideways so he can't avoid looking at her.

"Draco," she says, getting his attention. Her eyes widen as she encourages him to say what is on his mind.

I rise, figuring I should leave and give these two some space.

"It's okay," says Draco, shakily, "you can stay, Hermione." He pauses and gazes at Anita, looking bereft. "I – I need advice. Hermione knows the situation in England and maybe both of you can help."

I reluctantly sit back down. I really feel like I'm intruding.

"Just tell me what it is," says Anita, softly. She is being reassuring and supportive.

"You two have to promise me that this goes no further unless I say so," says Draco, straightening up so he can make eye contact with us.

"I promise," says Anita.

I don't know how to answer. One of my jobs for the Order is to keep an eye on Draco and report back. How can I promise Draco I won't tell anyone?

"Maybe I had better leave," I reply, looking Draco straight in the eye.

Draco looks surprised and Anita turns to look at me, gaping. She's getting ready to say something when Draco reaches over and takes her hand, stopping her.

"It's all the stuff we can't talk about, isn't it?" says Draco, shaking his head.

"Exactly," I reply. "It might be better if you didn't tell me."

"Probably," says Draco, looking at me intently. "Except that I trust you." Draco shakes his head, like he is amused at himself. "I know, I know. We're not supposed to be friends, except that we are. Neither of us is the person we were before we left England."

"No, we aren't," I admit. "We are friends. Much better friends than I ever thought would be possible, but we're still in a difficult situation."

"I'll give both of you situations at the end of my wand, if you don't stop talking in codes," says Anita, annoyed and looking like she's going to hex both of us.

"We're officially on different sides of the war," says Draco, explaining to Anita. "That's where the problem is." Draco runs his hands through his hair and gives it a frustrated tug. His head shoots up and he looks like he's made a decision. "I don't know what side of the war I'm on at this moment in time. I need help and I'm going to take the chance of trusting Hermione. I just ask that you think it over carefully before passing on this information to anyone who could use it against me."

I nod. It's the only promise I can make.

Draco takes a deep breath. "My parents are in some sort of trouble," he says, exhaling. "I received a message from my father telling me to stay in Chicago and not to come home."

"Did he give any reason why?" asks Anita.

Draco clenches and unclenches his fist.

"You know that my father is a Death Eater," says Draco, rushing the words out like he is afraid he won't say them otherwise.

"I guessed that was probably the case," says Anita, calmly.

Draco looks at me and I nod. This isn't exactly fresh news, given the Ministry of Magic and about ten thousand other pieces of evidence.

"My father wouldn't say exactly what is going on. He indicated he didn't have time to explain and that someone else I know would be in touch." Draco runs his hands through his hair, clutching at it anxiously. "He said that the Dark Lord wants me to be initiated as a Death Eater at the summer solstice."

Anita straightens up and her eyes widen with shock.

"Is that what you want?" I ask, giving Anita some space to get past her surprise.

Draco looks back and forth between us. He stopped clenching his hands and has grabbed his knees again to try and steady himself.

"No," he says in an emphatic whisper. "I've never wanted that. I've seen what that does to people and I want no part of it."

"Will the Dark Lord send someone after you?"

"I don't know," says Draco, staring off into space. "I'm pretty certain he'll use my parents as hostages to make sure he doesn't have to."

Anita leans over and takes both of Draco's hands in hers.

"We have to get you some help," she says, determinedly. "I'm going to call my Dad. He'll figure out what to do."

It takes only a moment for me to decide.

"Do you want us to help you?" I ask. "I can get you help, but I don't know if that will place your parents in more danger."

"Are you talking about the Order of the Phoenix?" he asks.

Anita looks back and forth between us, startled. I stay silent. Obviously, Anita has heard of the Order and is realizing that Draco and I really are officially on opposite sides in the war.

"If it's the Order, the Dark Lord might find out," says Draco, worried. "I can't take that chance. He'll hurt my parents." A light dawns in his eyes and Draco looks frightened. "You're in the Order, aren't you? You can't say anything to them." He starts to get up.

"It's okay, Draco," says Anita, giving me an urgent look. "Hermione isn't going to do anything you don't want her to do. She's a friend."

I can't promise Draco that. I have to get this information back to the Order as fast as I can. There is some sort of crisis among Death Eaters if one as important as Lucius Malfoy is being held prisoner. I hope Severus is all right. I wish I could reach him by telephone. Waiting for responses by paired journals can take a day. A very long nerve-wracking day.

"I think it is a good idea to talk to Anita's father," I respond. "If your father said you must not come back to England, he must know what he's talking about. If Voldemort sends someone after you, you've got to have protection."

"I don't know what to do," says Draco, rising from his chair. He begins pacing back and forth. "Maybe I should wait for my friend to contact me again."

"I know what to do," says Anita, standing up and crossing the room to the telephone. "I'm going to call my father and get protection organized."

I don't think Anita knows just how much protection is already organized around this building. It isn't a good idea for me to tell her.

"Do you still keep your good firewhisky in the _Tea with Ginseng_ bottle?" I ask Draco.

"Yeah," he says, staring out the window.

I take it upon myself to rummage through the cupboards of his kitchen until I find the bottle of _Tea with Ginseng_ that I remember from when we all got drunk before Christmas last year. I am appalled by the number of boxes of Twinkies and Ding Dongs I just found and remind myself that this is not the time for a lecture on the consequences of eating junk food. Taking three glasses from another cupboard, I bring them along with the bottle back into the living room.

In short order, I'm pressing a glass into his hand. He takes a drink and makes a face as the burn goes down. Draco gets up and stands by the window. Anita slips her cell phone back into her handbag and holds out her hand to accept her glass.

We all toss down the rest of the fifty year old fire whisky in our glasses before Anita speaks.

"We'll be able to get in to see Dad at his office in forty-five minutes," says Anita. "I talked to Keiko Takahashi, who is in charge of security at Digital Magic. She says that security agents are on their way to make sure no one comes in this building who doesn't belong here."

"Do you think he'd actually send Death Eaters to come and get you?" asks Anita.

"I can't know for certain," says Draco. "I don't think so, especially since they can't get directly into this building and would have to appear in public. There aren't many of them who would have even the slightest idea of how to blend in with Muggles. In Death Eater robes and masks, they'd look like Halloween came early this year," snorts Draco.

I know that I am thinking far more clearly than Draco, right now.

"They'd glamour themselves or use Notice-me-not charms," I comment, softly. "He won't send anyone right away. There's too much at stake and he'll want things managed carefully. He'd send for you first. He wouldn't send anyone to fetch you, unless you didn't show up."

Draco puts his hands in his pockets and stares out the windows.

------------------------

Anita's Portkey brought us to the same transportation room that Bill and I used the last time we visited Digital Magic's headquarters. I'll confess to being very relieved when Laketha met us there and escorted us to Daniel Schuler's office. We were in the reception area when Keiko Takahashi joined us. Anita introduced her as the Chief of Security for Digital Magic. Ms. Takahashi is drop-dead gorgeous with her almond eyes and long black hair. As a liberated witch of the nineties, I'm pleased to see that Mr. Schuler employs women in important jobs with Digital Magic.

We waited fifteen anxious minutes before we were ushered into the office of the President and Chief Executive Officer of Digital Magic, Incorporated.

Daniel Schuler looks ordinary. He's wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt and a tie with alternating broad stripes of yellow and navy. He's a little above average height and has a touch of middle-age spread. Blue eyes are framed in silver wire-rimmed spectacles that go well with his graying mouse brown hair. There is nothing impressive about him when you see him. Then, he starts to talk and you suddenly realize that you're standing in the presence of a man who may very well be one of the most powerful men in the world, Muggle and wizarding both.

First, he has to unwrap himself from Anita's hug. For all that he has the ears of captains and kings, he's still a dad.

My heart lurches for a moment as I remember what it was like to have my dad.

I can't think about that, now. There is too much at stake.

Mr. Schuler looks around the room.

"Keiko," he says, "I think that Draco would prefer more privacy. If I could ask you and Laketha to wait outside my office until we are done?"

The two women nod and leave.

"I would like Anita and Hermione to stay," says Draco, taking one of the chairs in front of Mr. Schuler's desk.

"That is your choice," replies Mr. Schuler from his place behind the huge desk. "I think you can trust Anita with anything you have to say. I don't know Hermione as well as you do, so if you feel you can trust her, I'm fine with that."

Mr. Schuler is being careful to protect my role as a courier for the Order.

"I appreciate that," replies Draco. "Hermione is well acquainted with the situation in Britain and has friends who are actively involved in the war."

"Is that what this is about?" asks Schuler.

"I'm not entirely certain of what is going on," says Draco, sounding very calm and collected. Having some time to get himself under control before we arrived helped with that. "I received a message from my father this morning. He reported that he and my mother are being held prisoner at the Manor. By Death Eaters. At the orders of Lord Voldemort."

I suspect Draco worded the last part for dramatic impact.

"Your father is a Death Eater," replies Schuler, equally calm. "Why would he be held a prisoner? From what I know of the Dark Lord, if your parents betrayed him in some manner, he would have killed them outright."

Mr. Schuler has just let Draco know that he has a working knowledge of what is going on in Britain. He referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord, so he even knows how Death Eaters refer to him.

"I don't know the full details," says Draco, shaking his head. "A friend is trying to find out exactly why they are prisoners. In the meantime, I am under orders from my father and by recommendation from my friend, not to return to Britain. The Dark Lord intends that I shall take the Dark Mark on the evening of the summer solstice."

"On the summer solstice?" says Schuler, looking thoughtful. "June 21st?"

"Yes," nods Draco.

Mr. Schuler looks like he is lost in thought, tapping his index finger on his desk.

"Dad?" asks Anita.

Schuler startles for a moment and Anita gives him a knowing smile. One of those father and daughter communications like I used to have with Dad.

My heart lurches again. Envy and grief compete for my attention.

Mr. Schuler looks towards Draco.

"It seems you have a difficult choice to make, son," he says, looking at Draco intently.

"The choice isn't difficult," says Draco, running his hand through his hair, "it's the consequences of my decision for my parents that is my concern."

"You have to say exactly what you mean," says Anita, coaxing.

"I don't want to take the Dark Mark," says Draco, emphatically. "I don't want to be a Death Eater. I also don't want the Dark Lord to kill my parents because I won't do what he says."

Mr. Schuler stands up and comes around the desk. He sits on the corner of the desk closest to Anita.

"I'm willing to help you," says Mr. Schuler. "I'm arranging for twenty-four hour a day security for you. They will also be keeping an eye on Anita, Hermione, and Warren."

"Thank you," says Draco.

"If necessary," continues Mr. Schuler, "I can put you into hiding where they'd never find you. The downside to that is if you disappear, your parents will probably pay the price."

"I can't hide," insists Draco. "That's not a solution I can use."

"How much risk are you willing to take personally?" asks Schuler, in deceptively casual tones.

"As much as necessary," answers Draco determinedly. "If there is some way that I can help my parents to get out of England, I'll do it. Even if it means disobeying their orders and going back to Britain."

"Right now," replies Schuler, looking pleased by Draco's response, "we don't know what our options are. We'll keep that possibility in mind."

"One of the things I think that I'm going to need is more Occlumency training," says Draco. "If I have to face the Dark Lord for any reason, he'll find out about you helping me and that I'm not loyal to him."

Mr. Schuler smiles.

"You have more friends than you might realize," says Mr. Schuler. "A party who must remain nameless at the moment has made a request on your behalf. I have already made arrangements for you to receive training." Mr. Schuler reaches over and presses a button on a device on his desk.

"Could you send Keiko and Laketha back in and send Roger along?"

The door to the office opens and Ms. Takahashi and Laketha return. I am very surprised to see Professor Littlehorse following behind them.

"Professor Littlehorse?" asks Anita, sounding puzzled. She looks back and forth between the professor and her father.

"One and the same," replies the professor, in a teasing tone.

"Rule number one," says Mr. Schuler, interrupting to get all of our attention. "Anita is not going to be a part of this war in Britain," he says, looking at Draco. "Whatever goes on with your and Hermione's involvement, Anita is staying out of it."

"Dad," says Anita, sounding very annoyed.

Mr. Schuler shakes his head and points a finger at her. "You are staying out of this business, young lady," insists Mr. Schuler. "You are not getting directly involved in this war. You have your relationship with Draco and that is as far as it goes."

"The last time I checked," Anita retorts, "I met the legal definition of an adult. If Draco is in trouble, I want to help."

"The last time I checked," replies Mr. Schuler, sounding very stern, "you were my daughter and I was paying all of your bills. On top of that, you are an American witch and you don't have the skills or experience to help with this. You will stay out of this or I will take you home and have Keiko ward you into your bedroom until this whole thing is resolved."

"Daddy," huffs Anita. "You wouldn't."

Anita's eyes get wide when she sees Ms. Takahashi smiling at her in a particularly predatory way.

Draco reaches over and touches her hand.

"Your father is right," says Draco, softly. "I appreciate that you want to help, but to be directly involved would just put you in danger and give me even more to worry about. It may not help you to hear me say this, but Hermione and I have been dealing with this war since we were kids. We have skills that you don't and I'm really glad you never had to develop them."

Anita looks rebellious.

"Draco is right," says Laketha. "Your direct involvement in this would be more of a liability than a help. To be honest, you'd be in the way and we'd have to protect you. The best help you can be is by being supportive of Draco and Hermione. This is their fight, not yours."

Anita sends an all purpose glare around the room, which her father is ignoring as he proceeds to talk to Draco.

"I've asked Professor Littlehorse to be here so that he can start instructing you in Occlumency," says Mr. Schuler. "You will have a lot to learn in a short amount of time, so Roger has agreed to start your training immediately."

"We'll begin this evening," says Professor Littlehorse, coming around to the side of Mr. Schuler's desk.

"I"ve already had some Occlumency training," explains Draco.

I'd be willing to bet Severus taught him.

"Not quite like this," replies Professor Littlehorse. "You learned Occlumency in the European model, which is based on the Far Eastern model. That is the method used in most of the rest of the world. I'm going to teach you the Navajo version. Our methods are significantly different and highly effective against the European techniques. I've heard that Lord Voldemort is a Legilimens of extraordinary power, but he's never faced a Native American wizard."

"I didn't think there were any other techniques," I interject.

"Native Americans developed Legilimancy and Occlumency in isolation from the rest of the world," replies Professor Littlehorse with a very Severus-like smirk. "Our methods are very different than yours. Unless Voldemort studied under a Native American shaman, he won't be able to penetrate mental shields set up using Navajo techniques."

"That is as far as our discussion should go right now," says Mr. Schuler. "Anything else could be pulled out of your head by a skilled Legilimens. When Roger says that you are ready, we'll continue our discussion about the situation in Britain."

Laketha steps forward.

"When you go back to your apartment building," she says, "You'll find that the wards have been adjusted. Anyone who has a Dark Mark and steps on the property will set off the wards. If that happens, our security people will Apparate in using back doors we're installing in your wards. We will also have agents who will be assigned to watch the building and follow any of you when you leave the building. I strongly encourage you not to let anyone else move in until we have this situation under control."

I can't help but think that they are viewing this as an opportunity to reveal what they have already done.

"No one else is supposed to move in until July when the summer classes at Avalon are due to start," says Draco.

Laketha and Ms. Takahashi exchange a look.

"We can be prepared by then," says Laketha.

"Can we tell Warren what is going on?" asks Anita.

"We'll need to arrange for him to meet with Laketha for a briefing," suggests Ms. Takahashi. "That can take place tomorrow."

"What about Adam?" asks Anita.

"He'll be under surveillance," says Ms. Takahashi. "That is all we are going to say about our security arrangements until Mr. Malfoy is proficient in Occlumency."

"Under the circumstances," says Professor Littlehorse, "I'd like to provide the training to Draco and Hermione. Both of them know enough about this business to pose a threat should they be subjected to a probe."

"I'm certainly willing to learn," I announce. I can't wait to learn how to do this. Maybe I can teach Severus their techniques and help keep him safer from the Dark Lord.

"If Roger is willing to make the time to teach two students," says Mr. Schuler, "Then I am willing to approve it. Draco needs to be prioritized for a crash course. When Roger determines that he is sufficiently skilled, we will meet again. Until that time, I suggest we adjourn."

There are nods all around. I certainly need to get to my journals right away.

----------------------------------  
E-mail Communication  
Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm

To: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
From: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 10, 1999  
Re: First session

I met with Draco this evening and we started our lessons. He already has skills in Occlumency, using the European methods. He is going to have to unlearn what he already knows in order to learn the Navajo techniques. This will take a few days before I'll be able to help him rebuild his mental barriers. I suggest that he be monitored carefully by your security people. If Voldemort were to get his hands on Draco right now, he'd learn about Lucius Malfoy's disloyalty and enough other information to seriously compromise our support of the Order of the Phoenix.

By the way, could you send me the full text of the Marked Man and the Maiden prophecy? When we were in your office, I spent a little time inside of Hermione Granger's head. I'm pretty sure I know the identities of the two people in question. I'd like to check the prophecy before I give you my opinion.

---------------------

To: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
From: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 10, 1999  
Re: First session

Here you go:

_The wizard of Dark Humours shall seek out the Maiden. The partner of the Marked Man, their creation alone can contain his magic._

That's the English translation of Nostradamus' Latin version. I eagerly await your interpretation.

--------------------

To: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
From: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 11, 1999  
Re: Granger

Given the prophecy, I want to start training Hermione Granger in Occlumency immediately. There is no doubt in my mind that she was the Maiden in question and Severus Snape is the Marked Man. I didn't see all the details in her head, but I'll be able to get more of them out of her once I start her training. Hermione and Snape are the inventors of a potion to be used as a weapon against Voldemort. We certainly want to know a lot more about it.

By the way, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape recently became lovers. He is most definitely on her mind a lot. Since she is no longer a maiden, something they have created already exists and is the thing that can contain Voldemort's magic.

--------------------

To: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
From: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 11th, 1999  
Re: Granger

That explains a lot. As soon as I received your e-mail, I started running projections too. I put Hermione Granger and Severus Snapes' factors into the Marked Man and the Maiden prophecy. It fits perfectly.

I can't believe I missed that before. It's probably because Adam dated her last autumn and I never considered the possibility that my son wouldn't have made it past first base with her. No wonder they split up. It wouldn't have worked out for them anyway, but she had a strong fate-based impetus to be attracted to someone else who could match her much more closely.

When I fit Snape and Hermione's factors into the equation along with the new information about the Malfoys and Draco, my projections become very specific. The outcome of the war will be determined on June 21st, one way or the other. Whoever wins whatever happens then will win the war. We need to ensure it is the correct side.

Proceed with Hermione's Occlumency training, but don't allow her and Draco to practice on each other. Until they can block out what they know, either of them could expose Snape and I suspect Hermione knows enough to sink the whole ship if she were taken to Voldemort.

--------------------------------  
Author's notes

During World War II, the American military enlisted over 400 Navajos who conducted radio communication in the Navajo language. In the 1940's, this unwritten language had only about thirty people outside of the Navajo tribe who could speak it. These Navajo Code Talkers created a code that could not be broken. Their service and methods in WWII were the inspiration for the idea that Native Americans could have developed a whole different method of Occlumency.

Twinkies are a sponge cake snack with a cream filling. Ding Dongs are chocolate cake with a waxy chocolate coating and cream filling. Both are full of preservatives and empty calories. Of the two, I really like Ding Dongs.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Ami Mizuno1, Angie S, Kristine Thorne, T wrecks, Lipasnape, Lone Butterfly, Lilyginny27, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Jade2099, Darque Hart, Karen Detroit, Luvinthunder, Spst, Sunsethill, o0morgana0o, MollysSister, Lady-Daine, Pstibbons, Yapyap, Hpfanwenday, Keske, Laurenke1, Marble Meadow, Lyndie578, DeceptiveFates, Kimjo, FarmerLiz, Quiet-mg, Oscarxena, Droxy, Lilsnape, Periwinkle, Kirien, Fenen, Nottbook, MysticSong1978, Ebbe04, Notwritten, Sweety-Pie5445, Maddie50, Duj, MagicDaisy, Koliber, Jocemum, xx Zenon xx, SiriusDesires, Nanook1844, Arsinoe De Blassenville, Evil-mastermind666, Arime Setta, Excessivelyperky, Not so Chicken Little, SiriusDesires, Redone, Latinachikita, Princessfiona, Missy, Summonfire, Squeaker94150, Erytha, Keep, Trulyamused, Pickles87, Stephani, Persevero, and Professor.Bat.


	86. Chapter 86

I really don't own any of this and no money is being made.

Many thanks to Julia for finding time to look over this chapter in spite of being terribly busy and having the flu on top of it. Thank you to a few mystery folks who provided input into the characters and their actions in this chapter.

Did you know that Katyes has translated 72 chapters of "Looking for Magic" into German? It boggles my mind!

-------------------------------------  
May 13th, 1999  
Severus

Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

Once again, I am catching a few minutes to communicate with you. Between weapon development, teaching, and helping students prepare for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, there are simply not enough hours in the day. Fortunately, the Dark Lord has not summoned me so I am able to get a reasonable amount of sleep.

I have good news. The Runespoor is in an egg forming cycle, as confirmed by Ellen. We should expect the eggs to be laid sometime between the 22nd and 26th. At least then we will know where we stand regarding our weapon's ability to suppress the Dark Lord's magic.

George and Fred have been added to our team on a permanent basis. I cannot decide how best to describe the twins. Without a doubt, they are two of the most creative individuals on the face of this earth. However, the manner in which they develop their new products must be astonishingly erratic. When I arrived at headquarters a few nights ago, the twins and your two friends were in the cellar studying the properties of Muggle water balloons they had made. Out of curiosity or possibly because of a surreptitious Imperious, I felt compelled to watch when they conducted part of the study as a water balloon fight in the back yard. They pelted each other until they were drenched.

I believe there was a brief foolhardy moment when they considered making me a target. Fortunately, my facial expression was sufficient to dissuade them, so no Unforgiveables were cast.

Having thoroughly explored the properties of exploding water-filled latex balloons, they proceeded to do a comparison with water-filled latex condoms. At that point, I abandoned them to their toys and returned to Hogwarts to continue my perusal of the literature relevant to our project. I do hope they banished the remains of the broken water balloons and condoms in the back yard. Otherwise, pointed questions are likely to be asked the next time there is a meeting of the Order.

I am not entirely certain how water balloon fights will add to our overall effort to develop a method for delivering our weapon, but they certainly went about it with great enthusiasm.

In spite of certain team members regressing to a very immature point in their social development, we have made some progress in our efforts to develop a delivery system for our weapon. At least we have defined whole classes of containers that will not work. I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that we will need to use a warded glass of some sort. There are a number of us who are spending every available minute searching the literature for different warding spells for glass objects.

Bill is keeping the list of spells considered and discarded. He will send you a copy on Monday and then you can do a search of Avalon's files to see if there are any spells there that we have missed.

In your last entry, you said that you will be unable to return to Britain until your term finishes on May 28th because of needing to finish your class work for the term. It is just as well since you cannot go anywhere except The Burrow and headquarters. As I told you in my last entry, by the Dark Lord's decree, you are to be seized at the first opportunity away from the United States. If you leave, Draco is expected to notify his father. The Dark Lord will be informed immediately so the Death Eaters can be alerted that you may be in this country. We dare not take the risk.

How is your Occlumency training progressing? I had not heard that the Navajo tribe had developed a different form of Occlumency. It is good that Professor Littlehorse is training both you and Draco. However, I will reserve judgment on whether or not his methods are impervious to European methods of Legilimency until Albus and I have the opportunity to test the shields you develop.

Meanwhile, you and Draco must not talk any further about any matters related to the war until both of you have shields in place. There is too great a risk that the Dark Lord will summon Draco before the initiation is to take place. He may even send a Death Eater to escort Draco back. If he does, Schuler's people will act and the Dark Lord will know that Draco is a traitor to the cause. All manner of mayhem will ensue once that becomes known.

However such events unfold, Draco may face the Dark Lord and put us all in danger. Unless he has powerful shields in place, they will fail and the Dark Lord will dredge every bit of useful information that he can from Draco's mind.

I must go now. Before I leave to return to my responsibilities, I want you to know that you are often on my mind. The memory of your hands on my skin, the feel of your soft hair against my shoulder, the touch of your lips against mine. Those brief moments we had together just two weeks ago are both a comfort and a torment. Comforting, because they happened and I can hold them when I cannot hold you. Torment, because I do not know when we can be together again.

Either way, I think of you throughout the days and into the nights.

Yours,  
Severus

-------------------------  
Severus  
Evening

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you consumed one lemon sherbet too many," I state in the snidest tone I can muster. "The sugar has accumulated in your brain, sent you over the edge, and you have lost your bloody mind."

"Now, Severus," says Albus, with an air of infinite patience, "I would not ask this of you if I did not consider it to be essential for your safety."

"I am forced to agree with Albus," adds Chester Sommersby, "And you have no idea how it pains me to admit it."

Albus and Chester are standing side-by-side. Both of them have snowy white beards whose length must be measured by the foot. Those beards are bobbing up and down in what looks like a carefully choreographed unison as the two men nod in agreement.

I would have preferred that the two of them continue arguing with each other about strategy for our planned attack on the Death Eater initiation at the Malfoy estate on June 21st. That would leave them no time to invent foolish plans about tampering with the Dark Mark.

"If the weapon does not work for any reason or we lose the battle, you will be exposed to the Dark Lord as a traitor," states Chester emphatically. "We will need to get you out of Britain. Schuler's people will arrange for safe houses for as many as we can evacuate to the United States. If they must take over the fight, they will need everything you know about the Dark Lord, his organization, and his methods."

"We must find a way to neutralize the Dark Mark," says Albus. "You cannot successfully hide in the United States with an active Dark Mark. I would prefer not to have to hack off your left forearm to accomplish it."

Once again, Albus proves that no good deed ever goes unpunished. At Poppy's request, I brewed a highly specialized potion that is working far better at controlling Albus' high blood pressure than the standard brew. Had I not done so, he would be back at Hogwarts under Poppy's watchful eye instead of at headquarters being a damned busybody. He is here planning things with Sommersby that will get me killed.

"Find another way," I snarl, "I will not be your guinea pig."

"Hear me out, Severus," coaxes Albus.

Albus and Sommersby have stopped bobbing. Albus comes to my side and puts his arm around my shoulder, drawing me over to what is normally his chair in front of the fireplace. That action alone is enough to set off alarms in my head. Sommersby takes the wingback chair opposite of mine. Albus busies himself with pouring firewhiskies for Chester and me and a glass of red wine for himself.

I look at him questioningly.

"I am permitted one per day," says Albus, gazing sadly at the small glass, which contains only a few sips. He looks at our firewhiskies with envy.

I do not feel the least bit guilty as I enjoy a healthy portion of my firewhisky while Albus looks on.

"While I appreciate your reluctance to hack off a good portion of my arm," I explain carefully, being the very soul of patience, "I would prefer that to having the Dark Lord torture me for several hours before offering me one of his quality Avada Kedavras. If you meddle with the Dark Mark in any way, he will know. How do you think he figured out that Regulus Black was attempting to defect? You know how well that went."

"That is exactly why we want to find another way," says Albus. "All I am asking is that you hear me out before making a decision."

If I have just released a long-suffering sigh, it is because I am suffering and deserve to sigh about it.

"Professor Franks and Madam Long have worked together for the last nine years on analyzing _and neutralizing_ bond slave marks," says Albus. "According to the information I have, they have been successful in freeing forty-seven wizards and witches from their bonds."

"And in how many cases have they failed?" I retort.

"According to Professor Franks, they have failed in fourteen cases," replies Albus. "In those cases, they were unable to do an analysis of the bond slave mark because they could not find a comparable mark in order to set up a resonance for the analysis. When I say that they failed, they did not even attempt to neutralize the mark because they did not have sufficient information about the magical composition of the mark. In all of the cases where they were able to establish resonance between the slave mark and a known active mark, they have been able to conduct the analysis. When Professor Franks and Madam Long have been able to analyze the marks, they have been able to find safe ways to neutralize them."

"Then why has this not been announced?" I ask. "If they have the means to neutralize slave bonds, surely they would want it to be known."

"In my discussions with Professor Franks," says Albus, "She has made the point that if they revealed that they could free bond slaves from their marks, slavers would change the composition of their marks to make it more difficult to accomplish. They believe a public announcement would undermine their efforts at this time."

"All we are asking you to do is observe," states Chester. "Professor Franks and Madam Long will conduct their analysis this evening. They will be upstairs in the extra bedroom on the third floor. I have placed a mirror in the room and you will be able to see and hear everything that goes on via the mirror in your bedroom. The two ladies will not meet you, nor will they know of your presence."

I shake my head, very concerned about this whole business.

"I can certainly observe from a hidden location, but that is not my real concern," I emphasize. "If they make a mistake in their analysis, the Dark Lord will be alerted that someone is tampering with a Dark Mark. He will want to know who is doing it. We do not know if he will be able to discern that, given the circumstances. Or, it may be that he will determine who it is by process of elimination when he tests the Marks of active Death Eaters."

"The worst that could happen would be that the Dark Lord will determine that prisoners in Azkaban with Dark Marks are being used in experiments again," insists Albus.

"That is not the worst that could happen," I reply, getting very annoyed that these two are not thinking past the immediate. "The worst that could happen is that we tip our hand that there is _a reason_ someone would want to neutralize a Dark Mark. The Dark Lord's first conclusion will be that there is a traitor in his ranks. His response will be to do a deep probe of all of his Death Eaters. While I am not averse to Dolohov, Rookwood, and the like getting severe headaches, I prefer to avoid being a spy when the Dark Lord is specifically looking for one. His Crucios are most effective and he has a special gift with Avada Kedavra."

"I realize that there are ways this could go wrong and have serious consequences," offers Chester. "I still ask that you observe and reserve your decision until you have seen the ladies conduct their analysis."

There are times when Albus' overbearing personality and manipulations are enough to make me want to toss him off the Astronomy Tower. Chester Sommersby is a different matter. Perhaps it is because we have so little history. If I saw Sommersby on a daily basis in the manner that I have Albus, I would probably want to pitch him right off after Albus. Save me from powerful wizards who want me to do things for my own good.

Oh, very well. I will only observe. If I see anything that looks like it might damage my situation, I will call a halt to the proceedings.

"I will agree to observe via the mirrors," I sigh, much put upon. "However, I reserve the right to send you a message Patronus if I feel anything is being done that may create difficulties."

"Of course, of course," exclaims Albus, beaming.

It is easy for him to be pleased since he has got his way once again.

"I have received the report from Dobby about his visit to Malfoy Manor," I state, deftly changing the subject. "Pudding is able to meet with him in a copse of trees near the brook along the south side of the estate. The house-elves have been instructed by Pudding to cooperate fully with Dobby, so the area is monitored at all times in case Dobby is there. Pudding will meet with him there personally, unless the Death Eater guard starts monitoring Pudding since he is chief house-elf."

"What is the status of the Malfoys?" asks Chester.

"Both are well," I reply. "At this point, the guard around Lucius is rotated between Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Edmund Rutherford, and Steven Kellogg. Narcissa's guard includes Bellatrix Lestrange, Regina Woldscott, Agatha Binsford, and Ima LeDrox."

"That explains where Ellen's ward clerk and lead suspect in the theft of the fertility potions disappeared to," remarks Albus.

"I have alerted Jean and Kingsley to that effect," I add.

"I am most dismayed to hear that LeDrox is at Malfoy Manor," comments Sommersby. "The Dark Lord is pulling in his strongest resources to protect his plan to gain a new body for himself."

"Agreed," I reply. "The Dark Lord has kept her out of the country because of her known involvement in the McKinnon family murders. She is as powerful a warrior in his cause as Bellatrix. Unlike Bella, LeDrox is not insane. She is simply a cold-blooded killer."

"He is making it clear to the Malfoys that they will cooperate or they will die," says Albus.

"Exactly," I confirm. "Dobby also reports that the Malfoys are sleeping in separate bedrooms. I suspect the Dark Lord is taking no chances that Narcissa might conceive even without the help of a fertility potion."

"He may also be thinking that a month or so of deprivation might make the Malfoys less inhibited, given that the Dark Lord will be a participant in the threesome that will result in the conception of his new body," speculates Albus.

"The Dark Lord is determined to see this through," says Chester. He pounds the arm of his chair with his fist for emphasis. "It is our job to see that he does not succeed."

"Amen," I murmur.

---------------------------  
Hermione  
Early Afternoon

The slow and steady beat of the drum thrums in my chest.

When Professor Littlehorse offered to teach Draco and me the Navajo form of Occlumency, I never thought it would involve lying on the floor and listening to him drum. It is amazingly relaxing.

This is the fourth consecutive lunchtime that Professor Littlehorse has portkeyed into the apartment house to see us. Apartment B on the third floor is renovated, but not occupied, so we've been using it for our somewhat clandestine meetings. Draco and I transfigured some odds and end of scrap wood into chairs, but Professor Littlehorse prefers sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor. He has us doing the same, except when we are lying down.

It has been interesting to listen to Draco and Professor Littlehorse talk about how Draco uses Occlumency. Apparently, Draco has been hiding important memories in books that he shelved in the Restricted Section of a Hogwarts Library that exists only in his own mind. Most of the initial lessons we had were focused on Draco removing the memories from those books and integrating them back into his regular memories. Once they were back where they were originally, the lessons changed.

The Navajo form of Occlumency uses a whole different approach to anything I've ever heard of before. The drumming is a part of it. Draco and I are supposed to be on vision quests to make contact with our totem animals. One's totem animal is supposed to provide protection and guidance as you find your way through spiritual and physical life. Once you've established contact and communication, the totem animal can hide memories.

I haven't encountered any animals during the three drumming sessions we've had so far.

I have to bring myself back to the rhythmic sound of the drum. I let myself daydream and travel to wherever the drumming takes me.

The drumming seems to fade into the background in favor of the sound of running water. I can hear it as I walk barefoot through the woods. I recognize this place, having visited here during yesterday's drumming session. There is a thick layer of fallen leaves from the trees overhead. Otherwise, the twigs and stones on the forest floor would hurt my feet as I step on them.

But they don't. In fact, the leaves feel wonderfully cool and soft beneath my feet.

There it is.

I have a perfectly nice babbling brook in the middle of my bit of forest. Light is filtering through the leaves on the trees overhead and casting shadows onto the water. The rays of sunlight catch on surface and reflect into my eyes. I blink a few times before I see it.

Actually, I hear it first. It's rustling in the brush along the brook. There it is.

An otter

It has a rough gray coat with a brownish cast to it. There's a whitish color on the chest, extending under its chin. The otter has a snubby nose, close set ears, and beady little eyes that are alert to everything. It sniffs along the ground and then lifts its head and looks towards me. It looks curious.

The otter scampers to the edge of the brook and dives in with the confidence of a creature born to be in the water. It rises to the surface and ducks beneath again. I can't take my eyes off of this graceful form, which looks boneless as it moves through the water. It comes to the edge of the brook and clings to a large flat rock, looking directly at me.

I take a step forward. The otter raises its head and follows me with its eyes. It turns its head as if it hears a noise on the other side of the brook. Moving swiftly, the otter dives back into the water.

I can hear the sound of the drum.

The brook is fading, along with the trees and the sounds of the forest around me.

My left shoulder blade itches and I shift slightly, feeling the carpet beneath me.

I open my eyes. Professor Littlehorse is watching Draco as he drums.

Taking a deep breath, I sit up and look over at Draco. His eyes are moving beneath the lids, as if he is dreaming. Crossing my legs, I sit quietly and watch.

A few minutes later, the drumming has stopped and Draco is opening his eyes.

"Wow," he says, sleepily. He rolls over from his back and lies on his side, resting his head on the palm of his hand. He blinks a few times, like he is having a hard time focusing.

"That was amazing," he says.

"What did you see?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"I don't know how to describe it," says Draco, sitting up all the way. He yawns and stretches. He then assumes the cross legged, straight backed posture we've been imitating from Professor Littlehorse.

"Begin at the beginning," replies Littlehorse, "If you can remember it."

"I was walking along a riverbed," says Draco. "The river was wide and slow. There were high cliffs rising above me to the east. I walked a long way until I saw the painting up on the cliffs."

"What was the painting?" asks Littlehorse.

"A giant bird creature of some sort," answers Draco. "It was the ugliest thing I've ever seen and I said something to that order when I saw it in the dream. It had red wings, but its body was covered with scales. That part was mostly green, but it also had red and black scales. The legs and feet were like a bird's, with enormous claws. It had a tail that was so long, it could wind around the thing's body and scratch its own head. The head was hideous. It looked almost human, except that it had fangs and what looked like antlers.

"I was just standing there," continues Draco. "I was looking at the painting on the cliffs when the painting started to shrink. It was about the size of a hippogriff when it stopped shrinking. Then, it came right off of the cliff wall and turned into a real live monster bird. It flew down and landed in front of me."

"What did it do?" asks the professor.

"It looked at me," says Draco. "I knew I ought to be afraid and started to back off. It rested on its haunches and kept looking at me. Then, it said "_Protect_" in a deep booming voice that didn't sound human. It flew off, circled around me a few times, and then went back to the face of the cliff and turned into the painting again."

"Were you actually afraid of the bird?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"No," replies Draco, shaking his head and looking puzzled. "It was the ugliest monster I've ever seen. I should have been afraid, but I wasn't."

Professor Littlehorse sets down the drum and picks up his wand. He murmurs a charm and begins drawing in mid air with his wand. Before long, he has sketched out a rough drawing of the creature in Draco's description. It glows as if it were in neon.

"Antlers, human eyes, wings, and an enormous tail," says Draco, surprised. "You have it almost exactly. Is this a real creature?"

"It's a magical creature that lives on the cliffs along the Mississippi River," explains Professor Littlehorse. "It is called the Piasa bird and it had a territory that ran from northern Illinois down to Arkansas. The Illini Indian tribe had the most contact with it. The wizards in the tribe spread stories about it killing and eating men in order to keep other tribes afraid of it. It lived on wild game and only attacked humans when the wizards summoned it to protect the tribe from attack."

"Wow," says Draco. "It's amazing that I would imagine a monster that turns out to be real."

"Not amazing at all," says Littlehorse, smiling. "The whole point of this has been to facilitate contact with your totem animal. You just happen to have one that is unique. I've not encountered anyone who had the Piasa bird as a totem before. That it should be someone who is not of Indian descent and who didn't even know what it was is highly significant."

"What about it appearing on the wall of the cliff as a painting?" I ask.

"That is also an important piece of evidence," explains the professor. "Centuries ago, the Illini Indians painted a picture of the Piasa bird on the cliffs overlooking the Mississippi River near what is now Alton, Illinois. It served as a warning to others who might be passing through.

"As I recall, it was during the late 1700's that the land along the Mississippi River started to be settled by Europeans. The wizards within the tribe understood that the Europeans viewed wizards and witches differently than the Illini did. It was necessary to hide the magical world from them. As a part of it, they glamoured the painting of the Piasa bird so it could only be seen by wizards. According to Muggle history, the painting was destroyed by the settlers because it represented pagan beliefs."

"The painting is real?" asks Draco, more to himself than anyone else.

"The original painting is still there," replies Littlehorse. "Only wizards can see it. Out of respect for the Illini culture and as a draw to tourists, a Muggle replica was painted on a different cliff last year. It is a close representation when compared to the original."

Professor Littlehorse has put his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Clearly, you have a powerful totem animal to guide you. It has given you a message," he says.

"It said _protect_," muses Draco. "I wonder if it meant that it was supposed to protect me or I was supposed to protect someone or something?"

"It will likely do both," says Professor Littlehorse, as he rises to his feet. He opens his leather satchel and puts the drum inside. It must be bottomless, because the drum shouldn't fit in there. He turns to me.

"What did you see?"

"I was in a forest near a brook," I reply. "It was the same forest as yesterday, but the brook was new. Even better, I saw an otter swimming in the water. It climbed out of the brook, looked at me, and then dove back. It didn't talk to me, though."

"A very good sign," says Professor Littlehorse. "It will probably start communicating with you in one of the next few sessions. Keep in mind that the communication isn't necessarily verbal. The communication can also be through visual images or psychic impressions. Stay open to all possibilities."

He rummages through his leather satchel some more and pulls out two cases with CDs in them. He hands one to each of us.

"Now that you have both encountered your totem animals, I want you to practice making contact with them," he says. "These are recordings of drumming. I'd like you to practice one time per day on your own. I won't be available to meet with both of you again until Monday. I want you to keep a journal describing what you experience during the drumming sessions."

"I have a question, Professor." I am burning with curiosity and need to know. "My Patronus is an otter. Is that why it is my totem animal?"

"A very good question," replies Littlehorse. "A Patronus and totem animal can be the same, but often are not. In fact, totem animals may change through the course of your life as you need different kinds of guidance. A Patronus may change in response to emotional stresses or needs in life." He looks at Draco. "What is your Patronus?"

"It's a peregrine falcon," says Draco.

"Interesting choices," says Littlehorse. "Your Patronus is chosen by your unconscious mind. An otter is a very playful and energetic animal, which makes it an interesting choice for Hermione. That it is also your totem animal may be a message that you really do need more play and less seriousness in your life. In Draco's case, a peregrine falcon is a sleek, fast, and graceful flyer. That may come out of your obsession with Quidditch," he teases. "Go ahead and cast your Patronus."

Draco stands and flings out his arm in a dramatic wave. "Expecto Patronum!" he calls.

Sure enough, a silvery falcon issues from the tip. It does a few elegant loops around the room and lands on one of the chairs before it vanishes.

"I think my Patronus really does reflect my love of flying," observes Draco. "If the animal totem reflects the guidance I need at this time, the Piasa bird said _protect_. Protecting my family and the people I care about is on my mind all the time. That would make sense."

"Will the Piasa bird offer advice on how to protect?" I ask.

"It may," says Professor Littlehorse. "Or it may foreshadow ways to protect. There is no way of knowing. Whatever messages your guides have to offer, you will know when they happen."

"We'll be paying attention," says Draco.

I nod in agreement.

--------------------------------------  
Severus  
Evening

This is one person I had never expected to see again. The last time I laid eyes on Barty Crouch, Jr., he was lying still as a corpse on the stone floor of the chamber used as his detention cell at Hogwarts. He had struggled within the binding ropes, trying get away from the Dementor and prevent the administration of The Kiss.

It was a fight Crouch had no hope of winning. One minute, Crouch was screaming and flailing, trying to kick at the Dementor. It was no more effective than pelting the creature with marshmallows. That loathsome head lowered until its maw hovered less than an inch above Barty's. It inhaled deeply and Crouch went limp.

In the short time I was incarcerated at Azkaban, I never saw what happened to the bodies of those who were Kissed. I have heard stories.

There are some who have lived for as long as twenty years without a soul. If the body is fed and cared for, it will survive for some period of time.

In the days before the Dementors were bound to Azkaban, they conducted their hunts among the general population. For the most part, the monsters could live by stealing the positive emotions of those they encountered. It was unusual for them to take the victim's soul, even though it is their delicacy of choice. As sentient magical creatures, they learned to avoid attracting attention generated by leaving soulless bodies around. Even so, there were occasional incidents when a pack of Dementors would catch someone alone. If that person could not produce a Patronus, the Dementors did not always resist the temptation to suck out the person's soul.

If the victim was found before it starved to death or was killed by exposure to the elements, families would take the body home. Those bodies would be cared for by their families, with tenderness and love. Those were tragic cases.

The Ministry believed a win-win arrangement had been made when they negotiated an alliance with the Dementors. The pack gained victims whose emotions they could take freely. The occasional administration of a government-sanctioned Kiss offered a special treat. The Ministry could claim to have taken a dangerous magical creature and put it to good use.

That was all well and good until the Dementors defected to the Dark Lord.

At Azkaban, I doubt any of the Kissed were given any kind of loving care. More horribly, I have heard that some of the women or the more attractive young men who were Kissed were provided with better quality of care so that the guards might use their bodies.

I do not doubt that Sirius Black would have been among those so used, had he been Kissed on schedule. He was handsome enough and I will not deny that I wanted every horrifying fate I could imagine for him. I fully believed, along with the rest of the Order, that Black had betrayed Lily and made her murder possible. I would have rejoiced at witnessing that Kiss. I would have celebrated the abuse of his body by the guards. To my way of thinking, it would only have been justice for his betrayal. Perhaps such thoughts do not reflect well upon my character, but I have never pretended to be a forgiving soul.

When it was revealed that Pettigrew was the betrayer, I was both relieved and disappointed that Black was not Kissed. I have no use for Black, dead, alive, or any condition in between. All I wanted was some sense of justice for Lily. I know that in truth, Kissing the wrong man would not have provided it.

As I look at the image in the mirror, I can see that Barty looks clean and as if he has been fed. He too could be considered handsome and he is young. Though how anyone could find any sort of attraction to an empty shell is beyond me. I wonder if he is one of those who is subjected to the special attentions of the human guards.

I am in my bedroom at headquarters, sitting on the chair at the desk. I will not sit on the bed. I slept with Hermione in that bed. I touched her and fully expressed my love for her there. I will not contaminate it by watching these proceedings while sitting on that bed.

There is a large rectangular mirror temporarily mounted on the wall above the desk. It is magically connected to an identical mirror on the wall in the bedroom on the third floor. I will be able to see and hear what happens in that room via the connected mirrors.

Mad-Eye Moody follows Crouch into the room. His wand is pointed at Crouch and he is giving the orders for the automaton to walk and then stop in front of the bed. Chester follows. The two of them are discussing the bed. Chester transfigures it into cushioned examination table. Chester leaves the room.

Moody orders Crouch to sit down. Crouch is in the process of complying when Moody orders him to stop.

Crouch is in a position where he is not quite sitting on the examination table. Moody is laughing as Crouch's legs shake with strain in an effort to comply with his order. There is a noise, almost a whimpering issuing from between those slack lips. I am on the verge of sending a message Patronus to Albus to stop the abuse when Moody tells the creature to sit and lay down. I will keep watch. I have no sympathy for what has happened to Crouch, but it serves no useful purpose to torment his body.

It is almost ten minutes before anyone else comes into the room. Albus leads the way. He is followed by two women. The first is dressed in Muggle clothing. She wears spectacles and has curly brown hair that reminds me of Hermione. The second is petite and looks more like a witch than the first. She is wearing a long dark dress and a green quilted jacket that has the look of hand sewing to it. She has long hair, covered by a plain headscarf. The tips of light colored hair extend beyond the scarf.

Following the two women is Gerhardt Boch.

Albus told me he would be here. Gerhardt has volunteered to allow Crouch's Dark Mark to be tested against his Grindelwald Mark. It seems that Albus is not the only one who keeps defectors from the other side on his staff. Gerhardt is too young to have been one of Grindelwald's marked adult followers. He must have been a member of the youth group.

"This is the prisoner with the Dark Mark?" asks the woman with the eyeglasses. She has an American accent. She exchanges looks with the second woman in the long dress.

They have taken in Crouch's appearance. His eyes are open and empty. His jaw is slack. Were he not breathing and his color good, one would think he was dead.

"This is one Bartemius Crouch, Jr.," announces Mad-Eye, with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "Certified Death Eater scum who murdered his own father and put me in a coma for almost nine months so he could impersonate me using Polyjuice. Used the opportunity to kidnap Harry Potter, help revive Voldemort, got student Cedric Diggory killed, and very nearly murdered The Boy Who Lived. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge authorized Barty Crouch to be Kissed by a Dementor as soon as he was captured."

"I don't like the feel of this," says the second woman with an Australian accent. Her hands are on her hips and she is shaking her head.

"I agree with you, Judith," says the American. She looks up at Dumbledore with open suspicion. "When I requested the opportunity to conduct an analysis on someone with an active Dark Mark, I never expected _this_." She looks back down at Crouch, revolted.

"Professor Franks, it was the only way I could obtain someone with an active Dark Mark," replies Albus, drawing himself up to his full height and lowering his voice. He is doing his best to present himself as an ancient wizard of great power and wisdom. "Even I have only so much influence. My contacts at Magical Law Enforcement were unwilling to release a fully conscious and aware Death Eater into my custody."

"How do you know that his Dark Mark is even active?" asks Gerhardt. "Wouldn't Voldemort de-activate the Mark of one who has had his soul sucked out of him?"

I quickly brandish my wand and charm the mirror so that the term _Dark Lord_ will be substituted for _Voldemort_ whenever the latter is uttered. If his attention is going to be drawn through bandying his name about around someone with an active Dark Mark, it will be Crouch's and not mine.

"We're certain that this Mark is still active," declares Moody. "We know from observation that Kissed prisoners can still feel pain. When the Dark Lord does a general summons, the Death Eater prisoners experience a burning in their Marks. We have guards watching them carefully and they notify us when they see Death Eaters with arm pain. That way, we know to be on the alert for some sort of terrorism. When there is a general summons, Barty here has been known to moan like he is in pain," finishes Moody.

The American witch joins the Australian witch at the examination table. Professor Franks is moving her wand over Crouch. The Australian is holding her hand above his head. The two women are making eye contact across the table.

"I have never felt the like before," says Professor Franks, quietly.

"I have," states the Australian.

"Madam Long?" inquires Gerhardt, looking questioningly at the Australian witch.

The Australian witch shakes her head to the negative. She withdraws her hand and looks at Dumbledore accusingly.

"How can you possibly consider this as a fit punishment for any crime? Whatever this man did, how can it justify allowing this to happen?"

"Madam Long," replies Albus, solemnly, "I have sat on the Wizengamot for many years and have consistently opposed the use of Dementors in any capacity. I have stood publicly against allowing The Kiss to be used as a punishment. I believe this form of punishment to be wrong, but have not persuaded enough of the others to that point of view to have it banned."

"With all due respect, ladies," says Moody. "You might not agree with the Ministry's approved punishments, but for someone like this one, the only real alternative was execution. He managed to escape from Azkaban once before and used that opportunity to kill. If we can't keep a wizard like him locked up for the rest of his life, there aren't many alternatives."

"Do you believe execution is an acceptable punishment, Auror Moody?" asks Professor Franks.

"It's cleaner than this," mutters Moody. "I'd prefer it to using The Kiss. The Wizengamot doesn't believe in the death penalty, so we rely on the Dementors instead."

"They prefer one Dark outcome over another?" asks Professor Franks. "There is no lesser of two evils here. Both are equally appalling."

"Maybe you could work on improving the security of your prisons, instead," says Gerhardt.

"Like it or not, today isn't the day we are going to solve British wizarding's problems with convicts who find creative ways to escape our prison," retorts Moody. "If you want to do your analysis, I suggest you get on with it or let me take the prisoner back to Azkaban."

Albus takes full advantage of the suggestion to change the subject.

"I realize that there are questions here with powerful ethical implications," he intones, "Alastor is right when he says we cannot solve it today. There are very real people out there who are helping our side in spite of carrying the Dark Mark on their arms. We need to find a way to neutralize those Marks without having to resort to amputation."

"Doing it in a good cause doesn't make it right," replies Madam Long, nodding towards Crouch. "There is the Darkest magic in place, here."

"I agree that the manner of punishment is wrong," says Albus. "Currently, the Dementors have left Azkaban and are no longer aligned with the Ministry. They have defected to the Dark Lord's side. We do not know how the Dark Lord plans to use them, but the Ministry's use of Dementors would look like a children's tea party compared to what he could do. I am asking you to contribute to our effort to win this war. British wizarding society will certainly not improve if the Dark Lord wins.

The witches exchange glances.

"I'd feel better about this if I could consult with a Rabbi," says Madam Long, quietly. "The laws about these issues are complicated."

"There is no time," replies Professor Franks, her brow furrowed. "This may be the only chance we get."

Madam Long bites her lower lip in indecision, looking down at Barty Crouch. She frowns and looks up at Professor Franks.

"I agree," she says, reluctantly. "Shall we get this done?"

The professor nods.

In short order, a chair is transfigured into a second examination table and placed next to Crouch with just enough space for a person to stand in between them. Gerhardt removes his sweater and rolls up his sleeve, revealing a Grindelwald Mark on his left arm. Professor Franks rolls up the sleeve on Crouch's left arm, exposing the Voldemort Mark.

I have seen sketches of the Grindelwald Mark before, but never seen one in person. It is a classic swastika with the all-seeing eye in the center. Before Grindelwald perverted the use of the swastika, it was seen in the Muggle and wizarding worlds as a symbol of life, power, and good luck. He added the all-seeing eye to represent the connection to his consciousness. The coloring around the pupil of the all-seeing eye is in yellow, confirming that Gerhardt was a member of the Grindelwald Youth. The adult version was blue.

Professor Franks has instructed Gerhardt to lie down. He does so as she moves in between the examination tables. Madam Long is standing at their heads.

"Shall we begin?" she asks Madam Long. The Australian witch nods wordlessly and moves her hands over the heads of the two men on the tables, closing her eyes in concentration. Professor Franks' wand moves slowly across Gerhardt's arm as she takes readings.

Albus has set up a Dictoquill and parchment on top of the bureau. Glowing lights in shades of blue, green, and gold move above the men as the witches murmur spells in voices too soft for me to hear with any clarity.

"How are they doing?" asks Professor Franks.

"Everything is stable," replies Madam Long, opening her eyes. "I'm not picking up any signs of distress."

"I feel fine," grumbles Gerhardt, apparently tired of being ignored as the women talk above him.

"I was about to ask," teases Professor Franks, smiling down at Gerhardt.

"Are you ready to start the resonance between the marks?" asks Madam Long.

"I think so," replies Professor Franks. "Gerhardt, you know the drill. If you feel any discomfort or anything odd, please let me know."

"Will do," he replies.

"In that case," she continues, "We are ready to start. The Dictoquill may begin recording."

I watch closely as Professor Franks moves her wand over Gerhardt's Grindelwald Mark. She is reciting spells designed to reveal the layers of magic within the Grindelwald Mark. As she does, sigils, letters, and numbers form in the air. Madam Long reads them aloud and they are recorded by the Dictoquill.

The lights fade and the two witches communicate without speaking as they look at each other. Madam Long nods assent to a silent question.

It appears to me that they are communicating via Legilimens. They do not seem to need to incant the spell, so they must have been doing so for many years.

Professor Franks turns her attention to Barty Crouch. Her wand movements become very precise, but also amazingly fast. She is incanting rapidly, moving swiftly from one layer of magic to the next as more symbols appear above Gerhardt's mark. Madam Long is again reading them aloud to be recorded. Her hands are steady above the two men's heads as she continues to monitor their physical and magical conditions.

I realize that I am sitting on the edge of my seat and gripping the desk so tightly that my knuckles are white. My face is close the glass surface of the mirror as I watch the details of the tableau before me. I cannot interpret all of the symbols appearing over the Grindelwald Mark, but it appears that the resonance is working.

This is remarkable magic of great sophistication and subtlety. These two women are in the process of determining the magical content of the Dark Mark through the resonance they have established with the Grindelwald Mark. Crouch's body is showing no sign of discomfort, so the resonance has not alerted the Dark Lord to the fact that someone is attempting to analyze the Dark Mark.

I did not think it was possible.

I cannot help but marvel at the magical skill displayed before me. Even Albus is visibly impressed with what he sees. Moody is watching in amazement. Even a brute such as he can recognize High Magic when it is right there before his eyes.

"How are they?" asks Professor Franks.

"They're doing well," replies Madam Long.

"I think we have what we need. Shall we finish?" asks Franks.

Madam Long nods and moves her hands in a clockwise motion above the two men's heads. She stops and brings her hands together in an almost prayer-like manner. Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she draws out a wand which has been unseen until now. She moves so that she is standing opposite Professor Franks, their wands held over Barty Crouch's unmoving body.

They incant again, verbalizing the same spells like a well-practiced Greek chorus. Their graceful wand movements are mirror images of each other.

Shifting positions, they now stand across from each other as they incant their spells above Gerhardt's body.

I am not entirely certain, but the wand movements over Gerhardt appeared to be different than those over Barty Crouch.

They finish simultaneously.

The two women look tired after their considerable magical exertion. Professor Franks helps Gerhardt to sit up.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a strong drink," announces Gerhardt.

"Allow me to offer all of you hospitality," says Albus. "I will summon our house-elf."

"Unless your house-elf keeps a Kosher kitchen," replies Madam Long, "I'm afraid I can't accept. This will do for now." Madam Long conjures glasses of water which float into open hands. The two women drink deeply and then conjure one more glass. Professor Franks raises Barty Crouch to a sitting position and Madam Long holds the glass to his lips.

Moody gives the order to _drink _and the glass empties. Madam Franks lays Barty down.

"What is your opinion about the Marks?" asks Albus.

The two witches look at each other, more silent communication happening between them.

"It appears that the Voldemort Mark is a derivative of the Grindelwald Mark, just as we expected," Professor Franks begins. "We will do a thorough analysis of our findings tonight. Over the next few weeks, we should be able to have a very good idea of how the Dark Mark is composed. We already know how to magically neutralize the Grindelwald Mark. With some modifications, we believe we will be able to neutralize the Dark Mark."

"That is excellent news," declares Albus. "Our need for a means to do this is urgent. We believe that significant events will occur before summer that may make it necessary."

"I cannot promise," replies Professor Franks, "But we will do our best to have a neutralization procedure within a month."

"I cannot thank you enough," says Albus, bowing to the ladies.

"Before you thank us any further," says Professor Franks, "There is something you need to know."

Madame Long looks at Albus intently, as if she is trying to read him.

"You have done something to Mr. Crouch," says Albus. "Have you not?"

"We have," says Madam Long. "When I said earlier that I had encountered a magic like this before, I didn't explain myself. That was by design."

Professor Franks looks at her friend, questioningly. Madam Long nods in return.

"Even Julia does not know this and I would prefer not to remember it at all," she states. She looks at Moody, accusingly. "Do you understand the Dark Magic that is at work here? Do you really understand what it means?"

"I have no idea what you are getting at," snaps Moody.

"It is some of the Darkest magic I have ever encountered and I have felt this only once before," she challenges back. "Do you understand that Dementors are created beings rather than natural ones?"

"Every school child knows that," says Moody with a snort.

"Mere school children are not told how they were created," interrupts Albus, sighing. "They were human once, just as Manticores were. Thousands of years ago, there was a blood feud between two wizarding families. One family was destroyed except for a single survivor.

"He was a brilliant healer, but was driven mad by a curse from his enemies. He survived long enough to create a plague potion and used it along with a curse. The family of his enemy was bespelled so that they would never again know beauty or love. The plague changed that family and only them. No one would marry into the family because of the curse, so they became inbred. Within a few generations, they were no longer human.

"Their lives became a long nightmare. They found that they could find pleasure or experience beauty by consuming those things from their neighbors' emotions. Within a few more generations, they learned to take the souls of those they found most beautiful or loving. Anything that felt good among humans became irresistibly attractive. Thus we have Dementors today."

"Have you ever analyzed the magic they use in their Kiss?" demands Madam Long.

"I have not," replies Albus. "I do not know if anyone has ever done so."

"It is very close to the magic used to create an Inferius," says Madam Long. She looks at Albus and then to Moody, as if challenging them to disagree. "The magic that keeps this soulless being moving and breathing has only minor differences from the magic that creates the Walking Undead."

I am stunned. I did not know this and I have made a serious and what I thought was a comprehensive study of the Dark Arts. In looking at the expressions on Albus' and Moody's faces, I do not believe they knew this either.

"How do you know this?" asks Albus.

"Your people are not the only ones who have known troubled times," replies Madam Long, looking terribly sad. "I would prefer not to ever experience such times again where I need to have knowledge of how Inferi are made so that the magic can be undone. Slavery comes in many forms, Professor Dumbledore. Your allies who carry the Dark Mark are one kind of slave. In the times of my grandparents and parents, they had family members and friends who were forced into concentration camps with tattooed numbers on their arms. They were slaves. There are still plenty of people who are bought and sold in places around the world. The Inferi are slaves, as are those Kissed by a Dementor.

"Your government represents you and the will of your people," continues Madam Long, her voice resonant with belief. "A government that can use a Dementor's Kiss as an accepted punishment is sponsoring the most abhorrent Dark magic imaginable. You would send someone to your Azkaban for life as punishment for use of an Unforgiveable, but you allow this abomination to occur. There is no classification for a sin as heinous as this," she says, pointing to Crouch.

"It is up to you to do something about your government's choices," says Professor Franks. "However, we could not leave without doing something for Bartemius Crouch."

"What have you done?" demands Moody. "He is a prisoner of our government. You have no right to tamper with him."

"You and your government seem to believe that it's perfectly acceptable to tamper with a prisoner," Madam Long points out. "You didn't know what our resonance procedure entailed. For all you knew, it could have been fatal."

"We had your assurances that it was not," interjects Albus. "I would not have permitted it otherwise."

"So, you think you have granted mercy to this prisoner because we did not kill him in the process of examining his Voldemort Mark?" asks Professor Franks. "Would causing this mindless thing torturous levels of pain cross over the line of what is acceptable?"

Neither Moody nor Albus answer.

"Perhaps it's time for you and your government to examine your consciences about what is right and what is wrong," presents Madam Long. "It's past time to take a look at what you are doing. If your conscience can truly allow this to happen, something is seriously lacking in your society."

"A new moral compass is badly needed," adds Professor Franks.

"Obviously, we can't undo what's been done here," says Madam Long. "We have done what we could to return this being to what should have been his natural state years ago."

"What do you mean?" insists Moody.

"From what we detected within his body, the Dark Magic that causes this shell to simulate being alive will begin to unravel on its own within ten years," explains Madam Long, shaking her head.

"We took a few of those threads and began the unraveling process," says Professor Franks. "When the Dark Magic unravels completely in a few months time, this husk will die. It's what should have happened when he was Kissed, except that the Dementor inserted the Dark Magic that keeps the basic life support going. It's an artificial means of supporting the soulless shell of what was once a human being. When the Dark Magic unweaves and drains from this body, it will return to its natural state."

"So you took it on yourselves to execute him," says Moody, triumphantly.

"He was executed the second the Dementor consumed his soul," interjects Madam Long. "After that heartbeat, the Dark Magic was inserted to keep his heart beating."

"Do not misunderstand us, Auror Moody," says Professor Franks. "Judith and I accept the responsibility for our actions. When I return home, I will have many long talks with my minister about my own spiritual state and the meaning of my actions."

"Just as I will have such discussions with my Rabbi," says Madam Long, solemnly. "I believe that our actions were consistent with what I know of the laws of my faith. Do not misunderstand me, we didn't want to do this. At the same time, we could not in good conscience leave what was once a human being full of Dark and unholy magic when we could do something about it."

Albus raises his head from the attitude of contemplation he has demonstrated throughout most of this discussion.

"Madam Long and Professor Franks," he says with a respectful bow. "You have left an old wizard heartily ashamed and with much food for thought. I have long felt that the use of Dementors as guards at Azkaban and as executioners via The Kiss to be terribly wrong. I did not understand just how wrong it is until you explained it."

Albus holds out a hand to Professor Franks and she accepts it, gazing up at the much taller wizard.

"I give you my word that I shall redouble my efforts to ban such uses of Dementors permanently. I have no solution as to what to do with the Dementors as a species, but I shall be giving it a great deal of thought along with my fellow members of the Wizengamot. I promise to raise this issue again and again until we have resolution."

"Thank you for your assurances," replies Professor Franks, shaking his hand.

Albus offers a formal bow to Madam Long. She returns it with a bow of her head.

"Perhaps the British wizarding world has not sought proper spiritual counsel in a long time," says Albus. "Too many of us have believed that we had all of the answers without it. It is high time we looked to that which is far greater than ourselves for guidance."

"Human kind invariably stumbles and falls when we fail to do so," replies Madam Long.

"Forgive me if I don't join the love fest," grumbles Moody. "As long as my prisoner survives for a few months so I can't be blamed for anything, I'll be satisfied."

Madam Long and Professor Franks opt not to reply to Moody's provocation.

I do not need to see anything more. A flick of my wand and the mirror is just a mirror.

What I have seen this evening is a revelation. I have much to think about, too.

-------------------------  
Author's notes

The Piasa bird is based on a legend of the Illini tribe. The original painting was on the cliff wall of the Mississippi River north of what would one day be Alton, Illinois. Father Jaques Marquette described the painting in 1673 during his exploration of the Mississippi River. Sometime in the early 1800's, European settlers destroyed the painting because they associated it with pagan practices. In 1998, it was repainted on a cliff just north of Alton.

I've taken liberties with the Piasa bird. The Illini tribe considered the bird to be a man eating predator. I've made him a protector, instead.

-------------

Duj, an outstanding author who is known to many of the readers of this story, has very generously consulted on the character of Judith Long. As a witch who is of the Orthodox Jewish faith, Madam Long struggles with the question of what is the right thing to do for the shell that was once Barty Crouch, Jr. It is important that readers understand that the correct thing to do would be to consult with a Rabbi about how Torah law would be applied to such a case. In this specific situation, the character knew that there would never be another chance to begin the unraveling of the Dark Magic that sustained the soulless shell of Barty Crouch in a state simulating life. She and Professor Franks took action in the belief that it was the right thing to do.

It is my interpretation that the body of a person who has been soul sucked by a Dementor is essentially a zombie. It is animated only by the Dark Magic inhabiting the body. In no way should the actions of Professor Franks and Madam Long be taken as representing Torah law or be viewed as an endorsement of euthanasia. They were releasing a body that was very like an Inferius, so that it could return to its natural state.

-----------------------

A few readers have asked how long the story is going to be. I had projected it out to 95 chapters, based on my outline from a year or so ago. Since that time, the characters have hijacked the story. Remus wants a certain issue resolved. Draco wants a particular scene. Jean wants to get even for… oops. Hermione wants to have sex again and Severus agrees. Severus Snape is the bossiest of the bunch. You wouldn't believe all the stuff he wants included. I suspect that "Looking for Magic" will hit one hundred chapters before it is done. Maybe a bit longer?

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Many thanks to my reviewers: Septentrion, o0morgana0o, Instar, Victoria Plum, Snakegirl-sprocket, Droxy, Klschmidt, Martyjeannine, Twrecks, Jade2099, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Excessivelyperky, Wynnleaf, Nottbook, Oscarxena, Latinachikita, Persevero, Lipasnape, Lyndie578, MollysSister, Curikitten, Koliber, Satay, Padslet, Rinny08, Sylphides, Yapyap, Ebbe06, Arime Setta, Sunsethill, Periwinkle, Lovethelab, Keske, Giggleginny, Firestormpwr, Feenix, Shiverrus, Pickles87, Maddie50, Andi-Scribbles, Notwritten, Sweety-Pie5445, Bill, Nirtak.Enaile, Lady Slone, Laurenke1, Duj, Erytha, FarmerLiz, DarqueHart, Magicdaisy, Quiet-mg, MysticSong1978, Kirien, Lilsnape, Squiggles.Candi, Princessfiona, KimJo, Seth7, hpfanwenday, Susannajulia, Fern, and Mugglemomof3


	87. Chapter 87

I still don't own this.

Thank you to Julia for fitting this in during the busiest season of the year. I would also like to thank Jocemum for applying her technical expertise to the medical aspects of this chapter. There is a mystery person or two who provided input into this chapter. Thanks, everyone.

Wow. Katyes has translated 76 chapters of Looking for Magic into German!

--------------------------------  
May 21st, 1999  
Trans Atlantic Mail Communication  
Draco to Narcissa and Lucius

Dear Mother and Father

I trust this missive finds both of you well, with Mother completely recovered from the virus that you came down with when you visited Chicago. I knew that your upset stomach was due to more than just long distance Portkeying. I hope that you will be able to return to your regular routine, soon. The ladies of your book club must have been disappointed that you were unable to host your regular monthly meeting.

My workload at university is keeping me busy. I have three term papers due next week. Hogwarts has more than prepared me for this kind of writing. American students do not write essays nearly as often as the students at Hogwarts. End of term examinations will be held during the last week of May. I anticipate finding them challenging. With all of the revising I must do, I will be unable to come home until after the examinations are over.

The results of the interdisciplinary team projects competition were announced today. I am pleased to report that our hair care products did very well. We ranked higher than any other first or second year teams and came fifth overall. Considering that there were over 150 projects submitted, we did well.

One project that was placed higher included developing a charmed plastic covering that allows small Muggle electrical devices to work in locations with moderately strong magical fields. It is not surprising that it would do well in the judging given the way American wizards mix with Muggles. Anita's brother, Adam, was a leader on that team. I suspect Digital Magic may have an interest in this research. I have made a special effort to discuss the project with Adam and hope to have more information about how this works. If this product can be mass produced, it would further the integration of technology into the wizarding world.

We may have issues with the whole notion of allowing technology into the wizarding world, but it will certainly happen in the United States and in other countries that are open to the idea. We must be prepared for that reality. I will follow this development closely and include it in my next report.

Another team created a new method of charming flying carpets. They modified a Nain carpet made with wool and silk. It can safely hold up to six people without losing stability in strong headwinds. This would make it much safer than the current styles on the market, which could reopen the British market. I am enclosing their brochure and contact information in case you want to consider investing in their venture.

The first place winner was a team that has developed a successful treatment for Spattergroit. Although I am disappointed that we didn't take first place, I cannot feel too bad when we lost to a team that discovered a treatment for a fatal disease.

Things are progressing well with the renovations in the apartment building. The contractor discovered some plumbing problems in the cellar. I set aside enough galleons for the unexpected in my business plan, so I am still running below budget.

My selection of service-elves has worked out well. Dorothy is an excellent cook, as you could tell from the Beef Wellington we had while you were here. Edgar has turned out to be very capable of handling most of the maintenance around the building. I would prefer to own them outright, but until the day the United States has a more appropriate wizarding government, I shall make do.

Because the enslavement spells have been removed, the service-elves behave in ways we would find offensive. They speak in a forthright manner and show more initiative than they should. If they make a mistake in their work or fail to please, they don't even punish themselves. It is very strange to have an elf apologize for an error and not even bang his head against the floor or offer to iron his ears.

I cannot tell you how excited I am at the thought of being accepted as an adult into our circle of friends. Severus has contacted me and we will begin meeting after my term is over. I am determined to do well with my rite of passage and demonstrate my worthiness to be accepted by the members of our social circle.

You may wish to have some conversation about my wearing a badge of membership. Wizards in the United States do not wear robes. Dress here is very casual and I would prefer not to flaunt my status. It would not be understood here. Without it, I am able to integrate myself into social groups where I can learn more about American wizarding culture and other useful information. This could change, if I were to wear an obvious sign of belonging.

My courtship of Anita proceeds apace. I believe the time is coming when both of you should meet Anita and her parents. This is just as important in the process of courting here as it is in England. What would you think of scheduling an opportunity for you to call on them here in the United States sometime this summer? That could be followed by an invitation for them to visit us at the Manor in late summer. Those would be necessary steps before a formal offer of alliance between our families could be negotiated.

When our relationship is formalized, it will open many doors for me. I will be able to make contact with the most powerful families in the United States. Such contacts will be useful to us in the long run.

You asked about the mudblood. She has said that she does not intend to return to England until after term is over. You already know that she lives with the Weasleys and is being courted by their oldest son. I appreciate that our friends have agreed to express their interest in her when she is in England, rather than here. Any unpleasantness would spill over into my relationship with Anita, which is not in our best interests.

I look forward to hearing from you. A letter from home is the brightest part of my day.

Your devoted son,  
Draco

-----------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
Draco to Severus

Severus,

I wrote to Mum and Dad today.

Actually, I wrote the letter for Aunt Bellatrix. I'm sure she'll read it before they do.

It is so full of bullshit that I considered whether a sanitizing spell might be necessary to remove the offensive odor before the postal service would accept it.

Write to me when you get a chance. I need to know that you are all right, that Mum and Dad are all right and that there is sanity somewhere in the world.

Okay. Maybe the last part was too much to hope for.

Draco

-----------------------------------------  
Severus  
Afternoon

I am looking over Ellen's shoulder as she is looking down at the clutch of Runespoor eggs. There are nine of the small leathery off-white eggs.

Jean is standing across from me at the laboratory table. Potter is next to her, watching closely. He had the job of administering a fresh dose of Happy-Sleepy potion to the Runespoor and then retrieving the eggs from their nest in the sand of the large cage. Even with the Runespoor under the influence of Happy-Sleepy, he opted to levitate the eggs out of the cage rather than risk reaching inside to get them.

Remus is watching from his position halfway down the stairs, well away from all of the snakes.

A werewolf who is also a chicken.

"What are you doing?" asks Potter, curious.

"I'm looking for magic," murmurs Ellen, her focus on the business before her.

Ellen is conducting a magical analysis on the eggs. Since the female Runespoor did not have access to a male Runespoor at the proper moment, the eggs will be infertile. Even an infertile egg should have a trace of a magical signature to them. If they do not, it means the Happy-Sleepy potion has suppressed the Runespoor's magic during the egg formation cycle.

Everything we have done to create a weapon against the Dark Lord is dependent on the ability of the potion to suppress his magic.

Ellen is reciting a series of spells over the eggs. Glowing letters, numbers, and sigils form above them. If I am interpreting them correctly…

Ellen is silent, but her lips are moving as she reads the magical signs floating before her. She breaks into a huge smile.

"Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen," she announces, in a delighted tone. "These Runespoor eggs are _totally_ lacking in any magical qualities whatsoever!"

I usually avoid smiling because it shows how crooked my teeth are, but I cannot help it. Ellen turns and gives me a hug, which I will not deny returning. Jean has grabbed Potter and is guiding him through a polka around the lab table and laughing. Remus is applauding.

We have succeeded!

"No, Harry," insists Jean, stopping in the dance. "You have to put the hop in between the steps. You're stomping on my foot."

Apparently dancing is not Potter's forte.

"They didn't teach this in Gryffindor," exclaims Potter. "We only learned to waltz."

"You should have let the Hat put you into Slytherin," lectures Jean. "Proper dancing lessons are mandatory."

Potter is giving me a look as if he expects me to break into a dance. That will not be happening, even though I am an acceptable dancer.

I realize Potter is looking past me.

"Holy shit!" he yells, his eyes wide. "The Runespoor cage is empty!"

That brings all celebration to an instantaneous halt. The Runespoor may be under the influence of Happy-Sleepy, but it still has three heads with a set of very poisonous fangs in each one. We all stop and look carefully around the cellar.

Potter is looking at the pen of snakes and hissing something that may translate into 'Here, snakey, snakey.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of orange on the floor to my right. In an instant, I point my wand only to see the orange slithering towards me faster than I can move. I will not be able to stop it before it reaches me.

"_Accio Runespoor_!" shouts Remus from the stairway.

The three-headed snake is intercepted on its straight-line course towards me and flies into Remus' outstretched hand. He catches it with his left hand in the middle of the snake's body, leaving the three heads free to attack. His wand flies out of his right hand as he tries to protect his face from the striking heads.

"_Stupefy!_" I shout, aiming my wand at the Runespoor.

The red light hits the snake in Remus' hand. The werewolf collapses unconscious down the rest of the stairs, caught in the wash of the spell. The Runespoor falls from his hand and lies limp on the cellar floor.

Ellen rushes to Remus' side and kneels on the floor beside him. Jean joins her, while Potter picks up the Stupefied Runespoor and puts it back in the cage, securing the lid with extra charms.

Ellen is moving her wand over Remus. His right hand is swelling where he was bitten by the Runespoor.

I open the cabinet where the snake bite antidote is stored and select two vials. I do not know if a werewolf will require a stronger dose.

Jean has done a cushioning charm on the cellar floor beneath Remus. She must have transfigured a towel into a pillow and is tucking it beneath his head. She is in the midst of transfiguring another towel into a blanket.

Ellen reaches out her hand and accepts a vial of antidote from me. She is magically infusing the potion directly from the vial and into the vein in his arm, above the bitten hand.

"Fortunately," she mutters, "It is difficult to poison a werewolf. Given that the Runespoor's magic has been suppressed for weeks, the venom is probably not any more poisonous than an adder's. Otherwise, we might be in trouble."

She picks up Remus' right hand and examines it.

"It looks like he took at least three strikes here," she says to herself. She looks up at Jean, who is holding the blanket. "Go ahead and cover him up," instructs Ellen. "He'll probably have the chills when I revive him."

Jean hands me one end of the blanket and I tuck it in around his feet and legs as she pulls it up against his chest.

Ellen is monitoring Remus' heart rate, which appears to be rapid. I can see beads of sweat on his face.

"I'm going to bring him around," says Ellen, moving her wand. "_Rennervate_."

Remus opens his eyes and looks confused for a moment before looking panicked.

"The Runespoor?" he asks, his body jerking as he moves to get up.

"Back in its cage," answers Potter. "The Stupefy knocked it out."

"Lie still," orders Ellen. "I've administered the antidote to the venom, but it needs a little time to work. It looks like you took a bite from each head before Severus Stupefied you and it."

"I apologize for that," I explain. "I could not hit the snake without hitting you, too."

"Under the circumstances," replies Remus, blearily shaking his head, "I don't think I mind in the least."

"How do you feel?" asks Ellen.

"I'm cold, but I'm kind of sweaty and my chest feels funny," says Remus, lifting his right hand to look at it.

Ellen intercepts it along the way and pushes it back down.

"I want to keep your hand below your heart," she explains. "You've been given the antidote, but I don't want any more venom to move from the site of the bites than absolutely necessary. Your chest feels funny because your heart rate is up. Feeling chilled, but sweating is also an effect of the venom."

"My hand feels like the skin is ready to pop," Remus complains.

"It's swelled up," replies Ellen. "It will go back down to normal, but may take a little time to do it. Right now, I want you to lie quietly and let the antidote work its way through your system. Because of your Lycanthropy, the venom would probably not be fatal, but it is certainly going to make you feel ill."

Apparently the snake has revived, because Potter is standing over the cage hissing at it. The snake is moving and hissing back. Potter shakes his head and walks over to the rest of us who are huddled around Remus as he lies on the floor.

"I owe all of you a huge apology," says Potter, looking genuinely contrite. "Especially you, Remus. I should have realized how smart this Runespoor is. She figured out how the latch on the cage worked and between her three heads, managed to get it open and slither her way out. She doesn't really understand that her eggs are infertile. She was angry about us taking them, plus the whole Happy-Sleepy thing. Professor Snape was the closest, so she went after him.

"I'm really sorry that you got bit," he says to Remus, hanging his head in regret.

"Let's just call it even for the time I chased you across the grounds of Hogwarts during the full moon," replies Remus, with a sigh. He raises his head enough to look down the length of his body to his hand. "My hand is starting to look like a thigh."

"You chased Harry as a werewolf?" asks Jean, looking back and forth between Remus and Potter.

"It's a long story," answer Potter and Remus simultaneously.

"Was this when you were the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" asks Ellen, looking puzzled.

"It's not his fault," decries Potter. "There was a lot going on at the time and we weren't paying attention to the status of the moon."

"I think that when Riddle put the curse on the job, he also cursed it so that the DADA instructor would always try to kill Harry," mutters Remus.

"Riddle cursed the job during the 1940's," answers Potter, shaking his head. "My Mum and Dad weren't born then, so I really don't think that was part of it."

"Wait a minute," demands Jean. "Are you saying that all of the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructors tried to kill you?"

"The others did," says Potter, sounding stubborn and shaking his hand as if to wave the topic away. "Quirrell, Lockhart, Crouch, Umbridge, Carrow, and DaVinci tried to on purpose. I think that Professor Prince was trying to teach me a lesson about non-verbal spells, so that was an accident. I did get serious about Occlumency after that. Bill didn't try to kill me at all."

"By the 1990's," I explain, "Albus had run through almost all of the Order members who would even consider taking the job. We figured out how to break the curse after Professor Weasley started."

"I think that the only reason Albus ended up hiring me was because Sirius was on the loose and he wanted extra protection for Harry," sighs Remus. "Albus figured I knew all of the ways Sirius might try to break into the castle."

"That's not true," insists Potter. "You, Bill, and Prince were the best DADA instructors any of us had during my seven years. It's a shame that the Dark Lord caught Prince and killed him. I'm glad that Bill got the job, but Prince would have been a really great teacher if he could have stayed on."

"I agree," I reply. "Professor Prince had great potential, but had the phenomenally bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when the Dark Lord did away with him."

"How are you feeling?" asks Ellen, looking down at Remus.

"Better," says Remus. "I'm not as cold and I've stopped sweating."

"Your heart rate is back to normal," says Ellen. "I would say that it has been long enough so that the antidote has neutralized most of the venom in your system. I think it should be safe to move you upstairs to your bedroom." Ellen looks around. "Which of you has the best hovering charm?"

"That would be Severus," states Jean.

"Professor Snape," nods Potter.

"I will certainly oblige," I reply. The others back off and I cast a hovering charm over Remus, wrapping Jean's transfigured blanket around him. Ellen precedes us up the stairs.

----------------------------  
Hermione  
Afternoon

Otter is over at the edge of the stream. He just climbed out of the water. Water droplets sparkle on the tips of his whiskers as they catch the sunlight through the thick covering of leaves overhead. He looks up at me and scampers to my feet, welcoming me by rearing up on his hind legs and putting his front paws on my legs.

Otter refuses to let me pick him up, but I know he likes me in his own way. Which is why he left wet paw prints on my jeans. He gives himself a good vigorous shake and spatters drops of water all over my front.

I'd swear the little dickens is laughing at me.

Using the technique that he and I have worked out, I think of the first memory I have decided to hide. With the image clearly in my mind, I mentally project the scene out in front of me. Otter shakes and shimmies again and water droplets fly off of his fur and hit the memory. The water expands and runs over the surface until it is a bubble of water around my memory. Rearing up on his back legs, Otter catches the bubble in his teeth. Dragging the bubble, he bounds his way to the stream and dives in. The water bubble blends in with the rest of the water in the stream and disappears.

Otter and I repeat the procedure six more times. That is the last of the memories I have decided to hide for now. All of my interactions with Severus since I have been an active member of the Order are in the care of my otter guide. He's the most important person I would need to protect, if I were captured.

I still have access to my memories. This is simply a way to tell Otter what he needs to hide if I am interrogated.

According to Professor Littlehorse and Draco, that's the big difference between European Occlumency and Di'nes'ih, as they call it in Navajo. Occlumency takes the actual memory and puts it in a symbolic place in the mind where it cannot be retrieved, except by the individual himself. It works unless the Legilimens who goes after it is powerful enough to break the mind of the person he is reading, With Di'nes'ih, the totem animal becomes the guardian of the memory. Unless the mind reader can fight the totem animal and destroy it, the memory is protected.

That's why this is so brilliant. Users of Legilimency are unlikely to have any kind of animal spirit guide. It takes an animal spirit guide to fight another animal spirit guide. Probing the mind of someone trained in Di'nes'ih, the barrier created by the totem animal won't even be recognized for what it is. The Legilimens certainly won't have a totem animal of his own to send in to attack it.

I'd just like to see someone send in their totem animal to attack the Piasa bird that is helping Draco. According to what we read about it, the Piasa bird is a vicious man eater.

Is it too much to hope for that Voldemort might try to probe Draco and have his mind attacked by the Piasa bird? One predator attacking another? I can just see the Piasa bird kicking back after a victory and picking the shreds of Voldemort's consciousness out of his teeth with that pointed tail of his.

I suppose it wouldn't actually work that way. Sigh.

It's time for me to finish this exercise. Otter is swimming around in his babbling brook, diving and playing in the water. I walk to the edge of the stream and hold out both hands. I think of the great affection I hold for this wonderful animal who is looking after me. I send those feelings out of my fingertips towards Otter. Otter rolls over on his back and basks in the warmth of the emotion I've sent him.

I lower my hands and Otter rolls back onto his stomach. He gives me one more look and dives beneath the surface. I turn and walk back into the forest.

Which brings me out of the trance.

I am sitting, cross-legged on the living room floor of apartment 3-C. Draco is sitting in the same posture, right across from me. Professor Littlehorse forms the apex of our triangle. Draco and Professor Littlehorse are watching me, so I guess I am the last to come out of trance. There is no drumming anymore. Draco and I are proficient enough at going into a trance that we can simply do it through breathing and relaxing.

"Are you ready?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"Yes," I reply, confidently.

Professor Littlehorse looks at me intently and says; "Yo'di Bilh'la'di."

His eyes burn into mine. It is a very strange feeling to have someone else in your mind. There is a sense of another presence, other thoughts. He is looking for specific things. Right now, he is looking at Professor Dumbledore during the Leaving Feast at the end of our first year when he awarded Gryffindor the points that put us ahead of Slytherin and allowed us to win the House Cup. Now, he's searching for intimate memories. He's watching Adam kiss me after the Pearl Jam concert. Adam is attempting to slip his hand underneath my jumper and I wriggle away. The professor is hunting for memories about the Order. Some of those are Fidelius protected. Others are hidden by Otter. He looks and sees me watching Professor Dumbledore picking sautéed green peppers out of his beard after eating one of the Italian beef sandwiches I made for the Order meeting last summer.

He's gone.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to get my balance back.

I open my eyes and Professor Littlehorse is smiling at me.

"Very good, Hermione," he says. "First, I looked for Headmaster Dumbledore and was only able to find very innocent memories of him in the big dining room at Hogwarts. Then, I looked for memories of you with boyfriends. The ones I saw were with the Bill Weasley and Adam Schuler. I looked for memories of occasions when you were with members of the Order of the Phoenix. I saw you cooking for them and serving food.

"From what I was able to see," continues Professor Littlehorse, "You do nothing important for the Order other than prepare food. You remember Dumbledore best from when you attended school, rather than in the present.

"I believe the truth is very different from that," he says, looking pleased. "However, you have put too many memories of Bill Weasley into hiding. No one would believe that you two have an intimate relationship based on the memories I have seen. I suggest you bring some of them back out."

I smile back. We're not supposed to reveal anything verbally until Draco and I both pass this last test. I'm unsure of what to do about the lack of intimate memories between Bill and I. We're not physical because we're not in a romantic relationship. It's more like having an affectionate and protective big brother.

"I did not perceive the presence of Otter at all," continues Professor Littlehorse. "I did look for him, but did not ask my totem animal to participate. Mine really could harm yours and we don't want that to happen. I think it is safe to say a European Occlumens wouldn't find the memories Otter is hiding for you."

"That's great!" I announce, happily.

Professor Littlehorse shifts position so that he is looking at Draco.

"Ready?" he asks. Draco nods. "Yo'di Bilh'la'di," says Professor Littlehorse.

The two of them appear to be staring at each other. They do this, unmoving for several minutes. Draco starts to sway and close his eyes.

Their session is over.

"I am very pleased, Draco," says Professor Littlehorse. "A European Legilimens will not find your memories. I am especially pleased that your Piasa bird was more than ready to take on my totem animal."

"You tried to have your totem animal fight Draco's to get to the memories?" I ask.

"It didn't get as far as a fight," says Draco.

"I simply had my totem animal enter Draco's mind," explains Professor Littlehorse. "There was no intent for my totem to attack Draco's. I wanted them to meet and see how the Piasa bird would react."

"The Piasa bird made it clear that it was going to defend me, if it had to," says Draco, proudly.

It isn't considered polite to reveal someone else's totem animal, if the person hasn't revealed it himself. I am aching with curiosity about what the Professor's totem is, but can't ask.

"Since we've both passed your probe," says Draco, "Can Hermione and I talk about things we would need to hide?"

"I think that would be safe, but my opinion isn't the last word on the subject" says Professor Littlehorse. "I will notify the parties who arranged the lessons. I suspect they will want to test both of you themselves before making a decision about what to tell you or what you should be able to tell each other."

Finally. I suspect Severus will be the one to conduct the test. I don't think Severus would agree to let Draco know about our relationship, but it will make it easier if Draco knows that Severus is more than Voldemort's spy within the Order.

--------------------------------  
Severus  
Evening

Ellen had to leave to report for duty at St. Mungo's. I am very grateful that there has been no backlash on her career for the period of time when the Aurors believed she may have had something to do with the murders of Healers Spencer and Powell or the theft of the fertility potion. Regina Woldscott's face is on wanted posters throughout wizarding Britain. It is publicly known that Madam Woldscott, formerly the ward clerk on the Curse Reversal Unit, is suspected of complicity in the crimes.

Jean is sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Dobby was here and served us tea and excellent homemade shortbread.

"The poultice you made for Remus' hand is working very well," she says, leaning back comfortably in the chair. "The swelling is down. As he describes it, his hand no longer looks like a thigh."

That is good news. Not that I will give anyone the satisfaction of knowing it.

"Is he up to visitors?" I inquire.

"He may be asleep," she replies. "Remus was rather drowsy after I checked on him. Are you taking the night shift?"

"I am going to stay here tonight and return to Hogwarts before breakfast tomorrow," I reply. "I will check on him intermittently. Potter and Weasley are working the night shift and will be here in the morning."

"He should be largely recovered by then," observes Jean, tapping her fingers on her teacup. She seems to be deciding whether or not to say something. I suspect I know what it is about.

"Yes," I reply, anticipating her question. "Remus Lupin, a man who is terrified of snakes, Accioed a Runespoor rather than let it bite me. He took at least three snake bites before I Stupefied the damned thing and Lupin in the process."

"He may be terrified of snakes," observes Jean, "But he didn't let it stop him from taking action when his friends were in danger. I think that makes him rather like you in that respect."

"Pfft." I dismiss the notion with a wave of my hand.

"You would have done the same for him," says Jean, emphatically. "Hell's bells, you would have done the same thing for Potter and he annoys the heck out of you."

"Do not make me into something I am not," I say, shaking my head.

Jean rises and prepares to leave. I stand with the intent of walking her into the backyard to the place by the bushes where the Anti-Apparition wards end.

I open the kitchen door for her. Walking past me, Jean turns and faces me.

"You're a better person than you give yourself credit for," she says, in that teasing tone of voice she often takes with me. "One of the reasons I'm leaving now is so that you will have a chance to talk to him in private."

I sigh dramatically.

"If you persist in such delusions," I huff in return, "I shall have to retroactively kick you out of Slytherin."

"If such a thing were possible," she laughs in return, "It would have been done already." Jean goes up on tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. She disappears into the night.

It is time to check on the snakes. I walk down the stairs to the cellar. My first stop is at the Runespoor cage. The snake is coiled into a surprisingly neat pile of orange and gold bands of scales that divide neatly into three parts at the head. It appears to be sleeping on its magically heated rock. I take readings which indicate that the Runespoor is fundamentally healthy, if rather stoned.

The four snakes that are addicted to the Happy-Sleepy potion are lolling in their pen, separated from the other non-magical snakes. We are monitoring them carefully so that we might understand the effects of the potion over time.

The larger pen once contained dozens of the snakes. Now, it is down to about ten. Last weekend, Potter took the others and released them in the fields where he originally found them. We do not need them, given the potion's success with the four snakes and the Runespoor.

If all continues to go well, the rest of the snakes will be released into the wild. The four that are addicted to Happy-Sleepy and the Runespoor will stay in captivity for the rest of their lives. We stole that choice from them in order to find a weapon that would work against the Dark Lord.

I keep thinking about consequences and choices. Ever since I saw those American and Australian witches analyze the Dark Mark and begin the process of removing the Dark Magic from Barty Crouch's Dementorized body, I keep returning to the same kinds of thoughts.

Choices and consequences.

I sought power and vengeance against my enemies. I made a choice and joined the Dark Lord. The consequence was my involvement in murder, mayhem, and contributing to Amanda's death and so many others. I felt whole pieces of my soul wither. I made another choice and went to Albus. The consequence was twenty years of playing so many roles that there are times when I struggle to keep them straight. I regained some of those pieces of soul, but parted with others as I did what was necessary to convince the Dark Lord that I was a loyal servant.

Choices and consequences.

If we destroy the Dark Lord's ambitions with Happy-Sleepy, will I have paid enough?

Watching Barty Crouch through the mirror brought it home that it could just as easily have been me lying on that table. I did the same kinds of things that he did. At the beginning, I was as loyal as he was. If the Dark Lord had left Amanda McKinnon alone, would I have changed my path for a different one? Might I have been the one who captured Moody and Polyjuiced myself into the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor? Might I have been the one who delivered Potter to the Dark Lord so he could revive himself?

Except for a few choices, it could have been me. I would have done a better job than Crouch. I would have rigged the labyrinth to guarantee that Potter would arrive alone. I would have set the Tri-Wizarding Cup to self destruct as soon as it performed its task as a Portkey. I would never have allowed myself to be captured. I would have disappeared off the grounds of Hogwarts, leaving Dumbledore and the Aurors to find the real Moody in his own bottomless trunk. Perhaps they would have gone looking for it when Potter's dead body showed up at the gates of Hogwarts as a message to Dumbledore.

The Dark Lord would have won by now, had I made a different choice.

Then again, I might be lying soul sucked on a pallet at Azkaban. My soul would be rumbling about in the belly of a Dementor, giving it indigestion. My body would be full of the Dark Magic that is keeping Barty Crouch's shell alive. I would be the next best thing to an Inferi.

I shudder at the idea.

Choices and consequences.

I look around the cellar at the lab table where Ellen and I stood, looking at the Runespoor eggs. Nearer to the pen was where Jean and Potter were doing their celebration dance. Halfway up the stairs where Remus Lupin sat in the perfect position to see the Runespoor when it darted across the floor towards my leg. Just enough to intercept it before it could strike. Grasping the snake he was so afraid of and letting it bite his right hand in order to keep me from being bitten.

Lupin knows that werewolves are devilishly hard to poison. He knew the snake probably wouldn't kill him. He knew that I had brewed several doses of antidote If the Runespoor bit me, Ellen would have administered the antidote and I would have survived.

In the face of that, Lupin still Accioed the snake.

Choices and consequences.

Time for me to go upstairs.

----------------------------

It is time to apply the poultice again. It will keep the swelling down, prevent the bites from becoming infected, and help with the discomfort. I have the jar and some towels are draped over my forearm.

Two doors down, next to the bathroom. I tap on the door quietly. Even if he is asleep, I will have to wake him up to apply the poultice. No answer. I tap harder.

This time, I hear a muffled "enter". I open the door and step inside. The candles in the wall sconces light automatically. Lupin is groggily pulling himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He looks up at me, scratching his scalp. I believe he is surprised to see me.

"I need to look at your hand," I state in rather businesslike tones as I summon a chair and sit down facing him.

Lupin holds out his right hand, wordlessly. I cast a bright Lumos and he squints as I bring my wand close to his hand to examine the snake bites. The punctures themselves have healed, leaving only red marks where the bites were. The swelling, which had been pronounced to the point where the skin on his fingers was on the verge of splitting, is greatly reduced. His hand still feels overly warm, a leftover effect of the inflammation.

I place a towel on the bed, below Lupin's hand. Unscrewing the lid off the jar of poultice, I take a generous scoop out of it before I set it down on the bed. I carefully begin to smear the poultice on Lupin's hand. I apply it carefully in layers, painstakingly coating each finger, his palm and the top of his hand, all the way to a few inches beyond the wrist. When I judge the quantity to be sufficient, I wipe my hands on one of the towels and screw the lid back onto the jar. I take another towel and wrap it around Lupin's hand and wrist. Taking my wand, I recite the spell that will activate the poultice.

"It feels cool," remarks Lupin.

"It is reducing the inflammation," I reply. "How do you feel otherwise?"

"A little achy and tired," he replies with a yawn. "Like I've been sick. Sleeping helped."

"You will sleep quite a bit for the next day or two," I reply. "From what Ellen said, you will need rest while your body casts off the toxins."

"It would have been worse if you hadn't Stupefied the Runespoor," says Lupin tiredly.

"It would have been me if you had not Accioed the Runespoor," I reply evenly.

"Maybe it brings us a little closer to being even for what I owe you," answers Lupin.

I need to do this right, but I have no desire to sound like Albus Dumbledore.

"Perhaps it is no longer about debts," I state quietly. "For a long time, what you had the potential to do was my greatest fear. I would break into a cold sweat when I remembered it too vividly."

"I may not have bitten you, but I did claw you," he says, hanging his head. "I traumatized you enough that you've never got over it."

"I will admit to what I consider a healthy fear of werewolves during the full moon," I reply. "It motivated me to create the Wolfsbane potion, so some good came of it. Even if my original reason for doing it was more about my own well-being than yours, I probably would not have made the attempt had I not been motivated by personal experience."

"You know that Sirius wasn't… quite right," says Lupin, turning his head away. "James said that Sirius had been wide awake for a few days, coming up with scheme after scheme to teach you a lesson. James didn't believe that he'd actually try any of them, until he realized that Sirius had left the castle without him."

"My personal diagnosis was that Black was bipolar," I reply, dispassionately. "I cannot deny that I took advantage of his mood swings to torment him. I may have even brought on a mood swing or two."

"He refused to take the treatment potion half the time while we were still at Hogwarts," says Lupin. "After he escaped from Azkaban, he wouldn't take it all. Which is one of the reasons he drank up most of his father's wine cellar at Grimmauld Place."

"He was trying to medicate himself through alcohol," I muse. "Another bad decision."

"Yeah," mutters Lupin. "Another in a long line of bad decisions. Did you know that Sirius actually took his treatment potion much more consistently after he set you up to be attacked? James beat it into him that if I had killed you or turned you, I'd have been executed and Dumbledore would have been sent to Azkaban for letting me attend Hogwarts in the first place. That actually made an impact on him."

"The fact that he lured me into a trap intending that I would either be eaten or turned into a werewolf did not seem to give him any sense of guilt," I state, my bitterness rising.

"No," replied Lupin, shaking his head. "The idea of hurting you beyond repair never did cause him one moment of remorse. I don't think he cared all that much that I'd have been put down or Dumbledore thrown into prison. He cared about James. It was only James' disapproval that ever knocked any sense into him." Lupin raises his head to look at me. "Sirius was never whole, never right. The madness in his family ran too strong. Sirius was more like Bellatrix Black than anyone ever wanted to acknowledge.

"Even after all that time in Azkaban," continues Lupin, "Sirius never felt guilty about you or what he'd nearly done to me. He regretted upsetting James. His guilt over misjudging Pettigrew and encouraging Lily and James to use Peter as a Secret Keeper was the deepest thing he ever felt. He loved Harry, but he needed James so desperately he kept getting them confused. The alcohol didn't help that."

The sadness in Lupin's eyes overshadows his face.

"He cared about Lily, but Sirius was blindly in love with James. That must be why he just stood in the middle of that street and laughed when the Aurors came and got him when Pettigrew blew up all of those Muggles. He wanted to be punished for failing James. He would never have tried to leave Azkaban if it wasn't for seeing Pettigrew's Animagus form in that photo of the Weasleys. He wanted to save Harry, because he couldn't save James."

I move my wand over Lupin's hand to see if the poultice has finished its work.

"About three more minutes," I tell Lupin.

"You Accioed a Runespoor today," I remark, deciding to change the subject. Black is dead and gone. Dwelling on him will not change anything he did or any aspect of his fate.

"You held a snake in one hand and let it bite the other in order to keep me from being bitten," I continue.

Lupin holds up his towel wrapped hand.

"You touched a werewolf," says Lupin. "Your boggart is a werewolf, but you applied the poultice to my hand. I remember a time when you wouldn't have spit on me if my fur was on fire."

"I suspect my boggart may not be werewolf anymore," I speculate.

"Mine has been the full moon for as long as I can remember," says Lupin.

"With good reason," I reply. "In your place, it would be mine too." I look down at the towel wrapped hand and then back up into his eyes. "If I had a time-turner of sufficient power, there are things I would change."

"Me, too," he says, regretfully. "One thing about the future, nothing is set in stone. Just because things were one way in the past doesn't mean they have to be that way in the future."

"Agreed," I reply with a nod. "You may as well go back to sleep. I will wake you at 6 am to do one more treatment. Potter will be off duty at 8 am and Ellen will be here to check on you sometime during the morning. If further treatments are needed, Potter can do it."

"Yes," says Remus, lying back down.

I rise and push the chair back against the wall.

"Good night," I bid as I move to the door.

"Thank you," says Remus, his face lost in the shadows as the candles extinguish themselves. "For the treatment, that is."

"Thank you," I answer softly. "For the snake, of course."

I hear a quiet chuckle from the bed.

"I never _ever_ want to see or touch a snake again."

Choices and consequences.

------------------------------------  
Paired Journal Entry  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

Draco and I have made real progress in our Occlumency lessons in the last week. Professor Littlehorse says that we are ready to be tested by whomever the Order sends. I know I'm not supposed to discuss any of the Navajo techniques we've learned, but I do think you'd find them interesting. That's all I'm going to say before I get myself into trouble.

Draco is doing better. Anita and I can tell that he's very worried about his parents, but he's coping. Taking the Occlumency lessons is giving him a sense that he is doing something that will protect them. He's made reference to "a friend at home" who is trying to help. He's being careful.

If he and I pass the testing, will I be allowed to talk more openly with him? I think it would mean a lot to him if he knew that there are more than just you who are willing to help him.

I completed the search of the spell database to see if there are any that might be used in developing a container to hold the Happy-Sleepy potion. There were seventeen spells that you and Bill hadn't already considered. I printed out the lot of them and have sent them to Bill via overnight delivery. The owl should arrive with it at Hogwarts sometime tomorrow afternoon. There are a few that look promising.

The results of the multidisciplinary competition have been announced. A team of Mediwizardry, Potions, Arithmancy, and Charms students have developed a successful treatment for spattergroit. It's incredible what they have managed to do. They took the hornblat virus and cultivated it in a growth medium that they charmed and potioned to create a mutated form. They treated laboratory rats who were infected with Spattergroit with the mutated virus. The mutated hornblat virus essentially ate the Spattergroit virus. Hornblat can be charmed out of an infected patient. They traded a fatal illness for a treatable illness.

One of the major American potions companies is evaluating the treatment. There is a good chance they'll buy the rights and continue the process that leads to human testing. It is so exciting. When we were at the announcement conference, one of their team members who is majoring in Potions talked to me about joining their team next year. She figured out who did most of the Potions work on our team's hair care products. I'll be a second year student taking third year Potions classes and I'm being recruited by a team of fourth and fifth year students!

I don't want to leave the others behind, but my interest is in medicinal potions. I don't think the others really want to go in that direction. I'll really have to think this over during the summer and decide what I want to do.

By the way, we came in fifth place. We did the best of any of the first and second year teams. Let's face it, hair care products might be very marketable but they can't compete with a Spattergroit treatment.

My last final examination will be the morning of May 28th. I'll Portkey back to The Burrow that afternoon. Is there any chance that I can see you at headquarters? That is the real temptation. I want so much to see you, preferably alone. We can send the others out for pizza. I'd give Harry and Ron the money and they could drag Remus along.

Sigh. You have great hands. I keep thinking about them.

Good night.

Love,  
Hermione.

-------------------------------------------  
E-Mail Communication  
Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm.

To: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
From: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 1999  
Re: Tutoring

They are ready for testing. If you will contact Dumbledore and let me know when he'll be here, I'll set aside time to make certain I am there in case either of them has a problem.

I cannot tell you about Draco's totem animal, but it is one of remarkable power. You know my totem and my animagus form. If I attempted an invasion of his mind and tried to take it on, I am not certain I would win. Draco is very ready to deal with Voldemort. He is capable of blocking his mind and is highly motivated to get his family out from under Voldemort's control.

I took a look at a lot of Draco's memories before he learned how to block them. I'd have to say he was a real snot when he was a kid. Spoiled rich kid, surrounded by sycophants, and a lot of expectations from family friends and associates to support Voldemort and join up when he came of age. In my opinion, he's changed considerably since he left all that. He likes being in the United States. He feels like he's got real friends instead of allies.

This has caused some conflict for him, because Hermione has two Muggle parents. According to the values he was raised by, that should make her inherently inferior. He has accepted that she isn't and that has led him to question a lot of his values. Throw in Anita's influence, and he's questioning a lot of what he was raised to believe.

He's got it bad for your daughter. Don't be surprised if you find those two making plans for their future.

I haven't really learned anything that we didn't already know from Hermione. She's actually a rather boring person. Her idea of a great Saturday night involves a book, her cat, and a large bowl of popcorn.

As I poked through her memories while she was learning to block me, I saw her doing some high risk things. Those were always in connection to her association with Harry Potter. I have the distinct impression that she wouldn't consider doing these kinds of things without someone influencing her.

She's very much a loner. Her friends coax her into getting out. I suspect that otherwise she'd spend every spare moment in a lab, particularly if Severus Snape is in it. I caught a few memories of them together. Their idea of a date involves lab work. She gave him a calculator and he gave her a set of fancy Potions knives for Christmas. They were both ecstatic over their gifts. Romance among the science geek population...

How someone like Snape ever got himself involved with a bunch like the Death Eaters is beyond me. In an American high school, he would have been president of the rocket club and for fun probably would have built an anti-ballistic missile out of stuff he found in the garage and under the sink.

That's it for now. Let me know when Dumbledore is going to be here.

-------------------------------------  
Author's notes

Navajo wasn't intended to be a written language. It is also much more concise than English. One word, spoken in different tones, can mean different tenses, verb forms, etc. We also don't have the characters or alphabet at this website to accurately write these words. This is the closest I can come to Navajo words that match up with the concepts of Legilimency and Occlumency:

Di'nes'ih: Hide  
Yo'di: See  
Bilh'la'di: Down below

------------------------

The geographic area that once made up Persia is known for making some of the best quality hand-knotted carpets in the world. The Nain is a well-known style, using between 300 and 700 knots per square inch.

------------------------

I knew that Chapter 86 would be controversial. My intent from the beginning of the story has been to present a multi-cultural wizarding world. We have met wizards and witches from the British Isles, Israel, Austria, America, Australia, Japan, Chile, and other countries. Just as nationalities vary, so do religions. With as much diversity as we have in the Muggle world, we should expect just as much in the wizarding world.

--------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers: Snakegirl-Sprocket, Keske, Lipasnape, JustYourAverageReviewer, Excessivelyperky, Jade2099, T wrecks, Darque Hart, Mysticsong1978, FarmerLiz, Lyndie578, Yasmin, MollysSister, Laurenke1, Koliber, Droxy, Mugglemomof3, Darth kittius, KarenDetroit, Lilyginny27, Ebbe04, Pstibbons, Arsinoe de Blassenville, KimJo, Wynnleaf, F75, Maddie50, Yapyap, Periwinkle, Trulyamused, Lady Slone, Princessfiona, Squeaker19450, Sabulum Procella, KellyRoxton, Latinachikita, Notwritten, Seth7, Sweety-Pie5445, Kirien, Squiggles.Candi, Oscarxena, Duj, Bluedecor, o0morgana0o, SiriusDesires, Anon.Snapefan, Rinny08, Alex the Anachronistic, Plumbum, Erytha, Magicdaisy, Arime Setta, SpSt, Karlottafitzgerald, Not so Chicken Little, Murgy31, Danielle, Moon Turnip, Morwenna the Magnificent, Puella Deorum, and Lovechilde.


	88. Chapter 88

Still don't own it or my house.

Many thanks to Julia for her critique of each chapter. Sorry about the Runespoor thing. She was absolutely right about orange and gold stripes. I was certain they were red and gold. I should have known better than to doubt Julia on a detail. (Author hangs head in disgrace.)

Thank you to MollysSister for her ongoing feedback and support. She looked at parts of this chapter and it is better for it.

----------------------------  
May 26th, 1999  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Hermione

Dear Hermione,

Today has been an extraordinarily frustrating day. Colin Creevy will be enjoying an evening with Mr. Filch instead of in the dark room he has cobbled together in an unused storage room on the fifth floor across from what was once Artemia Thistwhistle's Transfiguration classroom.

I do believe Professor Thistwhistle's story is included somewhere in _Hogwarts, A History_. Her untimely demise during the Potions classroom explosion that also did away with her husband Anselmus, The Unsafe is well documented. I do not know if you ever encountered Professor Thistwhistle in your explorations of the castle. She restricts herself to her classroom and former quarters. The last time I saw her, she was still teaching in her empty classroom. Unlike Professor Binn's history classes, Transfiguration does not lend itself to being taught by a ghost.

Perhaps history is not a good choice for that, either. I do not believe Professor Binns has taught anything that has occurred since his own demise. Every time that is pointed out to Albus, he cites budgetary constraints as a reason for keeping him on, since a ghost does not get paid.

I have digressed, doubtlessly due to my state of aggravation.

Mr. Creevy has taken it upon himself to do what he calls a "photo essay" about the ghosts of Hogwarts. The Fat Friar gave him an interview and allowed Creevy to follow him about with his camera for a day. The Gray Lady tolerated his attentions and camera for one night last month. I understand that the boy spent three consecutive evenings in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I do not even wish to imagine what he did to hold her attention for three evenings.

The Bloody Baron is a entirely different case in point. There is a reason the Baron drips silvery blood wherever he goes.

Mr. Creevy attempted to talk to him on four different occasions and was rebuffed. Not one to take a strong hint, Mr. Creevy and his camera have been lurking about the dungeon entrance to Slytherin. I tripped over him this morning while I was searching for Peeves after he poured a bottle of ink onto a sofa in the common room.

During Creevy's last foray at surreptitious photography, he caught a shot of the Baron as he was coming through a wall. He is fortunate that the Baron has no magic as a ghost. My understanding of Old English is not as fluent as I would like, but it did not require fluency to understand the point the Baron was trying to make. If the Baron's sword were not a shadow of its former self, Mr. Creevy would have been bisected and doubtlessly haunting a portion of the dungeons by now.

The truth is that I am short-tempered right now because of frustration. The Weapons Committee met again last night and we tested two new possible containers for what the Order has now officially named the Happy-Sleepy Potion.

The first container was designed by the twins. It consisted of a latex condom reinforced with a series of charms (Reinforcing, Timing, and Dissolving) and another charm that was supposed to take the molecular structure of the latex and turn it into a shield that would surround the Dark Lord and concentrate the Happy-Sleepy mist and smoke into the air he breathes.

The latter aspect did not work at all. Fortunately, we are not testing the containers using actual Happy-Sleepy or we would all be lolling about headquarters asking for another hit.

Bill, Jean, and I have been working on a glass orb container. When we add a Squash Proof spell to keep it from being broken in casual handling, it interferes with the Timing charms that release the smoke first and the mist three seconds later. We are absolutely buggered if we cannot find a way to reinforce the walls of the glass orb so that it doesn't smash before it hits the Dark Lord. The last thing we need is to land the entire Order under the addictive effects of Happy-Sleepy. We still do not have a spell that will contain the smoke and mist around the Dark Lord. It must happen automatically upon smashing the orb and not require casting another charm.

Charlie Weasley has brought us more of the miniature Swedish short snout dragon firebladder extract, so we have enough to brew a sufficient amount of Happy-Sleepy for our assault on the Dark Lord.

Even though your movements will be restricted to the Burrow and headquarters, will you still be able to return to Britain on May 28th after your last examination? I'd like to go over all of our research with you. We need fresh eyes to look at what we are doing to see what is missing. There may be something that we have overlooked that your analytical mind might catch.

At the first opportunity, I intend simply to hold you for a very long time. That would go a long way towards easing my frustrations.

Yours,  
Severus

--------------------------------------  
May 26th, 1999  
Hermione

Albus Dumbledore has just thrown up all over his robes.

He is sitting on the floor of the transportation room at Digital Magic. Draco is crouching next to him, holding a glass of water he has just conjured. Bill has already cast a cleaning charm to address the state of his robes. I cast a charm to remove the overwhelming stench and am fishing through my handbag, searching for a vial of Katchmer's Cantankerous Stomach Calming Potion. Let no one say I travel unprepared.

"This should help," I say, uncapping the vial and handing it to Draco to give to Professor Dumbledore. Albus gives me a grateful look and tosses it back. At least this potion does not taste bad, which could result in another round of nausea.

"Are you all right, Professor?" asks Draco, looking very worried.

"I will be fine," he says, "I am just terribly embarrassed. I had no idea Portkeying so far would make me sick."

"It has that effect on a lot of people when they Portkey here from their home countries," says Laketha.

Draco puts his arm around the Headmaster and helps him get to his feet.

"Believe me," says Laketha, "You are hardly the first person to throw up in this room."

"Except that I do not get Portkeying sickness," grumbles Professor Dumbledore.

"When was the last time you Portkeyed across an ocean and half a continent, all in one go?" asks Bill, trying to coax the Headmaster out of his embarrassment.

"I do not believe I have ever done so," says Professor Dumbledore, his pride mollified.

"Well," I reply in an effort to change the subject, "There you have it. No wonder you felt like your stomach wanted to turn inside out."

Vomiting and embarrassment aside, can we get on with the business at hand? Draco and I have been hanging about here at Digital Magic for almost two hours, waiting for Professor Dumbledore to arrive. I have final examinations tomorrow in physics and chemistry and only have my chemistry notes in my backpack. Wasted time could make the difference between 99 and 100 percent on an examination.

Besides, I thought the Order might send Severus to test us. At least I'd get to see him and we could invite him back to the apartment building where I'm sure we could have found five minutes alone. Being held by Severus would go a long way towards relieving my stress.

I am, however, very glad to see Bill. I give him a hug, which is very warmly returned in keeping with our roles as a hot-blooded couple. Now that I think of it, I suppose that wasn't a particularly hot-blooded hug. How does one hug in a hot-blooded manner? It wouldn't be a hug, then. It would be more of a grope, which wouldn't be appropriate in a business setting.

The fact that I am considering the differences between hugs and gropes and attempting to discern what is appropriate in a business setting is a clear message that I am tired and getting cranky. I know there is a war on and Draco and I need to have our newly acquired skills in Occlumency tested. However, this is final examination week and these exams account for 25 to 33 percent of our grades, depending on the teacher. I realize Albus Dumbledore is a busy and important man, but if anyone should understand the importance of doing well on final examinations, it should be the headmaster of the most prestigious wizarding school in Europe.

So there.

I am so tired, I am whining in my head and on the verge of letting it slip out of my mouth. I'm stressed out because there is too much to do. I can't go back to England until Saturday because one of my instructors is ill and they have rescheduled his session for Friday afternoon, the Weapons team is stuck trying to find a way to create a container for the Happy-Sleepy Potion, and my period is a day late.

I'm hoping that one of the reasons I am cranky is that my period will start at some point during the next day or two.

I can count to twenty-eight perfectly well. I am on twenty-nine. Tomorrow will be thirty and so on. I've been late before. It isn't unusual to be a day or two off, especially under stress. After the Ministry of Magic mess, I was a few days late. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had the same effect on me.

Pregnancy could be a really big reason, too. In that case, my period will be delayed for at least nine months.

Severus and I couldn't use any form of precaution and still create the Virgo Curato. We agreed that it was worth taking a chance, given that I shouldn't have been fertile at the time. So, we relied on luck to be on our side. I should have known better. Luck is never on our side. We made love two more times after that and didn't use any precautions.

One day late doesn't mean I'm pregnant.

What if I am?

How in the world will I take care of a baby and go to college at the same time?

I suppose it is a good thing that I got a two bedroom apartment.

Maybe Severus would keep the baby with him?

Oh, that would work. Severus Snape turns up with a baby. Voldemort would be so pleased. He might just inquire about the mother. I doubt Severus would be willing to breast feed either.

I remember when I was a second year student and the rumours were going around that wizards could get pregnant and carry a child if they took a potion that installed a uterus in the abdomen. Ron, being an idiot, asked George and Fred if it was true. They confirmed it. He really should have asked Percy.

I didn't believe it, but I couldn't find anything about it in the Hogwarts library. I was delegated by the Gryffindor second years to ask Madam Pomfrey about it. I asked her and she burst out laughing and said that was a tradition among older students to try and convince the younger students that the boys could get pregnant.

Naturally, I went back to the Tower and told Ron and Harry that it was true and French kissing was the method of transfer for the potion and the means of getting pregnant. If you're going to tell a whopper, make it a great big one.

I probably scarred them for life. No wonder Ron gagged when we tried to use our tongues during a kiss. He probably thought I was trying to get him knocked up. I should check with Harry to see if Ron still believes wizards can get pregnant. It might be why Ron can't seem to hang onto a girlfriend.

Riddle was Head Boy, so he would have heard all the stories. Severus wouldn't be able to claim that some incredibly rare magical accident caused him to give birth. His billowing robes might hide a multitude of sins, but not that one.

If I'm pregnant, Severus and I will have to talk. I do recall that he was there at the time and has as much involvement with this as I do. It wouldn't be my responsibility alone.

What if he doesn't really want children? When we talked about it when we decided to attempt the Virgo Curato, he said he wasn't ready for children. Severus is forty years old. How old would he need to be before he'd feel he was ready for children? He's been a teacher for twenty years and I don't think he's ever struck me as the fatherly type. I wonder if he even likes being around children at all?

He doesn't seem to like being around them between the ages of eleven and eighteen. It might be different with his own child.

If I took the right potion, it wouldn't be an issue.

Could I do that?

I don't know. I really don't know.

It might be a little boy with dark eyes, a big nose, and smart as a whip. Or a girl with dark eyes, a big nose, and smart as a whip.

My hair is brown and Severus' is black. Chances are that the baby would have hair that is darker than mine and might be as black as his.

I let my imagination play around with those images. Babies. Tiny hands and feet and little bellies that are all soft and warm, smelling like baby powder. Innocent dark eyes looking up at Daddy as he holds our child in his arms. Burping and spitting up and nappies to change and baths to give, along with feedings and all the while, so little and helpless and needing to be taken care of. Wiggling about on a changing table while I try to put on a bodysuit and fussing because he really wants to be picked up and cuddled and he'd rather be naked than wear a nappy.

A little boy sitting on my lap and turning the pages as I read him "Winnie-the-Pooh." A little girl giggling as her Daddy lifts her high over his head and then brings her up and down so she gets close to his face and keeps trying to pinch his nose.

It's a huge responsibility, but maybe not such a burden when I think that there might be a lot of love involved.

And maybe my hormones are going wild and telling me that everything will be all right, even if it isn't.

In nine months, I could have a baby. Severus and I could have a baby. We could be a family. I like the idea of being a family, but I don't want to stop or even slow down my education.

How in the world could I work it out when I'm attending college in the United States and Severus works at Hogwarts? I wonder if he would consider moving here? There are some excellent wizarding pharmaceutical companies in America. We could get married.

That wouldn't work unless the war is over and Severus is freed from Voldemort. He can't leave unless there is a way to get rid of the Dark Mark. When Bill and I talked about it, the best we could come up with was to give him the Draught of Living Death and then amputate his left forearm and give him a total blood replacement so he wouldn't be killed by whatever magic is in the Dark Mark.

If he can't use both hands, would he still be valued as a Potions Master?

Of course he would. He's still brilliant and enormously creative when it comes to Potions research. Lesser mortals can be used to stir the cauldrons. We could work around it.

He did say he was interested in a permanent commitment. We wanted to do Claiming first. We wanted to have a chance to get to know each other better. We've had so little time together and all of it in secret. It would be nice to have time to do normal things people do when they are dating. We just seem to go from one crisis to the next.

I don't want to deal with this problem. I don't have time for another problem.

We really do love each other. The Virgo Curato wouldn't have been emerald green if we didn't. I believe that our relationship can only grow closer and better if we could spend more time together without a mission, a project, or a weapon to develop.

The Order is planning an attack on Voldemort for sometime this summer. If I'm pregnant, I'll be on the sidelines.

What if something happened to Severus?

My chest gets all tight and my stomach knots at the thought of it. Oh, please God, don't let anything happen to him. We've just found each other. He's been miserable for so long and I think I could make him happy. We could make each other happy.

Oh, that's right. God doesn't make deals. Severus pointed that out to me on top of the Astronomy Tower.

I have to be realistic. If something did happen to him, it would be horrible. I could still have the baby. That would be something to hold onto that's his. If he's killed, I'd never have another chance. I think I'd rather have a baby now than never have his child at all.

I'm so mixed up. I don't know what I want. I don't know the right thing to do. I don't know what Severus wants.

I don't have to decide anything right now. I'm one day late. I'm irritable. It might be because my period is going to start tomorrow. I'm being premature in worrying. Unless I actually am pregnant. In that case, there is no amount of worrying that is going to be enough.

"Hermione?" says Bill.

I lift my head and start paying attention. Bill is looking at me curiously.

"I'm sorry," I reply. "I was a million miles away."

"Too much going on?" he asks, looking concerned.

I give him a reassuring smile and take his arm like a good girlfriend should.

"We all have too much going on," I comment, hoping to avoid any discussion of what is actually going on.

I must get my mind into the present because Albus is here to test Draco and me to see if we can keep him out of our heads. Fortunately, all an Occlumens can see is memories. He can't read thoughts. Professor Littlehorse says that an experienced Legilimens can see an assortment of memories and draw conclusions from them based on the way they are organized and how vivid they are. Memories that are recalled most often are the ones that are most likely to surface during a scan.

I had a long session with Otter last night and he knows the kind of memories I want to hide. One advantage of having a totem animal hide your memories is that they can use judgment about what to hide. Draco said that with European Occlumency, he had to select specific memories and put them inside the books in his mental Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library.

Otter's general orders are to hide anything with Severus involving touching or a personal conversation. Because of the special Fidelius on the Order's headquarters, the projects we worked on in the lab are already protected. That only left times accessible when we were at the Burrow or the explosion at Hogwarts. With a few extra directions to Otter, those memories are safe, too.

If I were hauled before Voldemort, I would have nothing he could find that would betray Severus, the Cruciatus treatment, or the Happy-Sleepy potion. He'd go after my memories as violently as he could to find them. Pretty soon, I'll know if Otter and I can keep Dumbledore out. If we can keep him out of my important memories, I can hope to keep Voldemort out of them, too.

We're walking down a hallway in the Security Department at Digital Magic. There are florescent lights overhead and rather generic looking office carpeting in the hallway. We pass by an assortment of Digital Magic employees. Some are dressed in American business standard suits and ties or dresses. Others are wearing khakis and royal blue polo shirts. The shirts have the Digital Magic logo of a stylized DM over a wand with sparkles issuing from the tip.

Albus Dumbledore has never been one to blend in with the scenery. He is wearing powder blue satin robes embroidered with silver dragons. The sleeves are enormous and flared so that the edge almost sweeps the floor. His pure white hair is so long that he could practically sit on it and his beard extends to his waist. He is wearing a fez in matching blue satin with a silver tassel.

The employees aren't even blinking an eye as he walks by.

I wonder what would happen if I took Albus to Walmart? Surely he would be noticed there. I have to stifle a chuckle and make myself focus on the present. What would Albus think of the wall of sanitary supplies that had Draco so confused the first time we went there?

From what Warren says, there are clubs in the Chicago area where Dumbledore would blend into the crowd. It might be interesting to visit some evening. It would be educational and I am in Chicago to further my education.

We're being directed into a meeting room of some sort. At one end is a large conference table. At the other end of the room is an arrangement with comfortable looking chairs and a sofa. A coffee and tea service is on a buffet table, along with assorted muffins and bagels.

We all take seats. A door opens at the other end of the room where the conference table is and Professor Littlehorse and Mr. Schuler join us. I'm glad to see the professor. I know that Dumbledore is an expert, but he doesn't know the Navajo Di'nes'ih. If we end up in trouble, Professor Littlehorse will be standing by to help us.

I make the introductions, since Albus hasn't met Professor Littlehorse. I don't have to introduce Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Schuler. According to Bill, they met once before when Mr. Schuler called on Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Other than that, they've communicated through paired journals and via messages using Bill or I as couriers.

With all of these powerful wizards in the room, it is Professor Littlehorse who takes charge.

"As we agreed, I will reveal nothing of how Di'nes'ih works," he begins. "Draco and Hermione will not reveal the techniques either. The best defense against Voldemort developing a means to work around our form of Occlumency is to allow him no opportunity to learn that it even exists."

"Secrecy is our best ally," Dumbledore emphasizes. "Our strategy will best be served by keeping this technique among ourselves." He nods at Draco. "Nothing more shall be said until I have assessed Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger's ability to keep me out of their heads."

"Shall we proceed?" suggests Professor Littlehorse.

The Headmaster looks at me.

"If it is agreeable," he says, "I will begin with Miss Granger. You understand that I will be doing as deep a probe as I am capable of doing. It will be uncomfortable."

"I understand," I reply, leaning back in my seat. I am sitting right across from him. Professor Dumbledore leans forward and makes eye contact.

_"Legilimens."_

He is staring into my eyes and there is no sign of a twinkle or even a friendly look.

There he is. It feels different from when Professor Littlehorse used Yo'di Bilh'la'di on me. It feels larger. How can it feel larger? Like a huge fog in my brain.

It is changing. Narrowing. That alien feeling is narrowing.

It's my birthday party and Missy who lives next door is mad, because I get all the presents. Why did the candles do that, Mummy? Come mit me to the ship, Hermione. Ve can be alone dere. You look zo pretty. I'm so scared. If I make a mistake with the logic puzzle, Harry could be killed. God help me, I can't block that hex. It hurts. My chest hurts. Running, running, running. I can't catch my breath, but Professor Lupin is after us. Daddy, can you read with me? I think I know all the words, now. Damn. I cut my hand dissecting the death watch beetle. I got it! I did Wingardium Leviosa and made my feather float before anyone else did. Mum's dead but her bathrobe smells like lavender. It's breaking my heart, Molly. Why didn't her things disappear when she died? That damn Rita Skeeter. I should have figured out she was an Animagus long before now. Adam, would you please quit trying to feel me up? I see no difference. Will you still need me? Will you still feed me? When I'm sixty-four. I wonder if Bill leaves bathroom towels in a pile on the floor when he's at home. I'll bet Molly wouldn't pick up after him. You think I'm pretty? I'm not pretty like the other girls. It's all the Sleekezy in my hair. Professor Snape in a vulture hat? Oh, Neville. He'll be so angry when he finds out. Ron, get your tongue out of my throat. I love you, but it's the wrong kind. This is good firewhisky. He doesn't love me, but I could be good for him. They didn't kill those Healers because of me, did they? Voldemort was looking for a maiden brewer for six months before I became one. Oh, God. My chest hurts, my stomach is churning, and my head hurts and I want this to stop.

Black.

-------------------

I can feel something cold on my forehead. I'm laying down on the sofa.

I think I just moaned.

"Hermione?"

I don't know that voice.

"Hermione?"

I know that one. It's Professor Dumbledore.

I lift my hand to pull off the cold cloth from my forehead, uncovering my eyes. It takes a few seconds to focus.

There's a stranger bending over me. He's moving his wand and taking readings.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"I have a pounding headache and my sides ache."

His wand moves a little lower. He takes some more readings and looks thoughtful.

"I think you might have strained some muscles a bit when you vomited," he explains. "The muscles aren't accustomed to pushing food in the direction it came out."

Oh, crap.

"I threw up and passed out?" I ask.

"No," says Bill from somewhere to the side. He sounds worried. "You passed out and then threw up, which had us much more concerned."

"By the way," says the young man who I guess has been treating me. "I'm Dave Rutkowski, the Mediwizard on duty at the company first aid station. The security staff called me up when when you passed out." He summons what looks like a doctor's case and starts looking through it. "You had a bad reaction to a rough session of Legilimency. Quite honestly, I think you should press charges against Father Christmas over there. You're lucky you didn't have a stroke." He sounds genuinely annoyed for me.

I can hear Laketha piping in from over to the left.

"We were testing the strength of her Occlumency," she says. "It was necessary for Professor Dumbledore to come on strong. There's a war going on in England, you know."

"Well," says the Mediwizard, with a shrug, "For the next few weeks, I'd suggest you stay out of situations where you need to defend yourself against a Legilimens who is as strong as this one. You might also want to have some follow up visits with your regular Healer." The Mediwizard pulls two vials out of his kit and seems to be deciding between them. He selects one and hands it to me.

"This should address your headache," he says as he looks back in the case. "I need to go back to the first aid station and get something for your stomach. Meanwhile, I do NOT want you engaging in any Legilimens sessions or I'll be treating you for a stroke." Mediwizard Rutkowski looks at Professor Dumbledore, glaring. "Is that understood?" he asks, looking around at everyone else.

There is an assortment of mumbled apologies and assurances. Professor Dumbledore is looking rather chastened. I wonder if it was the lecture or the Father Christmas comment?

I make an effort to sit up so I can drink the potion. Mediwizard Rutkowski reaches over and helps me. I look at the label. It is a standard extra strength headache remedy, one I have made a dozen times. I unscrew the cap and drink it, leaning back and closing my eyes.

One of the best things about pain is how good it feels when it is goes away.

"Better?" asks the Mediwizard.

"Much better," I reply, opening my eyes.

The Mediwizard stands and Bill comes over to sit next to me. Draco is sitting in one of the armchairs, looking nervous. Albus is standing next to him, looking rather guilty. Professor Littlehorse is standing behind the chair where Laketha is sitting. I don't see Mr. Schuler. When the Mediwizard heads for the door, Professor Littlehorse follows him and they talk as they go into the hallway.

Albus comes over and sits down beside me, then reaches over and takes my hand.

"I apologize for injuring you while attempting to bring down your mental barriers," he says, looking very sincere. "I knew that I would need to probe as deeply as Voldemort would. When I could not find the kind of memories I was looking for, I became intrigued and pushed harder and harder.

"I found none of the clues I expected to find that would indicate that some form of Occlumency was being used. For that, I must congratulate you and Professor Littlehorse." Albus looks around. "When he returns, I will congratulate him. If I did not know that you were employing a form of Occlumency, I would not have believed it possible."

"The important thing is that we now know that this can work," I reply. I believe that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't hurt me intentionally, but this had to be tested and tested hard. "Draco is the one who is most at risk. We have to make sure that if he goes back to Britain, his memories will be safe from Voldemort."

"I shall test Draco next," says Dumbledore. "If his mental barriers are as good as yours, I would have to call this venture a success."

"Too bad Professor Littlehorse isn't present to hear you say that," says Draco, looking apprehensive.

My stomach is still feeling queasy. I'd take some of my Katchmer's Cantankerous Stomach Calming potion, but it would interfere with the headache potion I took. It occurs to me that I ought to ask.

"I hope I didn't nail anybody when my dinner made an unexpected reappearance," I comment, glancing around at everyone hopefully. I'd much prefer that I just drenched myself.

Albus squeezes my hand and gives me a mischievous look.

"These robes are new, but I fear that I shall have to retire them when I return to Hogwarts," he says, reassuringly. "They seem to attract certain effluvia and would be dangerous when worn around so many children."

That mental image gets a round of laughter, especially from Bill. I notice that the door to the meeting room has opened again and Professor Littlehorse has returned. He joins us at this end of the conference room.

"I know that you plan on returning to Britain the day after you are done with examinations," he says. "You should make an appointment with a Healer when you are there. Mediwizard Rutkowski emphasized that you shouldn't have any Legilimens sessions until your healer approves it."

"After this," I reply with a nod, "I think that's good advice."

Professor Littlehorse hands me another vial. This one is a stomach-settling brew that doesn't interact with the headache potion I took. I down it quickly and feel the churning in my stomach ease up.

Professor Dumbledore is eyeing Draco. I suspect Draco would rather not do this, given what just happened to me. Draco straightens up.

"I'm ready, Professor Dumbledore," he says. "I can't go home until I know I can do this."

Albus rises and takes a seat across from Draco.

"I will use the same techniques that I have been told the Dark Lord uses," says Albus. "It will be uncomfortable, but I will try to avoid the unpleasantness Hermione experienced."

Professor Littlehorse sits down next to me so he can see what is happening with Draco.

"_Legilimens,"_ says Dumbledore in a soft voice.

Draco is gripping the arms of the chair and staring back at Dumbledore. Right now, the two of them are locked into their own world and are largely unaware of anything going on around them.

While they are busy, I close my eyes and let myself travel inward as I slow my breathing. It takes so little time anymore to travel to my forest glen. It is peaceful and calming there after all of the stress I've had today. I can hear the sound of the water tumbling over the stones in the brook. Pushing the branches of the undergrowth aside, I work my way through to the edge of the water. Otter is there. He's playing in the water, rolling onto his back and gliding around.

I hold my arms out and let my affection pour through my fingers. It becomes like sparkling confetti, tickling his tummy. He gives a full-bodied wiggle and rolls over. Otter paddles his way to the edge of the creek and up onto the shore. I drop to my knees and slowly reach out a hand to him. He sniffs my hand delicately and then holds still as I carefully move my hand to touch him behind this ear.

He lets me pet him.

His fur is wet and coarse. From the expression on his little face and the look in his beady eyes, he likes to have his ear scratched. I put my other hand forward and he lets me scratch behind both of his ears.

"Thank you, Otter," I tell him softly. "You protected all of those memories so that Professor Dumbledore couldn't find them. He couldn't even detect that you were here hiding them. You did a wonderful job."

Otter cocks his head to the side, looking at me so intensely. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

The next thing I know, Otter is scrambling up onto my lap and into my arms. I have an armful of wet wiggling Otter.

There aren't words to describe this joy. Otter and I have connected. He's letting me hold him and pet him and tell him know how much I adore him. We're friends in a very special way. It's different from Crookshanks. He's not exactly a pet. He's smart in the way that Crookshanks is. Probably even smarter since he understands how to decide which memories to hide.

We are in mid cuddle and Otter decides he's had enough. His paws are on my chest and he is looking at me. His eyes are black, just as dark as Severus'.

_Protect._

I hear the word in my head.

"Who am I supposed to protect?" I ask him. "What am I supposed to protect?"

_Protect._

Otter blinks and dashes off my lap, then dives back into the water. I guess that's all I'm going to learn right now.

I rise, brushing the debris off my slacks. My lap and shirt are all wet from Otter. It's a good thing this is a vision, because I have muddy Otter prints on my chest.

He's playing in the water, dipping, diving, and splashing.

"Thank you, Otter," I tell him. "I'll come back and see you soon."

I can't tell if he's paying attention to me or not. He's too busy playing. I turn around and go back into the woods.

My eyes open and I'm back in the conference room at Digital Magic. I can see that Professor Dumbledore and Draco are still locked in an intense probe.

_What the heck?_

I pluck at my shirt and it is wet. I'm looking down at my chest and see muddy footprints on my t-shirt.

Otter, you clever little thing. So much for thinking you were only a vision.

I look up and see Professor Littlehorse looking at my shirt, trying very hard not to laugh. I turn my head and Bill is staring, too. He looks confused.

"We'll talk later," whispers Professor Littlehorse.

Bill is still looking puzzled. I take out my wand, dry my clothes, and remove the muddy footprints. I can't explain to Bill because we're not supposed to tell anybody about our relationships with the totem animals. Instead, I just reach over, take his hand, and look at him reassuringly.

I'm really glad I don't have Draco's Piasa bird. If Otter can get me dirty and wet in the real world, I'd hate to see what an expression of affection from the Piasa bird would do to Draco.

I can see that Draco is sweating. There are drops of perspiration dripping down the side of his face. I hope his probe doesn't make him as sick as mine made me.

Another minute and Dumbledore appears to be through with Draco.

Both of them close their eyes and lean back in their chairs, resting.

Professor Littlehorse gets up and checks Draco.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"I think I'm all right," says Draco. "I have a headache, but not a bad one."

"Do you want to be checked by the Mediwizard?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"I don't think so," replies Draco. "If Hermione has any spare headache potion, that should do it."

I rummage through my handbag and find a vial of the general purpose pain reliever I usually carry with me. I hand it to Professor Littlehorse who passes it onto Draco. He pops it open and drinks it down.

Laketha offers coffee and tea. It feels good to get up and move around. We all serve ourselves and Mr. Schuler rejoins us. I settle for the tea so I don't tempt my stomach to rebel. I'm getting a few twinges like cramps and I think my period is going to start soon. That would certainly be a relief and one less thing to stress out about.

We move to the conference table, bringing our refreshments.

Mr. Schuler immediately turns this into a strategy meeting.

"Professor Dumbledore," says Mr. Schuler. "Can you give us your assessment of Draco and Hermione's resistance to your attempt to Legilimenise them? Is that the right term or did I just make up a word? Maybe I should just ask how the probe went?"

Albus adjusts his fez, strokes his beard, and pushes his half-moon spectacles back up his nose.

"I must say that this was a remarkable experience," he replies. "As I mentioned earlier, I used the same kinds of techniques that I understand Tom Riddle utilizes as a Legilimens. They are exceptionally brutal, as Hermione and my robes can attest."

Albus smiles at me and I'm pretty certain I'm blushing.

"I count myself fortunate that Draco's stomach is less sensitive than Hermione's," continues the Professor in a teasing voice. His expression turns serious. "I am impressed by what I was _unable_ to find. I used a technique where I visualized specific individuals I wanted to find in their memories. I looked for what would be incriminating memories by Riddle's definition. This technique should have brought those memories to my attention. I did not find any such memories. Nor did I find any of the typical signs that Occlumency was being used."

Dumbledore adjusts his spectacles and continues.

"A person who is a highly skilled Legilimens can almost always detect when Occlumency is being used," he explains. "The process of removing memories and placing them in an inaccessible storage place can leave gaps that are detectable by even a moderately capable practitioner. If the clues are not perceived the first time, repeated probes will invariably reveal a recognizable pattern. If the Occlumency is at a beginner level or simply clumsily done, almost any practitioner will usually find those indicators soon into the process."

He stops to sip his tea.

"Riddle is an advanced practitioner and a naturally talented Legilimens," he continues. "During the years he attended Hogwarts as a student, I was the Transfigurations Master. Even as a first and second year, there were times I believe that he attempted to probe me as a means of getting answers to tests. It was amazingly subtle and I was unsure at the time if that is what it was because he was so young. By third year, there were no more incidents.

"I will also claim to be an expert Legilimens," says Albus. "It would take a sophisticated and naturally talented Occlumens to keep me from detecting that Occlumency was being used. When I probed Draco and Hermione, I found none of the mental flickers that typically cue me that Occlumency is being employed. I used some techniques that are subtle and others that are brutal. None of them revealed any of the memories I was seeking, nor any of the clues that Occlumency was being used."

He leans back and folds his hands in front of him.

"I must congratulate Professor Littlehorse on his instruction of these two young people in this technique," declares Dumbledore. "In two weeks, you have taught one beginner and one modestly trained Occlumens in a technique that has defied all of my abilities to penetrate. I understand that we cannot discuss anything about the Navajo techniques you taught them, but I will confess that I hope that you will one day be able to explain how this works."

Professor Littlehorse looks pleased. Mr. Schuler is looking just this side of being smug. I think he's enjoying getting one up on Albus Dumbledore.

"We will not reveal anything about the techniques used in Di'nes'ih," emphasizes Professor Littlehorse. "We would lose an advantage if it were revealed outside of our own approved practitioners. Draco and Hermione understand the importance of this and I am confident will hold this information confidential."

I am disappointed that I won't be able to discuss this with Severus, but a deal is a deal.

"You have my word that I won't reveal what I have learned about Di'nes'ih," I promise.

"I give you a wizard's oath that I will never tell anyone about Di'nes'ih." Draco looks deadly serious.

"Thank you," says Professor Littlehorse, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

"So," interrupts Mr. Schuler, "Professor Dumbledore, is it your opinion that Voldemort would not be able to successfully probe either Draco or Hermione and would find no indicators that they were Occluding their minds?"

"It is," declares Dumbledore.

"In that case," replies Mr. Schuler, "I suggest that we bring Draco and Hermione up to speed on our plans."

"The first piece of information you need to know comes from a very good friend," states Albus. He draws out an envelope from a pocket in his robes and holds it out to Draco. It has Draco's name on the envelope.

It's in Severus' handwriting.

Draco reaches out and takes the envelope. He touches it with his wand and breaks the seal. Draco puts the letter on the table and uses a charm to confirm the identity of the writer. Satisfied with the results of the test, he unfolds the letter and gives me a wry look before he begins to read.

I wish I knew what Severus put in that letter. I suspect I'll find out at least part of it in a few minutes.

Draco puts the letter down on the table. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes his head, and looks at Dumbledore.

"Am I the only person in this room who didn't know about this?" he asks.

"Most likely, yes," replies Albus.

Draco laughs and slaps one hand on the table.

"I knew he wasn't as loyal to the Dark Lord as he was supposed to be," says Draco. "He taught me how to Occlude my mind. He was the one who convinced me and my parents that I should attend Avalon. He knew I didn't want to be a Death Eater and contrived a strategy to convince the Dark Lord to let me infiltrate American wizarding society in order to bring back information that Voldemort could use. All my life, he's been like an uncle and I thought he was doing it to protect me. I didn't realize he was spying for the Order of the Phoenix."

"The tale of how that came to be is Severus Snape's to tell," says Dumbledore. "I daresay you would have some idea of how difficult it has been for him to maintain this posture for all this time."

"With the Dark Lord's paranoia and penchant for violence as constant issues?" replies Draco. "I can imagine." He shakes his head and looks at the letter. "My father has been providing the Order with information about the Dark Lord's plans?"

"In December," says Albus, peering over the rim of his eyeglasses, "Your father and I spoke during a meeting that was brokered by Professor Snape. He offered his services as a spy because of his fear that Voldemort would one day harm you and your mother in order to punish him. He made it quite clear that his beliefs about how wizarding society should be structured had not changed. He simply believed that the Dark Lord was becoming increasingly insane and dangerous to everyone."

"That sounds like an honest assessment of my father," replies Draco. "My own views have changed since I came to Avalon and have seen different ways of living. The social circles my parents run in take a dim view of anything outside a narrow perspective about the _proper_ way to live."

I think it is brave of Draco to acknowledge that about his father, considering that Anita's father is sitting right here. Lucius Malfoy might perceive Daniel Schuler as his inferior both socially and magically, but Mr. Schuler is one of the most influential people in the world. He could probably buy and sell all of us in this room with just his loose change.

Mr. Schuler gives Draco a reassuring look.

"I've realized all along that you and your father are very different people," he says. "At the age of eighteen, you left England and came to live in another country. You attend college with other students from all over the world and have learned to get along with them. You've adapted to a very different culture that judges people by their accomplishments and not by their breeding."

Mr. Schuler pauses and offers a broad smile.

"Do you think that at the age of eighteen, your father could have left England and adapted to this environment at all? Could he have accomplished half of what you have in the American wizarding world? In less than a year, while attending college and taking on a double major, you've become a businessman. With all due respect to your father, he couldn't have done it. He's a success in the environment he was born in, dealing with people he has known all his life, building on inherited social, financial, and political connections. You had money to back you up, but everything else you've done on your own.

"You should be proud of that, Draco" says Mr. Schuler, meaningfully. "I know that I am."

Wow.

Draco is actually beaming. I've never seen him look so genuinely happy about a compliment. When Severus used to praise him during Potions, Draco would look pleased, but in a sneaky or smug kind of way. It's like he knew that the praise could be real, but it might also have been given because he was a Malfoy and Severus was obligated to give it. He may never really have felt that the praise he received was deserved.

It also doesn't hurt that his potential father-in-law is the one who gave it. The potential father-in-law who is probably the wealthiest wizard in the world.

I mean there are compliments and _there are compliments_.

"Thank you, sir," says Draco, keeping it simple and to the point. "I've been happy here and I think it is has worked out well for me. You are right about my father, though. He never would have considered leaving England."

I don't add the part about Lucius Malfoy would never consider leaving England unless he was on the run for something that he couldn't buy his way out of. I'm cynical, but there you have it.

"There is more that all of you need to know about the Order's efforts to rescue the Malfoys and to deal with the Dark Lord," says Dumbledore. "For that, I will hand over to Bill."

Heads turn in Bill's direction.

"Thank you, Albus," says Bill, moving into lecture mode. "Last autumn, the Order made a commitment to taking the fight to Voldemort instead of continually responding to his attacks. This meant that we needed to look for a way to attack a monster who no one seems to have been able to kill and make stay dead. We don't know what Voldemort did to make himself immortal, but we have theorized that it resulted in him having a core being of some sort that survived being hit with the Avada Kedavra that rebounded off of Harry Potter on the 31st of October,1981.

"This misty ghost-like core was seen by Harry Potter when Quirinus Quirrell, a Hogwarts Professor who was possessed by Voldemort, died attempting to force Potter to hand over the Philosopher's stone that was being hidden at Hogwarts. We believe this core is currently housed within a body created for Voldemort using a crude Dark Magic. The Bone, Flesh, and Blood spell required a bone from Riddle's father, Peter Pettigrew's willingly sacrificed hand, and blood taken unwillingly from Harry Potter.

"It gave him a body that he can use, but it appears that the body is defective due to genetic material he got from Pettigrew and Potter. Based on the observations of Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, we have determined that this body has serious health issues. We suspect diabetes and possible heart problems are present."

"So that's why…" blurts Draco.

"Your father communicated with Professor Snape and made it very clear that your parents have no wish to cooperate with Voldemort's plans," says Bill. "The Order has made a commitment to putting all of our resources into preventing Voldemort from succeeding. Using house-elves to pass messages, your parents have agreed to our plan."

Bill looks at Draco, his eyes full of compassion. "Do you want to tell the group?"

Draco nods, looking pained.

"The Dark Lord wants a new body," says Draco, making an exceptionally nasty face. "He has ordered my parents to have another child so that he can possess it as soon as it is born. In exchange, my mother and I are to get special Dark Marks that will enslave us even more than regular Death Eaters. My initiation is supposed to be June 21st."

Draco's head drops.

I jump up, walk around the table, and take the seat next to Draco. I grab his hand and he looks at me.

"We're not going to let this happen to you," I hiss emphatically, looking him straight in the eye. I don't know what's the right thing to say, I only know that I am upset and terribly angry for Draco. "He's not going to put that mark on your arm and we won't let him do this to your family. That slimy monster is even more horrible than I ever believed if he would do this to an innocent baby."

Draco gives me a rueful smile and squeezes my hand. "I knew I could count on you and I'm very glad you're on our side. You always were the brains behind everything Potter ever accomplished."

"We have to tell Draco what we have planned," I announce, looking around the table. Bill and Albus are looking rather amused. They had better be planning to tell Draco about our plan to attack Voldemort on June 21st.

"Now that we know you can safely keep our plans secret from Tom Riddle," offers Bill, "We will tell you what we have planned. You're right about Hermione being one of the big brains of the group. She's responsible for the original idea that resulted in our plan to interrupt your induction into the Death Eaters."

"No," I exclaim. I want this to be clear. "The original idea wasn't mine. It came from a lecture in Professor Boch's class."

"What?" says Mr. Schuler. He exchanges looks with Professor Littlehorse and Laketha who are shaking their heads. Of course, they don't know anything about this.

"Can I talk about it?" I ask Professor Dumbledore.

"We have discussed this within the Order and have determined that Draco and Mr. Schuler have a need to know," he replies. "It is up to Mr. Schuler to determine which people within his own organization need to know and are sufficiently trustworthy." Dumbledore looks intently at Mr. Schuler.

"I would say that Laketha and Roger certainly need to know," states Schuler. "Keiko Takahashi is the Director of Security for Digital Magic and is one of the resources you have available to you. Gerhardt Boch has been helping in multiple capacities and certainly needs to know."

Professor Dumbledore nods, accepting Mr. Schuler's determination. I decide to proceed.

"I got the idea from a lecture that Professor Boch gave about how addiction works," I explain. "That led me to ask about why addiction hasn't been a big problem in the wizarding world since it is a huge problem among Muggles. It took some research to put the pieces together and it would take a long time to explain the details, which I'll be happy to do at a later time. The bottom line is that addictive substances appear to use the same neurotransmitters that magic uses to work. This means that addiction to powerful narcotics results in an inability to use magic.

"We've also discovered that there is something in the fire bladder extract of miniature Swedish short snout dragons that suppresses magic. After research and experimentation, the Order has developed a potion that uses crack cocaine and the firebladder extract in a way that we believe will addict Voldemort almost instantly and suppress his magic. That way, we can take him alive."

"If you don't take him alive and in his current body," observes Laketha, thoughtfully, "He'll simply take his immortal core somewhere else and find another body to inhabit. Killing the current body would only postpone the problem."

"Exactly," replies Bill. "We want to capture him so we can study what he's done to himself. Ultimately, we have to find a way to kill his immortal core. Otherwise, he'll keep coming back."

"Brilliant," says Laketha, looking at Mr. Schuler. "On both sides. Voldemort found a means to achieve some form of immortality and the Order has worked out a way to take advantage of his weakness."

"We knew that the Order was working on some sort of weapon against Voldemort," says Mr. Schuler, his hands clasped in front of him. "We had no idea of the nature of the weapon."

"Do you have the weapon ready to go?" asks Laketha.

"Not completely," replies Bill. "We are working on the delivery system. We are developing a container that will safely hold the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"Happy-Sleepy potion?" interrupts Draco. "That's an interesting name."

"The snakes named it," replies Bill, amused.

"Snakes?" asks Mr. Schuler, raising his eyebrows.

"Since Voldemort seems to be part snake," says Bill, "We used snakes as experimental subjects. We tried the potion on them to see if snakes could be addicted. It turns out that they can. I don't know if you are aware that Harry Potter is gifted with Parseltongue. He can communicate with them and they tell him it makes them feel happy and sleepy."

"What an interesting way of describing being stoned," mutters Laketha.

"If there is anything we can do to help you finish your weapon," says Littlehorse, "We're ready."

"Any resources you need that we have are at your disposal," declares Mr. Schuler. "You will find the brain trust at Avalon College willing to do research or provide you with assistance. Any science or any magic at our command within Digital Magic or our connections throughout the world is yours. We want the Order to win and take Voldemort out of the picture. No part of the wizarding world is safe as long a psychopath with his kind of power is running around with ambitions of world domination."

"At this point," says Bill, "We don't have any specific requests. We are working on a container for the potion that can be thrown and shatter, while projecting a shield that will contain the smoke and mist of Happy-Sleepy so that it doesn't disperse in the air before it is inhaled. It is our intent to attack Draco's initiation ceremony from air and ground. The flyers will target Voldemort with the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"Flyers?" asks Littlehorse, raising an eyebrow.

"Broom mounted flyers," says Albus. "Fortunately, a number of our Order members were on their House Quidditch teams during their school years. A few are professional Quidditch players. We believe it will come as a great surprise to Voldemort when he finds himself pelted by containers of potion coming from the air."

"If I weren't going to be the guest of honor at the initiation," grumbles Draco, "I'd be happy to be in on the attack. Maybe at the right moment I can pull a Potter and _Accio_ my broom from the Manor and join in."

"We'd be thrilled to have you flying on our side," I tell him, laughing. "We're all on the same team this time."

"We sure are," he says, smiling back.

----------------------------  
Hermione  
Late evening

Dear Severus,

Albus said that he was going to go and see you right away to let you know about our testing. In case he hasn't reached you, it went very well. Albus said that he probed each of us using the techniques the Dark Lord uses. Not only didn't he find the kind of memories he was looking for, he didn't find any clues that we were using Occlumency.

I am so relieved for Draco. I know that it is likely he'll have to face the Dark Lord before June 21st. Without this new form of Occlumency, that meeting might not have gone well for him. Or, he might have had to go into hiding to avoid the meeting altogether. This is a much better alternative.

I suspect that Draco will be writing to you shortly, if he hasn't already. Albus gave him your letter and we told him our plans. He was so relieved and badly wants to be a part of the attack. He really needs to talk to you.

It is good to have had this training, but I haven't been concerned about being hauled in before the Dark Lord. As long as he will only authorize me to be kidnapped in England, I've been safe here in Chicago.

I can't come home until Saturday morning. One of my examinations was rescheduled for Friday afternoon and it will be late at night in Britain before it will be over. When I go home on Saturday, I'll restrict myself to the Burrow or Headquarters. We're only talking a matter of weeks until June 21st anyway and I can certainly tolerate restricting where I go for that long.

As long as I am provided with sufficient books, of course.

Will you be free on Saturday to come to headquarters? I'll be there whatever time you can get there.

I do have another bit of good news. I am definitely not pregnant. Things were a little overdue, so the possibility has been on my mind. In some ways, it was a good scare. It gave me plenty to think about. I realize that I'm not ready to be a mother. You and I haven't even talked about children and what would be right for both of us.

Claiming is a good idea. We've had so little time to talk about things that didn't have to do with war, weapons, or Cruciatus treatments.

How many other wizards and witches are beginning every other sentence with the phrase "after the war is over?" How many of us have put our lives on hold, waiting for the threat to end? Feeling like we can't go further until the nightmare is over?

I'd like to ask you out on a date, Professor Snape. When the war is over, I want to invite you to spend a weekend with me in Chicago. I'll take you to the Field Museum of Natural History. You can meet Sue, the tyrannosaurus rex skeleton on display in the main lobby. After we see the dinosaurs, we'll go see the mummies. We both like seafood, so we can go to the Cape Cod Room at the Drake Hotel where their specialty is an absolutely decadent Lobster Thermidor. We'll stay at my place and reinforce the soundproofing spells. What we do will be limited only by our imaginations.

My imagination is pretty good.

We'll talk. We'll start on all of those things we've had no time to discuss.

What's your favorite color? Which side of the bed do you like to sleep on? What research do you want to pursue when you don't have to work on weapons? What kind of fiction do you like?

The list could be quite long.

I have three more examinations before I can come to the Burrow. Will you be at headquarters Saturday morning?

I'll be counting the hours until I can see you again.

Love,  
Hermione

---------------------  
E-Mail Communication  
Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm.

To: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
From: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 26th, 1999  
Re: It has been quite a day

I'll admit that I'm impressed by what the Order is proposing to do. Using Draco's scheduled initiation as a Death Eater to attack Voldemort by air and land using a potion that will leave him Happy-Sleepy is a real interesting strategy.

It will come as no surprise to you that Draco cornered me after the meeting and asked for Animagus training. I told him that it is virtually impossible for him to learn to be an Animagus by June 21st. It takes months or even years to learn.

Except that his totem animal is one that I've never heard of anyone having before, let alone someone who isn't an Indian. It is powerful and has given him a message that gives me reason to believe Draco could be a special case.

He offered to pay me for my time. I told him that it wasn't necessary, I'd simply bill you. We both got a pretty good laugh out of that one.

I'm going to give it a shot. Term is almost over and I can make the time. In the course of training, if he shows signs of being able to make the transformation, we'll go to my place in northern Wisconsin where there will be sufficient room and privacy.

You do understand that if we succeed, I'll have to go to England and help the Order on June 21st in case Draco needs help. As long as I'm there, I ought to pitch in on the attack and make sure that Draco gets out safely. Besides, you ought to have an observer present. I'd be in a great position to see what's going on.

You do know that I'm not exactly asking permission.

------------------------  
E-Mail Communication  
Encrypted using a Digital Magic developed algorithm.

To: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
From: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . c o m  
Date: May 26th, 1999  
Re: I know what you really want

I agree that the meeting went well. We've certainly demonstrated our willingness to help the Order in some concrete ways. When you go to England to help the Order with their plans for June 21st, that will certainly prove it.

You've wanted the chance to take your Animagus form on the warpath for years. We just haven't had any Dark Lords in the United States for you to take on. The first one you learn about in Europe and you want a shot at him and his minions.

By all means, the two of you go ahead and work on this project. However, if Draco manages to do this, I want to see it. You won't tell me what he'll be because of your tribal traditions, but I'll bet it's a doozy. I'll talk Draco into it, because I suspect both of you in your Animagus forms would be a sight worth seeing.

----------------------------  
Author's notes

Sue, the tyrannosaurus rex at the Field Museum of Natural History, is one of the most popular exhibits. I really liked Ernestine, the brachiosaurus who used to be in that spot. My secretary, Ernestine and I went to see her once several years ago. I took a photo of them together and put it on her desk with the following caption: "Ernestine, the secretary meets Ernestine, the dinosaur. Only one walked away alive." One of the guys at work added a notation: "Which one is the secretary?"

A day without a few good laughs is one that wasn't worth getting out of bed for.

---------------------------

Thank you to all my reviewers: Yapyap, Princessfiona, Keske, Pstibbons, Arsinoe de Blassenville, SiriusDesires, Dancingkatz, MollysSister, Darque Hart, Sunsethill, MoreThanSirius, Andi-Scribbles, Murgy31, o0morgana0o, ReluctantDragon, Oscarxena, Lilsnape, Squiggles.Candi (who provides snake advice), Rhonda, Pickles, Laurenke1, CharmedForce, MysticSong1978, FarmerLiz, Trulyamused, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Koliber, ToraNoko123, Maddie50, Droxy, Snakegirl-Sprocket (who provides snake advice), KimJo, Lady Slone, Quiet-mg, Severessa, Puella Deorum, Bill, Notwritten, Princess-Nyx, Duj, Rinny08, Arime Setta, Angel, Smiles28, Excessivelyperky, Curikitten, Firestormpwr, Jocemum, Crystalclear, Ebbe04, Instar, Jade2099, Klschmidt, Seth7, Lilyginny27, KGdiva, Wynnleaf, NervousAboutAngels, Mugglemomof3, SpSt, Magdalena, Latinachikita, Professor.Bat, Villafoo, Squeaker19450, Feline-silhouette, Lyndie578, and Ems Adara.


	89. Chapter 89

Believe me, I don't own this.

Thanks to Julia for her patience and reminding me for the umpteenth time that there is no Slytherin Tower at Hogwarts.

---------------------------------  
May 29th, 1999  
Severus

-----------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Draco

Draco,

You may expect me to arrive in time for lunch tomorrow.

I will answer your questions about events as they have transpired over the last few months and give you more detailed information about our plans. The house-elves will have communicated with each other by then and I can provide you with current information about your parents.

We will begin preparations for the initiation ceremony. There is no way of knowing how far into the ceremony you will be when the attack starts. The Order has every intention of intervening before you are marked. However, I have observed that the best laid plans of mice and men are equally likely to go wrong. You must be fully prepared to act your part.

Severus

-----------------------  
Trans-Atlantic Communication  
Professor Julia Franks to Professor Albus Dumbledore

Dear Professor Dumbledore

I am confirming that Gerhard Boch and I will arrive by Portkey on May 29th at 10 pm, London time. This will work out better for us, given the time differential. Madam Long will arrive on May 30th at 8 am, in keeping with the Sabbath.

We are looking forward to seeing you again.

Sincerely,  
Julia Franks

-----------------------  
Severus  
May 29th, 1999  
Morning

It is weeks since I have seen Hermione and it is all I can do to keep myself from rushing to headquarters.

In our last communication, she said that she would be there at about 10 am. I had to remind myself that this would require Hermione to leave Chicago no later than 4 am. Then, I realized that I should factor in time for her to arrive at the Burrow and leave her cat and belongings there. That means 3:30 am. She should not appear to be in too much of a rush to come to headquarters, if we are to be at all discreet. She should have breakfast with the Weasleys. So, now it may be 2:30 or 3 am for her departure from Chicago.

After a full day of examinations yesterday, she is going to have short rations of sleep so that we might have as much time together as possible.

It would be too obvious if I showed up at the Weasleys for breakfast, having never done so before. I might as well attach my heart to my sleeve or carve our initials on a tree surrounded by a heart.

The first opportunity we have, I am going to take up Hermione on her offer of a date. A whole weekend with her in Chicago and well away from prying eyes.

Perhaps not entirely away from prying eyes. Draco lives in the building. I wonder if I could arrange for him to visit his parents that weekend. Or encourage him to take his girlfriend away somewhere for a few days.

A feeling of horror wells in my stomach.

What if Draco or Hermione come up with an insane idea about having a double-date?

I sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off a headache.

Surely Hermione would realize that such a thing would lack dignity? There are certain challenges inherent in a man of forty courting a woman who is not quite twenty years old. Different perceptions of what might be an enjoyable time around friends might be one of them.

I sit down on the edge of my bed in a hurry and bury my face in my hands.

She is a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. Dignity among Gryffindors is a tie striped in red and gold. It is tartan plaid everywhere. It is the Weasley twins turning their friends into canaries.

We shall have to talk and I must be very careful about how I approach this. I ought to make a list.

No double dating.  
No Severus make-overs. Black goes with everything.  
No snogging in public.  
Arm taking is acceptable, but no hand holding in public until after marriage. Even then, arm taking is preferred.  
No endearments in public. Mollywobbles, indeed. I am still traumatized by the time I overheard that one.  
Endearments in private shall be dignified. Mollywobbles, indeed.

The list will certainly get longer. We have agreed to talk after the war is over. We will make a list of behaviour that is mutually acceptable in public. Hermione likes to make lists.

That is for later. Right now, it is 8 am in Scotland and 2 am in Chicago. Hermione will not be at headquarters for at least two hours.

Then, we shall spend the whole day together.

Not alone. I do believe that Jean is going to make a special effort to be there so she can meet Hermione. Ellen has met Hermione on one other occasion and will be at headquarters on Sunday after Professor Franks and Madam Long return to meet with me.

What if they do not like her?

Stop it, Severus. You are thinking like a girl. Ellen and Jean are my friends, but it does not matter if they do not like Hermione.

I bury my head deeper into my hands.

Yes, it does. I want them to like Hermione. I want them to see beyond the compulsive hand waving, tendency to be bossy, and her relative youth. Hermione is warm, kind, intelligent, curious and generous to a fault. She is foolish enough to love me and wise enough to fascinate me.

I want my two women friends to like my girlfriend.

My head shoots up.

I have a girlfriend.

Somehow, the term girlfriend does not seem quite appropriate. Sixth years have girlfriends. I am a grown man. What would be an appropriate way to refer to her?

Companion?

No. Not quite right. Mrs. Norris is Argus' companion.

Romantic companion?

Better, but still not it.

Paramour?

No. It sounds sleazy. It might imply that she is my mistress.

Significant other?

No. That sounds like a contractual arrangement. Claiming is a magical contract, but _significant other_ sounds cold.

Lady friend?

That is better than girlfriend, but not by much.

Lady love?

I do love her, but I would hardly say so to others. Certainly I would not refer to her in such a way.

Soul mate?

Whether or not such a thing exists, it is an absurd way to refer to Hermione to others. I would never use such a term and others would find it laughable.

My intended?

I rather like that one. Move that to the short list. It may not be quite appropriate until the Claiming contract is in place.

Mon amour?

That one is good, too. However, it would be best used in private and not as a general term of reference.

Object of my affection?

Hermione is hardly an object.

Mi Corazon?

There is something to be said for foreign languages.

I believe I have heard some of the students use the term _principal squeeze_. That is utterly ridiculous. She is hardly a lemon.

I shall have to consider this further. Thus far, _my intended_ would be the best choice to use in public. Once we are Claimed, I will have every right to use the phrase.

Perhaps, I should go and mark essays until 10 am. I need a distraction.

----------------------

In an effort to avoid being obvious, I arrive at headquarters at 10:13 am. Dropping the wards on the kitchen door, I stroll in and find Remus. He is sitting at the kitchen table, presiding over the remains of a late Saturday morning breakfast and reading the Daily Prophet. He does not even look up as I stand beside the table, but then with his keen sense of smell, he probably knew that I had arrived before I opened the door.

"She's down in the cellar with Jean," he says, taking a sip of his coffee and turning the page of the newspaper, not bothering to look away.

I suppose for the sake of maintaining my dignity, I should say something snarky.

Oh, the hell with it.

"In the cellar with Jean, you say?" I repeat.

Remus doesn't even lift his head.

"You'd better get down there before Jean recruits her for the Unspeakables," he says, picking up a piece of toast. "You'll lose your unofficial apprentice."

"Merlin only knows what Jean might fill her head with," I remark.

"Jean's known all of us long enough to know where a lot of the skeletons are buried," says Remus, seemingly absorbed in an article about a recent improvement in flying carpets. "She has a gift for digging them up and reanimating them at what she thinks is just the right moment."

"I shall intervene," I announce, turning swiftly so my robes give an exceptionally dramatic billow. Striding to the cellar door, I dare not look behind me in case Remus has decided to quit reading and watch me.

Opening the door quietly, I can hear voices below me. I pause to listen.

"The program takes six years to complete," says Hermione.

"Why so long?" asks Jean, conversationally. "A Potions apprenticeship takes three years."

"In the United States, a Muggle college degree takes four years of full time study to finish," replies Hermione. "The program will give me a degree in chemistry that is recognized in the Muggle world and a mastery in Potions recognized in the wizarding world. At least, I hope the Potions mastery will be accepted in the wizarding world."

"Muggle chemistry?" says Jean. "Combined with Potions, that could make you a very effective researcher."

"That's what I'm hoping," says Hermione, enthusiastically. "I want to get into developing new medicinal potions. I'm even considering getting an advanced Muggle degree in chemistry or medicine so that I can incorporate developments in Muggle pharmaceuticals into our own potions."

"You'll have career choices, you know," says Jean. "The Unspeakables would certainly like to talk to you."

"That sounds interesting," replies Hermione, "But, I really want to develop new medicinal potions."

"St. Mungo's might consider you too radical to employ," Jean comments. "Ellen might be able to advise you there."

I start down the stairs, making some noise so they will know that someone is coming. Halfway down the stairs, I can see into the laboratory where the two ladies have stopped talking and are looking in my general direction. As soon as she sees me, Hermione's face lights up as if someone cast a form of Lumos on her heart.

She is lovely.

Her hair is pulled up into that style she calls a Gibson girl. She is wearing one of her work ensembles of black slacks and a matching long waistcoat over a golden yellow long-sleeved top.

I can see the lines of her delicate neck, a simple ring with a citrine stone that was her mother's is on her right hand, and she is wearing the dragonhide boots she purchased in the autumn.

The light in her eyes and the welcoming smile on her lips are enough to keep me warm in the deepest Scottish winter.

Jean is looking back and forth between us.

"I need to talk to Remus about some intelligence the Strategy Committee wanted," she says, looking at Hermione. "I'll catch you both later."

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, Jean is there.

"Good morning, Jean."

"Good morning, Severus,"

She waits until I have stepped past her and I hear her dash up the stairs behind me. She is muttering the words of a spell I recognize from our youth. The cellar door closes and no one will disturb us for a while.

I may have been more obvious than I really should have been, but right now none of that matters.

Hermione is in my arms.

Her head is resting against my shoulder and my nose is buried in her hair, which smells of rosemary. Her arms are clasped around my waist and mine are around her shoulders. We hold onto each other tightly

I have promised myself this moment for weeks when I yearned for her company, her touch, and her love. I promised myself that I would hold her for a long time. To bask in the warmth of her acceptance and to give her my own. To allow myself this sense of belonging that I have never found anywhere else.

I realize that we are slowly moving back and forth. It is a soothing rhythm.

Hermione moves first. She lifts her head and goes up on tiptoes for a kiss.

And another.

And one more.

This one is deeper than the one before.

As enjoyable as this is, Hermione is straining to reach me and I am getting a kink in my neck from bending low enough to kiss her. The difference in our heights poses a barrier to having complete comfort when kissing in a standing position.

I pull back a bit and realize that Hermione was thinking the same thing. She takes out her wand and begins transfiguring the rickety chair in the corner of the lab. Taking a towel from a stack on the shelf, she tosses it on top of the wooden frame. In short order, she has created a comfortably cushioned loveseat.

Aptly named.

Hermione is better at Transfiguration than I am. This loveseat is more comfortable than any I could have made. She is resting against me with my arm around her and her head on my shoulder. This is comfortable enough that I could remain like this for an hour or two.

At least we will not be interrupted since anyone who touches the knob on the cellar door will feel queasy and have an irresistible urge to visit a bathroom. That should keep the rabble away for a while. I must make a point of thanking Jean for that one.

"Welcome home," I whisper to Hermione.

She snuggles closer.

"It is good to be home," she whispers back. "It is even better to be right here."

I agree completely.

"Time to catch up," she says, looking up at me. "Have the Gryffindor dunderheads getting ready for N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s driven you barking mad, yet?"

I laugh.

--------------------------

"I suppose I ought to take the hex off the cellar door at some point," I murmur. "We will have to rejoin the rest of the world."

Hermione is rubbing my shoulders and back. She decided that I am tense and the muscles in my neck and shoulders are in knots, which she must take care of immediately.

I certainly shan't deny it. Besides, this feels heavenly.

I am sitting in a most uniquely shaped seat that she transfigured out of the loveseat. Hermione calls it a massage chair. I am sitting with my face on a headrest, my arms on the cushioned arms of the chair which are mounted backwards when compared to a regular chair. My chest is resting against a brace of some sort, and my legs are supported in a bent position.

It is surprisingly comfortable. Hermione talked me into taking off my outer robes, my frock coat, and my white shirt. I am wearing only a vest and she tried to talk me out of that, too. As it is, I am wearing far less than I should be, given that we are at headquarters and there are other people upstairs. I would be mortified, indeed, if anyone walked in on us.

There are other people upstairs who have the skills to remove the hex Jean put on the door knob.

Surely they would not. Jean went out of her way to leave us alone. Remus made it as easy as he could for me to have time with Hermione. I doubt that if Potter or young Weasley are here, they would have quite the same maturity about it. I do not know if they could remove the hex.

I should just relax and enjoy this.

Especially the look on Potter or Weasley's face, should they come down here and see us.

Ohhh.

I do not believe it is standard massage technique to kiss the neck of the recipient.

Hermione has pulled my vest from where it is tucked into my trousers. She is running her hands underneath the vest and up my spine, digging her thumbs into the tightened muscles along the way.

I believe I just moaned.

"Do you know what I am doing to you?" whispers Hermione into my ear, sounding seductive.

"Starting something we cannot finish," I groan back. The reason we know Hermione is not pregnant poses a barrier to engaging in the kinds of behaviors we would very much like to explore.

"Close," she says, her fingers working a particular spot on my right shoulder. "I am actually seeing to your oxytocin levels."

"Oxytocin?" It comes out in the middle of another grunt of pleasure as Hermione switches to my left shoulder.

"Oxytocin is a wonderful neurotransmitter," she says as if she were describing the finest chocolate. "Did you know that our body chemistry predisposes us to have relationships?"

I have never heard that, but am willing to learn more.

"Tell me." Read me the dictionary, if you like. Or the sales advertisements in the Daily Prophet. Just keep doing that with your hands.

"I think oxytocin may be my favorite of all the neurotransmitters," says Hermione, using her nails to lightly scratch my scalp and send tingles down my spine. I am glad I washed my hair this morning.

"Oxytocin gives us a feeling of well-being and is readily generated through physical contact," she says, playfully. "Massage is one way to generate a higher oxytocin level. It also leaves you feeling predisposed to appreciate the person who attends to your needs in ways that put more oxytocin in your system."

The scalp scratching has turned into a scalp massage.

"Back rubs are one way to do it," Hermione says breathily. "Foot rubs can do it. A woman who breastfeeds her child experiences that same sense of well-being." She brings her lips to my ear and whispers seductively. "Of course, the best way to enhance oxytocin levels is through regular…healthful…_orgasms_."

I am in favor of regular healthful orgasms.

Hermione kisses my ear and runs a trail of kisses down to my shoulder and a shot of electricity directly to other parts.

"There is some suspicion that oxytocin came in to play when our far distant ancestors were living in caves," she explains. "When selecting a mate, females probably determined that if a partner was sufficiently considerate of their needs for them to achieve climax, he might be worth keeping around.

"We shall have to test that out," she says, her voice husky.

"I will certainly endeavor to do my part," I promise.

My oxytocin levels are probably doing very well with all of this attention. I feel relaxed, contented, and loved. Hermione has communicated this to me through her hands, voice, and lips. My sense of well being is in excellent shape at the moment. In fact, I would like to transfigure this odd massage chair into a bed and enjoy one of those regular healthful orgasms. I did promise Hermione sex, but our timing is not good.

I allow my voice to drop an octave.

"Perhaps it is time for me to see to your oxytocin levels," I suggest.

It takes us a moment or two to exchange places in the massage chair. Recognizing the reality that we must keep this under control, my shirt is back on and Hermione only takes off her waistcoat. I smile to myself, because her shirt is not tucked in. Not that it would stop me.

Hermione thinks my voice is sexy, so I intend to use it to best advantage.

I rub my hands together to warm them while I plot my strategy. I will start at the bottom and work my way up.

My hands are at Hermione's waist, over her shirt. I place my hands on both sides of her spine and begin a gentle massage. My thumbs are beside her vertebrae and I gradually increase the intensity of the pressure with my thumbs as I work my way up.

Hermione is making little noises of appreciation.

I bring my lips to her ear.

"More?" I ask, deepening my voice to make it sensual and allow one single word to mean many things.

"Uhmmmm," she replies.

I make circles with my thumbs along her spine, moving up to her neck and splay my hands across her shoulder blades. Slowly, I move my fingers together just in time to see green and silver sparkles raining down on us.

Drat.

"What is this?" asks Hermione drowsily, seeing the sparkles.

"It is a signal used in Slytherin to warn a couple who are behind a locked door that they are about to be caught by their Head of House," I mutter in disgust. "I suspect it is Jean's way of alerting us that others have arrived who will expect admittance to the cellar."

"At least we got some warning before an embarrassing interruption," sighs Hermione, getting up from the massage chair. "Jean seems very nice. She said she was a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in 1987."

"Those were good days," I confess, reminiscing. "There were two of us Slytherins on the staff and Slytherin consistently won the House Cup, due to athletic _and_ academic prowess."

Hermione is undoing the transfiguration of the massage chair. She pauses after returning the rickety piece of furniture to the usual corner and smiles at me sweetly.

"Two Slytherins," she says, eyeing me with just a hint of displeasure. "That must have been cozy."

I look up at the ceiling and scratch my chin as I remember. Unless I am reading the signals wrong, Hermione may actually be jealous.

Hermione is jealous of my friendship with another woman.

This is a new experience. Should I enjoy it or not?

I shall enjoy it. For a little while.

"Jean and I had mysteries we wished to solve," I admit, innocently. "We were convinced that the Chamber of Secrets was more than just a legend and spent a good deal of time searching for it. I was absolutely convinced the entrance had to be somewhere in the dungeons or in Slytherin house proper. I could not imagine that Salazar Slytherin would allow the entrance to be anywhere he could not directly control. It never occurred to me that he might use Parseltongue as the only means of accessing it, which meant he could locate it anywhere in the castle."

Hermione is doing her best to look like she is pleased on my behalf. Unfortunately, she is no actress when it comes to body language. She is holding her eyes wide, but her smile shows a hint of strain and her arms are crossed.

"There was also one occasion when we took down the wards in Albus' personal suite and turned all of his robes black."

Now, Hermione looks shocked as she drops her arms.

"You managed to take down Professor Dumbledore's wards?" she asks, astonished.

"We even warned him that we were going to try and do it," I boast.

There is a distinctive creak as the cellar door opens. I can hear Remus talking and footsteps on the stairs.

"It doesn't explain why things have been so quiet," says Remus, loudly.

"There is nothing exceptional about the level of criminal activity we're experiencing," declares Potter, forming a second set of footsteps coming down the stairway.

"I've been monitoring the reports," says Jean, following after them. "Overall criminal activity has dropped in the last three months and violent crime is down thirteen percent from last year."

Remus allows Jean and Potter to pass him at the bottom of the stairs. Once they have stepped by him, he goes back up the stairs and sits on the fifth step from the top where he cannot see the snakes.

He will get no harassment from me on that subject.

"Hermione!" calls Potter, spotting her. She rushes forward and the two of them are caught up in a hug that pulls her off her feet.

I suppose I shall have to learn to tolerate her friendship with that particularly annoying friend.

When he puts her down, Potter calls over Hermione's shoulder.

"Good to see you, Professor."

Perhaps Potter is making an effort, too. I will be polite.

"How is your apprenticeship proceeding?" I ask.

"Coming along fine," he replies. "Ron and I are looking forward to beginning our second year when we'll be able to operate a little more independently as Aurors. Right now, we can't go anywhere or do anything without being accompanied by senior Aurors."

"That's for your own safety," says Jean, hands on her hips. "It's also because apprentice Aurors can be a liability in a firefight, even if they are Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

"I realize that," says Potter, pulling up a laboratory stool and handing it to Jean. He takes another and hands it to me and the four of us sit down. "Before I apprenticed," continues Potter, "I had no idea how much teamwork is required when we're in the field. Anybody who isn't where they're supposed to be, when they're supposed to be there, can endanger everybody else."

"Which brings us back to the question of what is going on with the Death Eaters?" calls Remus from the stairs.

"I have no news," I call out, loud enough to be heard up the stairs. "But, I am not surprised that there has been no reported Death Eater activity. The Dark Lord has left his most trusted Death Eaters to guard the Malfoys. According to Dobby's most recent report, Lucius believes that the Dark Lord has left the country, but has no idea where he has gone or why."

"We're operating in a vacuum, again," grumbles Jean.

"Do you think he is putting everything on hold until after June 21st?" asks Hermione. "Isn't he expecting Madam Malfoy to be pregnant by that time?"

Only a very few Order members know that the Dark Lord intends to participate in a threesome with the Malfoys on June 21st in order to ensure that only he can possess the child conceived through use of the maiden brewed fertility potion. Jean and Remus know, but Hermione and Potter are not to be told. It is our hope that Draco will never find out this piece of news, either.

"That is possible," I answer carefully.

"There isn't any reason for the Dark Lord to be concerned that Madam Malfoy won't conceive, is there?" Potter asks Hermione. "The maiden brewed potion can't fail."

"It hasn't so far," replies Hermione, perplexed. "It has a one hundred percent success rate."

"All we can do is speculate," I remark, hoping to change the topic of conversation. "Until the Dark Lord says something to me or to the Malfoys, we are only guessing."

"You're right," calls Lupin down the stairs. "Guessing isn't productive without something to base it on. I suggest we move on to bringing Hermione up to speed on our progress with the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"Good idea," says Hermione.

-----------------------------

"From what you've shown me," says Hermione, "It looks like the glass orb is the most viable container. I think what I will do is spend the next day or two running the Arithmancy on the structure and see what happens to projections by varying the timing charms. Once I get a prediction for a stable formulation on the orb, we can see if we have it right that far. Then I can move onto trying different shielding charms."

"No offence, Hermione," says Jean. "That sounds like weeks of Arithmancy. You can't possibly do that in a few days."

Hermione gives her a wry smile, like there is something she knows that we do not.

"Actually, it is possible," says Hermione as she gets up from her stool and bends down to pick up her backpack. Opening it carefully, she lifts out a rectangular object and holds it up proudly. She places it on the laboratory table. Reaching into her backpack, she pulls out a black box with what looks like an electrical cord attached to it.

"If that's an electrical cord," says Potter, "It won't work down here. We disconnected all of the electric sockets in the cellar because of the amount of magic needed in the lab."

Hermione laughs and pushes the end of the cord into the rectangle.

"This has a sort of magic all its own," she says, mysteriously.

Pushing a latch on the front, she lifts the lid on the thin rectangle and turns the whole thing around so we can see something that looks like frosted glass on the top and a keyboard on the bottom.

"Is that a calculator?" asks Potter, pushing his eyeglasses up his nose.

A calculator? It is the size of a large book, perhaps an atlas. The keyboard must be for a computer. This is nothing like the computer I saw at Oxford when I took chemistry classes and certainly not like the ones I saw at Avalon College in the computer lab.

"This is Digital Magic's prototype MP-21J laptop computer, on loan to the Order," explains Hermione, proudly. "Mr. Schuler authorized for me to have it. It is considered to be top secret and there are only ten of them in existence."

"If it is supposed to work like Severus' calculator," says Jean, "It doesn't have that plastic sleeve on it."

"It doesn't need it," replies Hermione. "Adam Schuler's team is going to be so mad when they find out that Digital Magic already had research underway that would allow a computer to work in a magical environment."

"How does it work?" I ask, fascinated. Hermione must let me learn to use this wonderful device.

"The black box is the key," says Hermione, tapping it with her index finger. "In 1905, the Muggle physicist, Albert Einstein, proposed that energy can never be destroyed. It can become something else or go somewhere else, but it can't be destroyed. Some of the physics instructors at Avalon College have proposed that magic is a form of energy. They haven't quite figured out exactly what kind of energy, but they are working on it. According to Mr. Schuler, in the course of their research, they accidentally invented this black box. The internal mechanism is a secret and I'm guessing they really don't know why it works. It converts magical energy into electrical energy, which it stores in a battery. That's what powers the computer."

"Will it drain the wards or deplete our own magic?" I ask, alarmed.

"No," replies Hermione, firmly. "That's one of the things they don't understand about the black box. Magical energy is everywhere and the black box seems to draw from the general magical energy that is all around us. It doesn't draw on wards or even magic that we use when we cast a spell."

"If it doesn't have one of those plastic covers on it, like the CD player you gave me for Christmas, how does it keep the magic from burning it up?" asks Harry, craning his neck to watch as Hermione hit the "on" button.

"It doesn't need it," says Hermione. The protection of the internal workings is built into the plastic that makes up the shell. Mr. Schuler said that the internal components are self-contained in a case made with even more protection. That's one of the reasons the computer is not in mass production. Once made, it can never be opened up or repaired. Still, Mr. Schuler thinks it could operate at Hogwarts."

"The magic melted the calculator you asked me to test there," I remind her.

"That's why we're not going to take this to Hogwarts," she replies, teasing. "I couldn't afford to replace it if it melted."

"How much does one of these cost?" asks Harry. "I'd like to buy one."

"I asked the same question. Mr. Schuler said each one costs 332,000 dollars to make," says Hermione, wryly. "That converts to almost 68,000 galleons."

"Merlin!" says Jean, shocked.

"No wonder they are not selling them to the public," I remark. "Only the very wealthy could afford one."

"Mr. Schuler says that the life span of one of these is about one year before it stops working," replies Hermione. "That's why they aren't selling them at all, even though there are wizarding businesses and rich people who would buy them. Mr. Schuler says he won't sell any of them until they can keep one working for two years."

"You can do Arithmancy on this contraption?" asks Jean, looking skeptical as the screen lights up with the Digital Magic logo.

"The preliminary runs can be done on the computer while narrowing down the factors for the formula," explains Hermione. "The final equations have to be written out on parchment to run the magic."

"I use a lot of Arithmancy and would really like to see this at work," Jean comments. "Can you show me a basic equation that would predict the results of using Alohamora on an oak door with a standard goblin-made iron lock with no wards when using the single flick versus the double flick wand movement?"

"I can show you in a trice," declares Hermione, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

It is fascinating to watch the numbers and symbols of the formulae appear on the screen in full color. When I observed computer terminals at work when I attended Oxford in 1980, the screens were green and the words were yellow. The terminals were attached to a huge mainframe computer in another room.

Ten minutes of demonstration and detailed explanations later, the numbers and symbols on the computer screen show that the single flick will open the door wide enough for a person to pass through in 2.5 seconds. The double flick technique will open the door wide enough for a person to pass through in 3 seconds, but will probably wrench the door off the hinges and fling it into the wall.

"Excellent," announces Jean, shaking her head in amazement. "I wish I had an extra 70,000 galleons lying around. I think I like this computer thing."

"This equation was basic and really didn't require an answer as precise as if we were trying to determine exactly how much of a specific ingredient to add to a potion," says Hermione. "If we needed to know the time down to the millisecond and the exact force with which the door would hit the wall, I'd have to write it out and run the magic. This method helps define the factors and gives approximations, but doesn't have the refinements provided by magic on parchment and ink."

"I can see how you will be able to use this and save time by avoiding trial and error experiments on the Happy-Sleepy orbs," I tell her with an approving nod. This technology will help speed up our work considerably.

"I want to try it," says Jean. "Budge over, Hermione."

Hermione laughs and switches places with Jean. The two of them are laughing and enjoying themselves as Hermione guides her through the use of the computer.

My friend likes Hermione.

I am so pleased.

I would be more pleased if my Dark Mark was not burning. My right hand goes to my left arm. Potter is watching and realizes immediately what it signifies.

"Professor…" he says, alarmed.

Hermione and Jean stop what they are doing and gaze at me. Hermione is trying to hide her feelings and not succeeding at keeping her fear off her face.

"Keep working," I instruct them, getting up and reaching for my robe. My Death Eater garb is Reducioed and stowed in an inside pocket. "I will return here when I am finished."

Hermione starts forward, but stops as she remembers that we are not alone.

"I…," she begins.

Jean takes Hermione's arm and looks at me, reassuringly.

"We'll be waiting for your return," says Jean, glancing sideways at Hermione. "We have plenty of work to do. We'll be very busy until you get back and make your report."

Without saying it, Jean is promising to look after Hermione.

I nod in reply, grateful that Hermione is not alone. Potter and Remus are here, too. They will look after her.

I meet Hermione's eyes, seeing a pleading look. I cannot speak in front of others. I nod at her, too and depart.

-----------------------

It appears that the Dark Lord has returned to Britain.

This is a place I have been to before. I believe we are in a castle somewhere in northern Wales. From what I have seen of the exterior, it is one of the hill forts near the sea. There are still a few standing that were built before the Normans came under the mistaken impression that they had conquered Wales. I suspect that when Muggles come anywhere near it, all they see is a ruin on a hill. The wards are probably designed to engender feelings of being desperately afraid of ghosts and needing to seek the companionship of the living in the nearest pub.

The facility is primitive, but that is no issue for users of magic. Pettigrew, who has been rumoured to be traveling with the Dark Lord, greeted me at the outer door. We said little to each other, unclear as to our relative stations given that I am to become the Dark Lord's godfather when he enters his new body.

I was escorted to what would have been the main hall of the castle. In the warm light from the fireplace and torches on the walls, I see the Dark Lord in a throne-like chair by the fireplace. Across from him is another chair, occupied by someone I have not seen since the Dark Lord vanished in 1981.

It would be impossible not to recognize Ima LeDrox. Glossy dark brown hair sweeps her shoulders, pale skin gleams in the soft light, and the intensity of her piercing blue gray eyes is unforgettable.

It is difficult to forget the look of passion in her eyes that one only sees just after she has taken the life of a victim. She always seemed to find that… stimulating.

I bow to the Dark Lord. He lifts his hand to summon me. I stride across the room and drop to one knee before him, just as expected. The Dark Lord holds out his hand and I kiss his ring.

"Rise, Severus," he instructs.

I stand at attention before him.

"Surely you remember your sister among the Death Eaters?" he asks.

"I was only awaiting your permission to speak, Master," I reply formally. I turn to LeDrox and offer a bow. "It is good to see one of our most loyal Death Eaters returned to Britain, Miss LeDrox."

"Until our Lord returned," she replies smoothly as she rises, "We were all in exile, no matter where we were."

"Well said and entirely accurate," I reply.

Voldemort holds out his hand to LeDrox, who bows and kisses his ring.

"I wish to speak to Severus in private," says the Dark Lord. "You may retire, my dear. I bid you good night."

"Good night, my Lord," says LeDrox, her long skirts swishing as she glides gracefully across the room and makes her exit.

"Please sit down," instructs the Dark Lord, waving his hand towards the chair LeDrox has just vacated.

I take the seat and look attentively to the Dark Lord, waiting for him to begin. He looks at me and I feel the probe start. He skims the surface of my memories, taking occasional dips into deeper memories searching for specific things. He made a point of perusing my memories of LeDrox. I allow him to find memories of her hexing, cursing, and killing his enemies.

He is looking to see if she and I ever indulged, which we did not. I was not one of the ones she looked for when she wanted to satisfy her hungers. I wonder if he has forgotten that I am reputed to be impotent and to require a potion to address the condition.

The Dark Lord appears to be unaware of my manipulation of the memories he has seen.

"I am satisfied with your loyalty," announces the Dark Lord, leaving my mind.

"I am yours to command, my Lord," I reply respectfully.

"That pleases me greatly, Severus," he says in a companionable way. The Dark Lord waves his hand and two glasses of wine float to us from the table across the room.

"I have been considering the future," says the Dark Lord. "You cannot know how the idea of having a family pleases me." He stops to take a sip of his wine. "As my future godfather, I consider you to be an important part of that family. Therefore, it is my responsibility to ensure that you and the Malfoys are protected.

"Because of my immortality, we have the advantage of taking the long view," he continues. "The Path to True Power can be achieved through many different kinds of journeys. My first efforts to bring the wizarding world into the fold met with resistance. There were clear thinkers, such as you, who saw the appropriateness of preserving our culture, while establishing our superiority and preparing for our eventual rule. There were far too many who did not understand this and fought our efforts to take control of the future."

The Dark Lord releases a much put-upon sigh.

"Even I have lessons to learn and I believe that I have learned this one. As the one who has been given the vision and skills to bring the Death Eaters to the Way of the Dark Wizard, it is my responsibility to lead. In a choice between forcing others to my will and seducing them, I need to use enticement and seduction on more frequent basis."

He waves his hand down the length of his body.

"You and I know from personal experience that beauty of a face or body does not reflect the inner workings of the mind and soul. Since I used the Bone, Flesh and Blood spell to give myself a body, my features are not the most conducive to establishing trust in the minds of those who do not already know me."

The Dark Lord laughs and I offer a sympathetic smile in response. I may lack external beauty, but I am not a monster.

"Do not feel you need to try and persuade me otherwise," says the Dark Lord. "I know what I look like and the lack of health in this shell has not helped. Fortunately, when I move into my new body, my appearance shall be normal and may even meet the current standards of beauty. I do not aspire to such things because of foolish vanity. Physical beauty is nothing more than a tool. I will take advantage of every tool I have to facilitate change in our world."

He sets the glass down on the table and looks at me intensely.

"I shall use different methods this time around. With a new body and socially acceptable name, I shall use seduction first and violence as only a last resort. I shall influence others into following the Way of the Dark Wizard. My Death Eaters shall lead, rather than push.

"This means leaving some aspects of the past behind. In some ways, I must make a clean break with my past in order to have an unencumbered future."

The Dark Lord leans over and touches my hand in a manner that is supposed to be reassuring.

"I wish you to do some research and suggest alternatives. When I move into my new body, I will take a new name and establish a new identity. My loyal Death Easters will be given over to Lucius' command. Our organization will move into the background and work quietly, rather than overtly. We shall have time to reestablish ourselves in new and subtle ways, building influence throughout wizarding society.

"You and Lucius understand the value of patience and planning for the long term. Of all of my Death Eaters, you two are the most successful at this. You took your position at Hogwarts and Dumbledore's trust in you and turned them into a means of keeping yourself safe, gathering intelligence, and influencing future generations to our way of thinking. Lucius successfully defended his claim of having been subjected to the Imperius curse during the first war. That allowed him to build political influence that has served me well.

"Those are among the reasons that I have chosen you and Lucius to be my future family. It is also why I need your help to separate myself from my past."

The Dark Lord leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers before his noseless face.

"When I take my new body," he continues, "This shell will be abandoned." He drops his hands and grasps the arms of his chair. "It must be used to convince the wizarding world that Lord Voldemort is dead."

I gasp, as if in shock. My part must be played. "My Lord," I plead, "Do not put all of us through that again."

"It is an alarming notion," he offers, reassuringly. "But, it is for the best. We will focus on the future and not the past, so we must use every advantage we have. You are a brilliant strategist and I need those skills. This body can be reanimated long enough to be used in a scenario where Lord Voldemort is slain. I want you to think of a situation that we can set up where I can appear to be completely and permanently destroyed, including the core that was seen by Potter when I tried to take the Philosopher's stone. When that scenario plays out, it must be you who leads the Order's attack.

"That will firmly establish you as being loyal to the Order and remove any taint that your association with our movement may have placed on you. It will put you in position to become Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts once Dumbledore retires.

"If there is a way to include Lucius in this, I would like to see it happen. Of all of my Death Eaters, I want the two of you cleared of any suspicion or taint of the past."

I arrange my features to look both pleased and challenged.

"This is a difficult task, but I accept it," I begin. "I can see advantages to your plan. You sacrifice much to benefit your followers."

The Dark Lord tilts his head in acknowledgement of his _great sacrifice_.

"It is for the future of the wizarding world that we do this," replies the Dark Lord, deprecating. "There is more that I must ask of you. There is still a prophecy to dispose of. You must arrange for Potter to deliver what seems to be the killing blow. That will lull all into a false sense of security that the prophecy has been fulfilled. He will grow careless and we can do away with him in our own time.

"We have spoken of sacrifice, Severus," he continues. "In order to have the future that we need to spread our influence, we must build another kind of power. There are Death Eaters who pose a serious liability who must be sacrificed. When this body is destroyed to convince the wizarding public that Lord Voldemort is dead, some of our most loyal Death Eaters must die in the battle. All Death Eaters have sworn to sacrifice their lives for the sake of our cause. I must call in those oaths for the sake of the future.

"Sadly, our dear Bellatrix must die in our defense," he says, pensively. "Her time in Azkaban has damaged her mind and she has become a tremendous liability. We must have Rastaban and Rudolphus die in the attack. Their actions have been so public that they are beyond saving. Their relationship to Narcissa Malfoy is a taint on my future family, which cannot be allowed to continue.

"When I have had time to consider this further, I will give you a list of all of those Death Eaters who must give their lives to preserve this secret. There are some of the Inner Circle who can be salvaged and others who are so valuable that they must be hidden until I rise again. We will develop strategies to protect Pettigrew, Dolohov, Rutherford, and others. I have already determined a strategy to help LeDrox."

The Dark Lord smiles. The smile is inhuman and evil.

"It will come as a great surprise when the day arrives that I reveal that Lord Voldemort has risen yet again. With Potter and Dumbledore dead, we can move confidently into the future. We will begin the revolution that will change the wizarding world. You and Lucius shall be at my side when that happens. My right and left hands, my most trusted companions, and my family."

In the last six months, this monster attempted to rape me and Crucioed me half to death when he could not perform. He has subjected me to brutal mind probes, potioned me with Merlin knows what, followed up with an Obliviate that could have left me with brain damage. He has called me son, told me to be his godfather, and declared me to be family.

He made Bellatrix his mistress after she spent more than a decade in prison for his sake. Now, he wants me to plan her death alongside her husband and brother-in-law.

He the most evil and self deluded creature on the planet and I have no choice but play the part of his willing minion.

This is a moment that calls for high drama. I slide out of the chair and drop to my knees before him. I lift my head, hold my hands up in supplication and do my best to sound like the brainwashed Death Eater he believes me to be.

"I am more honored by your trust than I can even begin to express, my Lord. I am unworthy, but shall strive to meet your expectations and exceed them in all ways."

The Dark Lord places his hands beneath mine and draws them together, holding my hands within his grasp.

"You have always underestimated yourself, Severus. You stand high in my regard and have always done so. I will confess that I doubted you when I was resurrected, but it took only one conversation between us to allay all my fears and to help me understand the strategy you employed."

I bow my head in gratitude.

"Now, I must give you time to consider what I have told you," says the Dark Lord. "We have approximately ten months before my false death must take place. There is much planning to do to prepare for that day."

"I shall consider all of the possibilities, my Lord," I reply from my properly humble position. "I shall begin my search for appropriate magic. Fortunately, term will be completed in a month and I will dedicate the summer to developing the strategy needed to accomplish your goals."

"You will be Portkeying to Chicago tomorrow to begin Draco's instruction for his initiation?" asks the Dark Lord.

"That is our plan," I state. "His term is over, so he will have time to memorize the responses. Draco is determined to present himself well."

"Draco's reports about wizarding life in the United States have been impressive in their thoroughness," muses the Dark Lord. "I shall allow him to stay in the United States. What does he know of my plans?"

"Nothing, except for your intent to permit his initiation on the summer solstice." I shift slightly, my knees getting sore from kneeling. In truth, Draco knows everything except that the Dark Lord will require Narcissa and Lucius to participate in a threesome with him on the night he plans for the conception. He has enough on his mind without that providing further distraction.

"Good," declares the Dark Lord. "I shall tell him about becoming his brother after his mother is pregnant. It will be best for him to learn it from me."

"He will understand the honor you do him and his family." Draco already knows what an honor it will be to have a psychopathic baby brother.

"I look forward to establishing a completely new relationship with Draco," says the Dark Lord with a soft smile. "Just as I look forward to having a new relationship with you."

The Dark Lord holds out his hand and I kiss his ring.

------------------------

I have managed to have a meeting with the Dark Lord and walk away intact. It is because he needs me to put together his plan to kill off members of his Inner Circle who pose a liability to his new Malfoy identity. I should have realized that he had more in mind than having me as Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts to protect him while he is growing up.

Pettigrew, my silent escort, has returned to the castle and I am walking down the path towards the Apparation point past the wards. I am anxious to get back to headquarters and let Hermione know that I am unharmed.

Under different circumstances, the intelligence I have just gained about the Dark Lord's plans would be significant. I would meet with Albus and key members of the Order as swiftly as it could be arranged.

If the Order's plans for June 21st are successful, the Dark Lord's plans are irrelevant. He will be lying on a pallet in Azkaban in a Happy-Sleepy haze.

I hear a noise to my left and turn around, wand extended.

"It's good to see you again, Severus."

Ima LeDrox is coming towards me through the darkness. She moves as gracefully as one of the great predatory cats and is just as dangerous. I see her smiling and toying with her hair.

"It has certainly been a long time," I reply, inclining my head politely.

"There wasn't much choice about that," she says, silkily. "You've been sequestered with the urchins at Hogwarts, while I've been hiding out in Europe. Both of us have been doing our Lord's bidding."

LeDrox reaches out and places her left hand on my chest. She begins to toy with a button on my frock coat.

"We are in the Dark Lord's favor," she says, tilting her head to the side. "We have both demonstrated our loyalty in the battles of the last war and by accepting the deprivations our loyalty required during his disappearance." She smiles at me seductively, continuing to play with the button. "We are among the small handful who know of his strategy to reclaim his proper place in the wizarding world through his rebirth as a Malfoy."

Her finger, tipped in a long elegant nail, lifts to my chin and scrapes delicately across my lips.

"You've changed, Severus," she murmurs. "Some men need to grow into their looks and you have done so most effectively. You are very attractive, in the manner of a fallen angel. A very interesting fallen angel."

She comes closer.

"Your eyes are so compelling," she says, gazing deeply. "I could look into them for hours."

I make sure my Occlumency shields are firmly in place.

"You have such dignity and grace," says LeDrox, raising her face towards mine. "I suspect there is a certain…smoldering? Right there beneath the surface."

I can feel her breath on my lips.

"Given the chance," she whispers, "I think we could be quite…incendiary."

LeDrox closes the distance between us and captures my mouth in a passionate and skilled kiss. My arms go around her and I pull her up against me. She is tall and we fit together well. I give every impression of being interested.

She pulls her head back and looks at me, invitation in her eyes.

"We could make quite an alliance," she says with hushed urgency. "Two favored members of the Inner Circle with a bright future in our Lord's service. We could watch each other's backs while we wash each other's backs." She smiles enticingly. "Influence is being used to clear my name. Did you know that a Polyjuiced imposter committed all of those crimes I have been _so_ unfairly accused of?" She laughs. "When my name is cleared and my fortune restored, I will be looking to return openly to Britain and my proper place in society.

"The companionship of an accomplished wizard who is single and in search of a permanent relationship would be of great interest to me," says LeDrox, her voice beguiling. "Perhaps, I could even join you at Hogwarts. Our Lord will take the curse off of the position and I could be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Her hands come to rest on my shoulders.

"Weasley could meet with an unfortunate accident," she suggests. "Just think how much we could enjoy our time together. Surely, teaching would not require _all_ of our time. I can think of many things we could do _together_."

I give her a lazy look, as if I am seriously considering her offer.

"You understand that our Lord expects me to make Minerva McGonagall my mistress and run Hogwarts through her after Dumbledore retires," I explain in sibilant tones. "I doubt she will appreciate me courting another woman."

"The Dark Lord would accept it if she died of a heart ailment or some such thing. It would be so terribly sad and we would grieve for her," offers LeDrox, with dramatically false sincerity. "He already intends that you shall be Headmaster. She wouldn't be in the way for long."

The Dark Lord has told LeDrox a good deal about his plans.

"We would not need to decide anything tonight," I reply, making certain I sound taken by her charms. "I must return to Hogwarts or I shall be missed."

I pull LeDrox into my arms and give her the most passionate kiss I can muster. Unless she is faking her response, she seems eager.

I lift my head and release her slowly.

"I will look forward to our next encounter," I say softly, allowing my eyes to travel down her body.

"Oh, yes," says LeDrox, breathlessly.

I turn and walk the length of the pathway, making a point of turning to look back at her as I reach the door.

She is standing there, watching me as I leave.

This interesting development will complicate my life to a considerable degree. Ima LeDrox is a cold-blooded killer. She was the Dark Lord's preferred assassin during the last war. It is not in my best interest as a spy to ignore or discourage her. I may be a veritable Salazar Slytherin in the bedroom, but she could not possibly know that. As far as my fellow Death Eaters are concerned, I am unable to perform without aid of a potion.

I certainly do not consider myself available, even if I was interesting in having an affair with a serial killer. The thought of being unfaithful to Hermione makes me cringe. What I have found with her, I do not wish to share with anyone else.

Do I have any alternatives except to appear to play along with LeDrox?

Shit.

------------------------  
Author's notes

Oxytocin really does exist and works the way it is described here.

Thanks to all my reviewers: Pstibbons, Ems Adara, Angie S, Droxy, Lovechilde, Nottbook, Lipasnape, Yasmin, Mugglemomof3, Darque Hart, Kcole, Lyndie578, MollysSister, Spst, Snakegirl-Sprocket, Keske, MoreThanSirius, Laurenke1, Luvinthunder, Satay, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Yapyap, Sunsethill, Ebbe04, MysticSong1978, Puella Deorum, Murgy31, KimJo, GiggleGinny, Lady Slone, Mnokat, Pickles87, Villafoo, KGdiva, Princessfiona, o0morgana0o, Starbridge, Notwritten, Maddie50, Duj, Persevero, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Jade2099, Erytha, Andi-Scribbles, Koliber, RavenHairedMoon, David L. Schultz, Latinachikita, Danielle, PyroAngel8605, Seth7, Martyjeannine, Sweety-Pie5445, Oscarxena, Excessivelyperky, Kirien, Mekareami, Rinny08, Arime Setta, Squeaker19450, Perwinkle27, and LouHQ


	90. Chapter 90

It sure would be nice if I owned it, but I don't.

Thank you to two special people who have contributed significantly to this chapter; Julia for her continuing input into this story and Duj for her insights into Madam Long's culture and character.

--------------------------------------  
May 30th, 1999  
Severus  
Morning

Standing before the mirror in my bedroom at headquarters, I pull on my robe and adjust the shoulders so that the fabric falls smoothly over my coat. I tug on the sleeves so that the fabric extends smoothly through the arm slits. On this rare occasion, I have abandoned the billowing charm so that the magic does not interfere with the analysis of the Dark Mark. I systematically remove the other charms and hexes I have attached to the buttons on my clothing.

It is absurd that I am even bothering with this ritual. I have committed myself to this examination and will not back out of it. When I go to that bedroom upstairs, I will take off my robe and frock coat. The cuff will be unbuttoned so that I can roll up my left shirt sleeve. The Dark Mark will be revealed to the eyes of those who perform the examination.

I carry a mark of shame and a symbol of my freely accepted enslavement to a master who would destroy the things I have come to value. The skull and snake represents the gullibility and foolishness of my youth.

If carving the thrice damned thing off my arm would work, I would have done it twenty years ago.

My robes are like a protective shield around me, a barrier between me and the rest of the world. I detest feeling exposed and vulnerable. The most obvious case in point is dangling in mid-air with my robes falling away and revealing the dismal state of my underpants before the Marauders and their friends. My poverty and casual teenaged attitudes to hygiene were flaunted for the world to see. Those who were not there to witness my humiliation were told the tale by the perpetrators. Gryffindor taunts and laughter followed me for days.

Even Lily… But, that is neither here nor there.

I have taken the fine art of establishing clothing as a barrier to the highest levels. The buttons at my ankles ensure that my trousers cannot readily ride up and expose my legs. My starched white shirt has flared cuffs that extend one inch past my wrists and my collar very nearly reaches my chin. There are buttons on my trousers, including the pockets. The front of my frock coat has a row of small buttons running from the neck to my hips. There are five buttons at the cuffs of my shirt and an equal number at my wrists on the sleeves of the frock coat.

Anyone attempting to strip me against my will would have quite a job of it. If the buttons themselves did not slow them down, the hexes on the some of those buttons would.

Unless one is the Dark Lord, who can use his more powerful magic to remove clothing in one piece and place it neatly folded in front of you. I would rather not think about that occasion.

My clothing is a shield. Along with my temper and sarcasm, it forms a barrier to keep others away. It prevents others from getting too close.

It speaks volumes that Hermione persuaded me out of a significant portion of my clothing in order to massage my back. I have allowed her liberties with my person that no other woman has ever been allowed to take. She has seen the symbol of my shame on my arm and said nothing more than that it looks like a Muggle tattoo that moves.

I trust her. At the same time, there are many things I cannot confide to her. The full content of my meeting with the Dark Lord is one of those things. LeDrox's intent to seduce me is another.

Hermione was relieved when I returned uninjured to headquarters late last night. Potter had left some hours before to go on duty. Remus had already left to meet Professor Franks and Gerhardt Boch, who were Portkeying to an inn in Hogsmeade. Jean had stayed with Hermione and they kept busy all evening running Arithmantic projections on the computer.

I have rarely seen Jean more enthused than she is about that computer. Hermione may have to pry it from Jean's fingers when it is time to return it to Digital Magic.

I told Hermione and Jean that the Dark Lord wanted to discuss the meeting I have planned with Draco for this afternoon. I left out any reference to his request that I determine a way to use the empty shell of his body to convince the general population that he is dead. That information will be disclosed only to Albus and designated Order members.

Hermione tried to persuade me to let her remain at headquarters since she knew I intended to stay the night. She already knew that the Weasleys would not consider it appropriate, so she gave me only a half hearted argument about it. Instead, we settled for my escorting her back to the Burrow. Arthur was in the kitchen when we arrived. I exchanged pleasantries with Arthur, who then kindly allowed Hermione and me to be alone in the kitchen so that we could have a good night kiss without an audience. In truth, had there been an audience, there would have been no good night kiss.

I never thought that at the age of forty, I would be dealing with dating issues. I shall have to add some items to the list for the Claiming contract.

No curfew for dates. (Note to self: Think of a better term than _date_) I will bring Hermione back to the Burrow at a reasonable hour of our choice. Under most circumstances, midnight or 1 am would be reasonable. We should refrain from overnight visits, given that I do not wish anyone to think that I am only interested in one thing or do not respect my girlfriend. (Note to self: Continue to work on coming up with a better term than _girlfriend._)

Courting couples usually have chaperones.

Most courting couples have not created the Virgo Curato.

Maybe we should skip Claiming and go directly to elopement.

Perhaps, I should stop thinking about this since Hermione and I agree that there is too much we do not know about each other outside of a Potions classroom or laboratory. It is too soon to think about a permanent arrangement. Hermione has college to finish. We have a war to win and only Merlin knows what will come after that.

I am not going to think about how to handle the LeDrox situation right now, either.

----------------------------------

"You've managed to accomplish worthwhile research in this makeshift laboratory," says Gerhardt, leaning over the Runespoor cage.

The Runespoor is lazing on her enchanted heated rock. She is utterly still, except for the occasional flickering of a forked tongue from one of her three heads.

"We have made use of the resources we had available. Professor McGonagall is the most skilled practitioner of Transfiguration I know. She turned odds and end of junk furniture and debris into the laboratory tables and cabinets you see here. Everything else is a team effort."

Gerhard smiles as he looks at the clipboard inventory, dangling from the cord attached to one of the cabinets.

"I see Hermione's hand in this," he says, pointing to the form she developed. "We use something similar at the college."

"Granger has brought many useful ideas from Avalon," I reply. "The idea for the Happy-Sleepy potion came from one of your lectures."

"Roger Littlehorse told me as much," replies Gerhardt. "Hermione announced it when Dumbledore came to test her and Draco's Occlumency. I had no idea when Hermione and I discussed addiction in the wizarding world that it would send that brilliant brain of hers down a new path of research."

"Granger's brilliant brain has a way of making connections between things that the rest of us miss," I admit, proudly. "Her choice to study Muggle sciences and Potions can only benefit all of us in the long run."

"She has a promising future," agrees Gerhardt, leaning back against the lab table and folding his arms. "She has made contacts with influential people at various pharmaceutical companies during Margaret Schuler's cocktail parties. I had questions from some of them that lead me to believe that they are considering recruiting her for the fifth and sixth year internships. I'm confident that if Hermione decides to go on for further education in chemistry, there will be a fellowship to support it."

"It sounds as if you are hoping to keep her in the United States," I remark, carefully.

"Of course," laughs Gerhardt. "It's no different than our efforts to recruit you for Avalon's faculty."

"I thought I detected a note of interest when I visited the campus last year," I reply, pulling up a lab stool and offering Gerhardt one. I am pleased he has brought up the subject and shall allow him to expand on it.

"We weren't very subtle," says Gerhardt, accepting the seat. He sits down across from me. "I didn't see any reason to be. You have skills and teaching experience we would like to have on our staff. I see a laboratory like this, which should have been fine for brewing Pepper-Up or Dreamless Sleep potions and am astonished to realize that you created something as sophisticated as Happy-Sleepy here. You developed Wolfsbane at Hogwarts. I'm not easily impressed and you have impressed me."

"As I said," I reply modestly, "One makes do with the resources one has."

"Imagine what you could do with the kind of laboratory facilities that are available at Avalon," suggests Gerhardt. "Imagine having adult students who are eager to learn what you have to teach and who would be ecstatic at the thought of assisting you in research. I'll grant that the Hermione Grangers are the exception. She's the one in a hundred who has that level of talent. But, there are plenty of others who are intelligent, capable, motivated and hungry to learn.

"Think about it," he continues. "No more eleven year olds. No more disciplining students for bad behaviors or supervising detentions. No more checking to make sure that the rugrats are in bed instead of snogging in the corners. You'd be teaching adults who are paying for the privilege of being there and who take it very seriously. You can choose the research that interests you and use our resources to support it."

Gerhardt leans forward and makes his voice very persuasive. "Hogwarts is attached to your Ministry of Magic, so the salary ranges of the teaching positions are public information. I have some idea of what you are making and your room and board are considered part of your salary. You are badly underpaid.

"At Avalon College, your starting rate would include credit for your years of experience. It would be at least four times what you are being paid now, plus bonuses for publications and other incentives. If you come on board as a full-time faculty member, I am authorized to pay you a signing bonus of six month's salary up front. We will also pay expenses for your move and provide you with a place to live for three months while you find something more permanent in the Chicago area."

Merlin's mother.

I expected to be approached at some point, but not with a remuneration package like this. I am feeling rather gobsmacked at the moment, but a Slytherin is never without words, nor is the first offer ever accepted. I do believe I could enjoy being courted. It is far better than when I had to crawl to Dumbledore with my hat in my hand.

I tilt my head to communicate that I am interested, but not persuaded.

"I have obligations here," I reply.

"We fully understand that," says Gerhardt, leaning back. "You have a war to fight and I realize that we are approaching you too late to recruit you for this coming autumn. I assume you have already made a commitment to Hogwarts for the next school year. We're willing to think long-term and want you to consider this a standing offer for whenever you are free to accept it.

"If you are uncertain," he continues, "I would like to propose something for next summer. You'll know by the end of this summer if it will be possible for you to teach a special seminar for us during the summer of 2000.

"I have an idea for an advanced seminar that I've been kicking around in my head for a few years," Gerhardt explains. "Magical law enforcement agencies all over the world are looking for advanced training for their personnel in Dark Arts potions analysis and remedy development. This would be a four to six week summer class, depending on the curriculum that you develop. It would run six to eight hours per day, five days per week, including laboratory time.

"Imagine it," urges Gerhardt. "You would be teaching analysis techniques to Aurors and scientists from law enforcement all over the world. Instructing them about Dark potions and their properties and how to recognize the evidence they find at a crime scene. You can prepare them to spot the signs and symptoms of the most subtle poisons and how to brew antidotes.

"All of this with adults," he continues, lowering his voice to add emphasis. "Wizards and witches who are already experienced professionals in the field. Wizards and witches who have been sent by their governments to learn the kinds of things that they can only learn from you; a Potions Master who is also a Dark wizard who turned to the Light."

I have all I can do not to drool with anticipation. I have never dared to think about such a thing. The thought of this is overwhelming.

It would be a challenge.  
It would be exciting.  
It would be fun.

I cannot sit still. I need to stand up and pace. I often think better if I can pace.

I am Slytherin. I am Head of Slytherin. I am Salazar Slytherin's sexual heir. I will not so much as twitch and give anything away.

I realize that I am leaning forward with my right arm resting on the table. It is only my deep-seated habit of keeping my features unreadable that has saved me from gazing at Gerhardt Boch with a look of utter rapture on my face. As it is, it must be apparent that I have been hanging on his every word.

I slowly straighten my posture and make certain my dignity is firmly in place. My response must be businesslike. It would also be appropriate to indicate an interest in the proposition, but no guarantee of acceptance.

"Such a seminar would have possibilities," I reply, carefully. "You are saying that I would design the curriculum?"

"You would," he replies. "Over the years, I've had requests for certain kinds of information from different law enforcement bodies. I've kept track of them, thinking that they could be part of a training program. I'd like to pass the list onto you to consider."

"That would be helpful," I muse. "You understand that it would not be easy to fit all of this into a six week course."

"No," he says, easily. "It would be difficult to decide what to leave out, so you may want to sketch it out for a series of seminars."

"A series?" I reply, thoughtfully. This is a compelling possibility.

"It might be the only way to do the job right," suggests Gerhardt. "One on poisons, another on mind influencing potions, followed by one about potions used to escape various forms of detection, and so forth."

"When considering the Dark Arts," I reply, "The possibilities are endless."

"Exactly," affirms Gerhardt. "You have the knowledge to determine what might be the most important things to cover during the seminar and offer a reading list or study materials to cover the rest. There are no text books that have this information. You might be just the person to develop them."

I can see that Gerhardt has been thinking about what might serve as enticements. Avalon College wants to recruit me and I am in a frame of mind to allow it. Not only would it mean considerable career advancement and be quite lucrative, but Hermione is in Chicago. She is attending the college where I would be employed. Now that I think of it, that could be very convenient or a problem in terms of a conflict of interest.

There is also the pesky problem in that I am in the middle of a war.

The very thought brings me back down to the earth and the present.

In twenty-two days, there will be a battle at Malfoy Manor to determine the outcome of the war. After that, I will be free, in hiding, or I will be dead.

"I will consider what you have said and offered," I tell Gerhardt, meeting his eyes. "There is another priority that must be resolved before I can make plans for the future."

"I understand," replies Gerhardt.

I watch as his eyes travel down to my left forearm. There are times when I wonder if a mystical black light from the Dark Mark can blaze its way right through the fabric that covers it, allowing everyone to know that it is there.

After a moment, Gerhardt raises his head and looks at me.

"Professor Franks is upstairs reviewing her notes and Madam Long should have arrived with Mr. Lupin by now," he says. "We'll be joining them shortly so that they can confirm their findings by testing your Dark Mark. There is a question that I will ask of you so we can spare all of us the discomfort of one of them having to ask.

"When Grindelwald developed his Mark, he used blood as the bonding agent for new recruits," states Gerhardt in a businesslike tone. "Blood was added to a potion that the new recruits drank. For those who were being promoted into Grindelwald's inner circle, semen was substituted to create an even more potent bond.

"Professor Franks believes that the Dark Lord used semen alone as the binding agent. The method by which that bonding agent is introduced into the body is important for Professor Franks and Madam Long to know so they can deactivate it properly."

Gerhardt pauses to clear his throat. His tone of voice is dispassionate and clinical.

"Did the Dark Lord administer the binding agent through a potion to be drunk or did he require fellatio or sodomy as a joining method?"

There is no point in equivocating.

"Sodomy for men and vaginal intercourse for women." I am equally clinical in my response.

Gerhardt nods.

"Grindelwald used that method to promote the four members of the inner circle of his organization who served as his lieutenants. He also required them to drink a blood bonding potion. It provided for the strongest magical bond possible. It is one of the reasons why the two lieutenants who survived until the end died when Grindelwald did," says Gerhardt as he rises from the laboratory stool. "My father and his associate died within seconds of when Grindelwald fell."

I remember hearing of a Reinhard Boch, who was one of Grindelwald's most trusted advisors. Gerhardt would have been a boy during the war.

"I did not know that you had family high up in his organization," I reply. "I am sorry you had to go through that." My family life may have been abysmal, but at least I did not have that experience.

"It was a long time ago and I was young," says Gerhardt, shaking his head with regret. "I did not understand much of what was going on around me, but took the Grindelwald Mark as a member of the youth organization. I count myself fortunate that when it all fell apart, I had a relative in England who offered to sponsor me to Hogwarts. I have been given to understand that Albus Dumbledore used his influence with Headmaster Dippitt to arrange for my admittance. When I completed my education, I had the opportunity to apprentice with Master Jiggers. Once I had my papers, I immigrated to the United States to accept a position in an apothecary owned by a distant cousin.

"In the big picture of things," says Gerhardt, rising from his seat "It has all turned out for the best. But, enough about my history. We are about to test your Dark Mark to determine if Julia and Madam Long have analyzed it correctly. Grindelwald is fortunate that he didn't have Julia Franks and Judith Long undoing his work. After working with them, I'm confident that Grindelwald wouldn't have stood a chance."

"That is reassuring to hear," I reply, hoping that he is not being overly optimistic. "They will shortly risk exposing my disloyalty to the Dark Lord. Any error on their part will alert him that a Dark Mark is being tampered with. A few more seconds and he will know who the culprit is."

"They haven't tipped off any evil overlords, yet," says Gerhardt, reassuringly. "Julia has a remarkable sensitivity to the magic associated with slave marks. Madam Long is highly intuitive and can usually tell when the magic Julia uses is getting just a little too close to triggering any of the alarms built into the marks.

"I've suggested more than once if the mark breaking business slows down, they could always get into curse breaking and make a lot more money," laughs Gerhardt.

"Fortunately for me," I retort, "They do not seem to have taken your suggestion."

We both have a quiet tension-relieving laugh before I go upstairs to face the consequences of my youthful stupidity.

-------------------------------

Professor Frank's hair really does remind me of Hermione's. It has curls and waves that threaten to take control and do as they please, rather than what she wants. At least that is how Hermione describes her own hair. Her manner is very like Hermione's or at least what it will be like in twenty years time when Hermione has more of the assurance that comes to an adult who has demonstrated their competence many times over.

She is eminently professional as she asks me a series of questions about the Death Eater initiation ceremony.

I am doing my level best to appear dispassionate in my responses. The fact that I am mortified to be describing the vows I took as a Death Eater does not seem to have escaped Madam Long.

I do not doubt that Madam Long and Professor Franks are talented Legilimens. I am grateful that I am a skilled Occlumens. The patterns of the memories that come to the front of my consciousness would reveal… too much.

In spite of my ability to hide such things, every time I meet Madam Long's eyes, I feel as if she knows anyway. She is far too perceptive. It is a good thing she does not aspire to become a Dark Lord. Whether it is intuition or some other form of magic, she sees more than I want her to and the condition of my soul probably would not bear close scrutiny.

"Did you promise obedience to the death or beyond death?" asks Professor Franks, continuing her questioning.

"Obedience to the death," I reply, raising an eyebrow. "I did not know a master could enforce obedience beyond death."

"A few have tried," replies Madam Long. "We have found reports of the ghosts of three bond slaves attending to their former masters. We don't know if they stayed because they were so intensely loyal to their masters or if they were compelled to do so by their bonds."

"I have seen no signs of any shades of the Death Eaters who died in the first war flitting about the Dark Lord," I reply.

"I am curious," comments Professor Franks. "The ritual you described and the oaths you took bear a strong resemblance to a religious ritual. Is the Dark Lord presenting himself as a religious leader?"

"He portrays himself as a prophet," I reply. "Since the days of the first war, he presented himself as the one who could lead others down the Paths to True Power as dark wizards."

"Cult leaders often start that way," she observes, nodding. "Whether or not they believe it to be true, they present themselves as having special knowledge gained through a spiritual epiphany or having received a message directly from God."

"The Dark Lord implies that he has received a special message, though he has never said that it was from God," I reply, shaking my head. "He has said that he gained special knowledge through his journeys throughout Europe and the Middle East, exploring Dark magic developed in other cultures. I would not be surprised if he communed with Dark entities summoned from the Darkest of places. He claims that wizards are the Chosen People."

Madam Long snorts.

"Tell him to get in line. There's a prior claim on that title." Madam Long looks amused.

"He may be borrowing freely from several different religions," says Professor Franks. "If he claims to be the product of an Immaculate Conception, there's a prior claim to that, too."

This must be a private joke between them, because both witches burst into laughter.

"Don't mind us," says Professor Franks, "Judith and I have been discussing and debating theology and ethics since about two minutes after we met."

That has both women laughing even harder.

Gerhardt and I look at each other helplessly.

Madam Long quiets first.

"Julia and I have consumed innumerable pots of tea and the occasional pitcher of Coca Cola in the course of our discussions," she says.

Professor Franks nods in agreement.

"I'm the chairperson of the American Council on Ethics in Wizardry," explains Professor Franks. "I am always thinking about issues of ethics and the practical application of personal ethics to daily life."

"Judaism calls for regular self-examination to see how we measure up to Talmudic law," says Madam Long, taking up the explanation. "That is the basic standard of ethical behaviour, and to holiness, which is the level above; striving for perfection, one might say. We aim to live consciously rather than instinctively, to train ourselves to be fully aware of the wider implications of everything we do. So, Julia and I have lively discussions about religion and ethics."

"We agree on many things," adds Professor Franks, nodding towards Madam Long. "The basis of ethical treatment lies in treating others as we want to be treated ourselves. One of the ways I like to explain it is to think in terms of one's own children. Would you want someone to treat your own child in a particular way? If not, then you shouldn't treat anyone that way, either."

"Which I can certainly agree with," clarifies Madam Long, "But for an Orthodox Jew, it must also fall within the parameters of Talmudic law. That includes laws governing aspects of daily life, including contracts, dietary practices, and ritual purity, to name a few."

"I can see why those discussions might get lively," interrupts Gerhardt. "To say nothing of the strong personalities of the witches involved."

"I don't think anyone has ever accused either of us of lacking opinions or the willingness to express them," laughs Madam Long.

"Which brings us back to the business at hand," announces Professor Franks. She stops the Dictoquill and looks through the notes it has taken. "It looks like we have everything I need to get started."

Madam Long joins her and they talk quietly. Gerhardt starts rolling up his sleeve, which is my signal to begin the process of baring my arm. I remove my robe and drape it over a chair. My coat follows. My right hand hesitates as I reach for the buttons on the cuff of my shirt. I fumble with the first button and realize that I have turned away from the others in the room.

I will delay exposing the Dark Mark to their view for as long as I can.

Gerhardt is already lying down on his treatment table. My own is right behind me.

"We're ready for you, Professor Snape," says Professor Long, gently.

I shall not permit my own embarrassment to slow down the process. I square my shoulders and turn around. I continue rolling up my sleeve as I sit down on the treatment table. Madam Long is standing at the head of the table, waiting to begin her assessment of my physical condition. I take a deep breath and lie down.

Professor Franks stands beside me and looks down reassuringly.

"We will begin by taking standard readings about your general health and a description of the Mark. Judith will be monitoring your physical condition along with Gerhardt's. I will establish the resonance between your Dark Mark and Gerhardt's Grindelwald Mark. If I do it properly, you will feel nothing. Gerhardt will feel a tingling in his Mark.

"If the resonance between the Marks begins to encroach on the magic that will trigger any of the alarms or punishment signals built into your Mark, Judith will probably detect it before you do. However, if you start to feel anything at all in your Mark," she says emphatically, "Tell me immediately and we will stop.

She turns to Gerhardt.

"If you feel anything other than the tingle, let us know."

"I know the drill," he says, cheerfully.

Professor Franks looks at me again.

"I'm going to go layer by layer at a high rate of speed through Gerhardt's Mark," she continues. "I'll be asking a lot of magical questions, all of which will be non-verbal. The readings will appear in firespelling above you and Gerhardt. Julia will be reading them aloud for our transcript.

"This session is to confirm information that we obtained when we did the analysis on Mr. Crouch's Dark Mark. I will also be looking for other information we didn't get the first time, based on what you have told me. When I have finished the process, Judith and I will work together to shut down the resonance between the Marks.

"Do you have any questions?" she finishes.

"It is the same as what you did with Crouch," I reply, turning my head to nod at the mirror. "I was watching through the mirror."

"So, that was you?" comments Madam Long, her hand moving above my head. "We knew we were being watched and thought it might have been the Order's marked secret agent."

"Professor Dumbledore coerced me into agreeing to watch," I sigh. "I did not believe you could conduct an analysis without triggering the Dark Lord's awareness."

"Your caution is perfectly understandable," says Madam Long. "Given the things that can be done to one through a mark like yours, anyone would be reluctant to take a chance. We often don't get a chance to help until the person who is marked is desperate."

I cannot reply. I would say that with June 21st rapidly approaching, the situation is desperate.

Madam Long's remarks are intended to offer an opportunity to open up discussion. I cannot take advantage of it. Professor Franks seems to realize this.

"If you have no questions," she says, "We should proceed."

I close my eyes in response.

-------------------

I am sitting up and rolling down my sleeve so that I may once again bury the Dark Mark beneath layers of fabric.

The analysis was successful. Looking at the clock in the room, no more than ten minutes have passed since I closed my eyes. It felt much longer than that.

I lift my head and look at Professor Franks and Madam Long, who are examining the notes recorded by the Dictoquill.

This whole session has left me feeling as if I have left something unsaid and unfinished. These two witches have accepted this mission, because they feel it is the right thing to do. I can understand that, being in the same position myself. If it becomes necessary to break the Dark Mark, I will be even more beholden to them than I am now for what they have already done.

My coat and robes are back in place. I feel much more myself after donning my armor. I have something I must say to these two ladies. Gerhardt has gone down to the kitchen in search of some coffee and I will take advantage of this opportunity.

I join them at the table and we spend a few minutes going over the results of the testing.

"We can break the Mark," announces Professor Franks. "We will start by removing the active connection between the Dark Lord and your Mark by magically convincing it that you are dead. You won't be, but we have successfully used this technique on several occasions. It prevents the punishments built into the Mark from activating. Then, we will remove the magic from the Mark one layer at a time until it is completely deconstructed. Without the link, the Dark Lord won't be able to locate you. Unless someone tells him otherwise, he will believe that you are dead."

"Do you think you can live with that?" asks Madam Long in a teasing voice.

"Happily ever after, Madam," I reply, with a bow. "Thank you. You have done me a great service and may call upon me for repayment."

"You're welcome," replies Professor Franks, looking up at me. "You know that we haven't performed the actual service, yet. We understand that something is going to happen on June 21st that might require us to neutralize your mark."

"We will be standing by in Chicago on that date," says Madam Long. "If the moment comes where you need us, you must come to Chicago."

"Arrangements have been made for that," I reply. "There may be as many as three other people with me who will need your assistance."

The two witches exchange glances.

"I appreciate the advanced warning," says Professor Franks. "Is there anything we should know about their situation?"

"One of them has been marked a few years longer than I have," I explain. "If the other two need help, they will be newly marked. If that is the case, they will be traumatized. Their Marks may have some additional components that will injure or kill them if the Dark Lord is injured or killed."

"We'll need to make certain that a Healer is available," comments Madam Long to Professor Franks. "Perhaps someone from our group?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," replies Professor Franks. "I'll arrange for it when I get back to Chicago. We may have to do some magical improvisation with any additional layers we find in their Marks."

"I will do some research," says Madam Long. "I have located a rather obscure text that is supposed to say something about layered bonding magic designed to duplicate injuries of the master in the bond slave."

"Before you leave," I begin, "I feel you should know that I have given much thought to what you revealed about the nature of the magic used by Dementors to keep their victim's bodies alive." This is an uncomfortable confession. "I was unaware that the magic was almost the same as the magic that creates the Inferi. That new piece of knowledge has forced me to rethink what I believe about just forms of punishment."

I adjust the cuff on my left sleeve. It keeps me from having to look at the two witches.

"I rejoiced when Barty Crouch was given over to the Dementor," I admit. "He was almost as vile as they were. For years, I have maintained a mental list of those I considered to be worthy of The Kiss."

I adjust the cuff on my right sleeve.

"I will not deny that I would like to see justice done to the people on that list," I add. "Having witnessed the results of their actions, an eye for an eye would give most of them a rather gory and excruciating ending. I must confess that an eye for an eye would not necessarily dispense justice."

I adjust my robe so it drapes properly.

"I have come to realize that if my wish list had come true, at least one person would have been Kissed who was discovered to be innocent of the crimes of which he had been accused."

My collar is a bit tight, so I adjust it.

"With that realization and a new understanding of the implications of being Kissed, I have concluded that the use of The Kiss is just as immoral as the crimes they committed. I will no longer support the use of The Kiss. We need to find other ways to deal with violent criminals, instead of allowing monsters to eat their souls and leave their bodies behind to become cousins to the Inferi."

Having said my piece, I raise my eyes to meet theirs.

"Thank you," says Madam Long, softly. Her wise eyes communicate understanding. She somehow knows that it …costs to admit that I was wrong.

"If you will help others to understand the nature of The Kiss," replies Professor Franks, "You may help to change your society's attitude towards allowing it. Social change begins with one person who decides that something needs to be different."

"It is more likely that British wizarding society will listen to Albus Dumbledore than to me," I explain. "I will be speaking to him and our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher about including this information in our curriculum."

Professor Franks offers an encouraging smile. "That would be an excellent beginning."

"I can offer some written material on the subject," says Madam Long. "It is the source material for my own research. I have promised copies to Julia and it would be no difficulty to make an extra copy for you. However, it is written in Hebrew. The translation charm I used may not have done a perfect job on the English translation."

This may be one occasion when my father's expertise in translation charms might be useful.

"I know of an excellent translation charm that I would be willing to share."

I spend a few minutes instructing the two witches on how to use my father's sophisticated Hebrew to English translation charm. As we talk, I demonstrate wand movements and write down instructions for the complex charm. I cannot help but think that this may be one way to repay them for their kindness. They are right. One person at a time, we may be able to change society's attitude about Dementors. Perhaps that would be a worthy repayment for their kindness.

-----------------------------  
Afternoon

"I agree with the American Mediwizard," says Ellen to Hermione, as she takes a seat at the laboratory table. "You should avoid Legilimency for a few weeks. I understand the necessity of Albus' using rough tactics to test your Occlumency, but he could have caused an aneurism."

"Albus said that you blacked out during his probe," I remark, concerned. If Albus used the same techniques as the Dark Lord, he could have caused brain damage. On two occasions, I have seen the Dark Lord Legilimize someone until they were literally bleeding out of the nose and ears. It preceded their executions.

"It left me with a headache and queasy stomach," replies Hermione. "I've been fine since then." She offers a bright smile. "There isn't any reason I should run into a situation where strong Legilimency would be used on me. I'm confined to headquarters and the Burrow, except when I'm in Chicago. No one is going to go after my memories among the people that I'm likely to run into."

"You're probably right," says Ellen. "Still, I recommend that you or Severus brew a batch of Blood Vessel Strengthening potion and that you take the standard dose. That should be a sufficient preventative in case you have any weak spots in your cranial blood vessels that could result in an aneurism years from now."

"I'll have plenty of time to brew it tomorrow," says Hermione. "Severus can check it before I take it, since it is a Master level potion."

"Your skills should be sufficient to make it safely," I confirm. "I will check it, just to make certain. At this stage in your training, advanced potions brewed under supervision are well within your capabilities."

Hermione's features light up at the words of praise. It is surprising how little it takes to make her happy.

Reaching into her waistcoat pocket, Hermione draws out a letter. She opens it up and looks at Ellen.

"You mentioned that your daughter just completed her solicitor's apprenticeship and started working in a wizarding law firm?"

"Yes," replies Ellen, beaming. "Mark and I are so proud of her. She's smart and has a real way with words. I have every confidence she will be a huge success as a solicitor and she will eventually be a partner in the practice she's joined."

"I got a letter from the solicitor who is handling my parents' estate," said Hermione. "He passed on the responsibility to a new solicitor in the practice who just happens to be named Kendra Smith. This letter is from her."

"An official letter from my daughter, the solicitor," laughs Ellen, leaning forward and craning her neck to she can see it better. "If it isn't terribly private, could I read it?"

"Certainly," replies Hermione, handing it to Ellen across the table. "She's just giving me a report on the renovating that's being done to my parents' house. We've been trying to sell it and have had a terrible time of it. At first, I thought that because my parents died in the house, people were reluctant to buy it. Of course, the Muggle world thinks they died of carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty furnace.

"I had them replace the furnace," Hermione continues. "It still didn't sell. The real estate agent decided it was because the house needed updating. He said it was 'too stuck in the seventies' for the price. I'm hardly up on what's fashionable in the Muggle world, so I took the agent's advice. They had a new kitchen put in, removed the carpets and had the wooden floors sanded and varnished and stripped the wallpaper and painted the walls. Now, they want to start on the garden."

"According to this," murmurs Ellen as she peruses the letter, "You'll more than recapture the investment in the sale price."

"They'll be able to sell it for one third more than what they originally thought, just by making these changes," Hermione comments. "I'll be glad to get it off my hands. Under the circumstances, I really don't want to live there or go back to visit."

"Your life is firmly established in the wizarding world," says Ellen, handing the letter back to Hermione.

"It is," says Hermione, sneaking a glance at me that I do not believe Ellen saw.

Correction. Ellen did see it from the knowing look she is now giving me.

Hermione is looking back down at the letter.

"There is one thing I should do before they start tearing up the overgrown shrubs," says Hermione, softly.

"What would that be?" I ask, curious.

"Dad's lilac bush," she says, looking up at me. "When Mum and Dad bought the house, he took a cutting from the lilac bush at my grandparents' home. He planted it in the garden. It grew to be enormous, because Dad would never prune it back. My mother would complain about it every year and threaten to hack it out. Then, spring would come and she'd open the windows to catch the scent of the flowers on the breeze. She loved that lilac bush, but would never admit it. Their annual argument over the lilac bush was a family tradition."

"You want a cutting from the lilac bush?" I ask.

"I could plant it at the Burrow," says Hermione, wistfully. "Then, someday…"

We both have the same thought, but leave it unexpressed.

"Ron and Harry will be here later today," she says. "I can ask them to get it for me. It shouldn't take long and the landscaping company wouldn't be working there on Sunday."

"As long as you do not go," I say, putting a little threat into my voice.

"I know," she replies, smiling. "Headquarters and the Burrow are my limits. I'll behave."

"See that you do," says Ellen, sternly. "As long as the Death Eaters have instructions to snatch you and deliver you to the Dark Lord himself, you have to be careful." Ellen rises from her laboratory stool and picks up her Healer's case, preparing to leave.

"I have to be on duty at St. Mungo's in half an hour," she announces. "I have a busy week ahead, so if I'm needed here for any reason, be sure to owl or firecall. Otherwise, I'll be back next Saturday."

As soon as we hear the cellar door close, I move swiftly to place the Imminent Diarrhea jinx on the doorknob. Hermione is busy transfiguring the old chair in the corner into a loveseat.

Our loveseat.

There is nothing quite like sitting comfortably with Hermione snuggled against me, resting her head on my shoulder. Some very positive things have happened today and I am inclined to feel uncharacteristically optimistic about the future.

My right hand is toying with her hair as I mentally count the days until Hermione's period should be over.

The middle of the week.

So much for our one kiss agreement or our intentions of keeping our hands off of each other. Having established an intimate relationship with Hermione, I am eager to explore it further. I have kept the Dark Lord out of the secret Potions storeroom in my head and I believe that my Occlumency is sufficient to keep him away from my memories of Hermione. Hermione has learned how to Occlude her mind, using the Navajo techniques. If she is agreeable, it is possible to pursue our sexual relationship.

She did say that she was in favor of _regular healthful orgasms_.

I am certainly in favor of regular healthful orgasms.

It is good for our oxytocin levels, which can only further enhance the chemistry in our relationship. Regular sex would be good for us emotionally _and_ physically.

Given the way Hermione likes to cuddle up to me and encourages touch, I am certain I could persuade her.

Hermione will be here most of the time. She is running Arithmantic projections on possible ways to create a workable container for Happy-Sleepy. She will also be doing some brewing for the Order.

I intend to be here for at least a short time each evening and longer periods of time when we are working on the container.

I look around the lab. There are four Happy-Sleepy snakes, one Runespoor, and a few of the extra non-addicted snakes in their pen. Hermione and I are not going to indulge down here, especially when Potter can have a conversation with the Runespoor. The snake is too intelligent for its own good and might describe our activities in detail. Besides, this is a laboratory and it would set a bad precedent.

We could use my bedroom, if we could get the others out of the house. Remus would probably cooperate with making himself scarce. I would find it inhibiting to indulge if Potter and Weasley were in the building, to say nothing of the fact that I might find a wand pointed at my neck at an inopportune moment.

Hermione said something about sending them out for pizza. If they would cooperate, I would pay for it.

"Severus?" says Hermione, softly.

"Hmmm?" I reply. The way her hair curls around my finger is fascinating. It is surprisingly soft for curly hair.

"What would we have done if I had been pregnant?" she asks.

Now, that is a bucket of ice water to the face.

I had better handle this right. Our relationship and my future sex life may depend on it.

"If you had agreed to it, we would have got married as soon as possible," I reply, stroking her hair.

"Is that what you would really have wanted or would it be just because of the baby?"

I may not feel ready for the responsibility of fatherhood, but I certainly do not want Hermione to feel that I would not want a child I had fathered. If Hermione was pregnant, I suspect she and the child would be a package deal. I may be uncertain about children, but I am certain that I want Hermione.

"By necessity, we would bypass Claiming," I explain, carefully. "We intend to go into Claiming to explore our compatibility for a permanent relationship. Even so, I trust enough in our compatibility that I would be willing to take the risk of marrying. It would be the right thing to do for the child's sake and for our own."

Hermione turns her head so she can meet my eyes.

"How do you honestly feel about having children?" she asks

I cannot be anything but honest in my answer.

"I have mixed feelings," I reply, gently. "It is not an objection to children so much as it is a concern about my ability to be a good father. You know something of what happened between my parents. My paternal role model was appallingly bad."

Hermione turns in my arms so she can hold me.

"I don't know much about your childhood," she says, her eyes full of warmth. "It was terrible, wasn't it?"

"There were good times," I answer, brushing her hair back. "I was close to my mother and I have memories of her that I cherish. My father was very controlling. He was not open to the idea of her having a life with friends outside of the immediate family, which kept us isolated. He angered easily and took it out on my mother. I was under strict orders from her to stay in my room whenever he was in one of those moods or was drinking."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," says Hermione. She reaches up to stroke my face. "Are you concerned that you'd be like him?"

"I am like him in some ways," I admit. "I have a temper and I have always tended to keep to myself. I am capable of holding a grudge for decades at a time. There is capacity for great rage inside me. My anger and bitterness do not always require much in the way of provocation to rise to the surface. These are very much a part of me, as real as the Dark Mark that I asked for and worked hard to earn in those times."

With all of the tenderness I can muster, I reach out my hand and draw Hermione's head against me. I just want to hold her. She seems to be able to forgive me when I cannot forgive myself.

Hermione allows it. We remain wrapped up in each other until she breaks the silence.

"Those things are part of you," she says. "They are not all you are."

Hermione takes my hand and kisses it.

"You are the man who fought his way through fear to create the compassion that is Wolfsbane."

She kisses my first knuckle.

"You turned your back on bitterness and went to Dumbledore and offered to spy."

Her lips are against my second knuckle.

"You loved Draco enough to risk the Dark Lord's wrath by suggesting he come to Avalon."

My third knuckle is next.

"You kept Harry on his broom when Quirrell was trying to knock him off."

The fourth knuckle has her attention.

"You let me talk and cry on your shoulder on top of the Astronomy Tower."

And, now my fifth knuckle.

"You locked me here in this cellar and let me fall apart so you could put me back together."

Hermione turns my hand over and kisses my palm.

"You lay down with me on the floor of your sitting room to keep me warm when everything was ice."

Hermione wraps her hands around mine, capturing the kiss that makes my palm tingle within my closed hand.

"You are those things, too," says Hermione, gazing into my eyes. "I love you."

Maybe there are good reasons to feel optimistic about the future.

Including the hope that I may have sex, soon.

-------------------------  
Author's notes:

May 30th was too long a day to fit into one chapter. It will continue in Chapter 91.

Thank you to my reviewers: Selinabin, Martyjeanine, Lee Swain, Darque Hart, Nutters4Potter, Arsenoe de Blassenville, Yapyap, Curikitten, Laurenke1, Murgy31, T wrecks, MollysSister, Sunsethill, Lyndie578, Koliber, Eoreos, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Droxy, LoveChilde, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Latinachikita, MoreThanSirius, Lipasnape, KimJo, CharmedForce, Andi-Scribbles, Squeaker19450, Danielle, Pickles87, Smiles 28, Jade2099, Sirius Desires, Lady Slone, Clever Lass, Notwritten, Princessfiona, HumbleMaster, Magicdaisy, o0morgana0o, Ebbe04, Duj, Jocemum, Rinny08, Keske, Maddie50, Puella Deorum, Erytha, Quiet-mg, Oscarxena, Mela, Seth7, Arime Setta, Sweety-Pie5445, Rif, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Excessivelyperky, Kristine Thorne, Villafoo, PhantomPhluter, PrincessSnuffles, and Irishgirl686


	91. Chapter 91

I don't own it. Wish I did.

Thank you to Julia for her input into this chapter. The remarkable Katyes has translated 80 chapters of "Looking for Magic" into German. That's amazing.

-------------------------------  
May 31st, 1999  
Afternoon  
Severus

Hermione and I have decided that we will revisit the issue of having children when she is thirty. She wants two children. I am open to the possibility, if I can demonstrate that I can live in a relationship with Hermione without my temper becoming an issue. If I cannot live with Hermione and keep my temper under control, I would make a poor father. I suspect that if my temper were a problem, Hermione would have long since decided that I am a bad bet and sent me packing.

All the more reason to moderate my temper.

By the age of thirty, Hermione anticipates having completed her education. She wants to pursue advanced Muggle education, but is uncertain whether it should be in chemistry or medicine. Each has advantages which could help her attain the goal of creating new medicinal potions. Hermione believes that diagnostic tools and research being conducted in the Muggle sciences will provide information about disease that could revolutionize how we treat disease in the wizarding world.

As a Muggleborn, Hermione would have a distinct advantage in trying to combine Muggle science with potions development. The original ideas for the Cruciatus treatment and Happy-Sleepy came out of what Hermione has learned about neurotransmitters. I would never have known about my new favorite neurotransmitter, oxytocin, had Hermione not learned of it from Muggle science.

I fully support Hermione's ambition. She deserves to be the kind of wizarding scientist she aspires to. If working for a pharmaceutical company developing new potions will satisfy her intellectual needs, she should have that opportunity.

We did not have time to discuss Gerhardt's offer of employment at Avalon College since I had to leave to meet with Draco this afternoon. There would be distinct advantages for both of us, if I accepted the position. It would bring me to Chicago, where she is already living. It would allow me to shed the baggage I carry with me as a former Death Eater. Clearly, we have much to discuss about our future. Gerhardt is correct when he says that I would be a better teacher of adults than I am of children.

There is also much to be said for earning four times what I earn now. If they want me badly enough, I may be able to negotiate for an even better remuneration package. With a recruitment bonus, incentives for publications and the rest of it, I could be comfortably off. I wonder what the cost of living is in Chicago? I shall have to ask Hermione.

Right now, I have to leave.

I am standing beyond the wards in the backyard at headquarters. Pulling out my Portkey, I give the password and depart.

Several stomach turning whirls later, I have arrived in the transportation room at Draco's apartment building. Unlike the concrete block walls and tile floor in the room at St. Germain Hall, this transportation room has fine wood paneling on the bottom half of each wall. A Malfoy would want the spells that make a transportation room work anchored in wood. It makes for a smoother landing.

Opening the door, I exit into the lobby of the apartment building. It is comfortably furnished with a sofa and chairs. The most welcome sight of all is that of the boy who has been like a nephew to me since the day he was born.

Draco is pale, but smiling. He is standing tall and straight in the proper manner of a pure-blood heir of a prominent family who is waiting to greet a close relation.

"Welcome to my home, Severus," says Draco "Or at least to the lobby of it."

"It is good to be here," I reply. "Good to be away from Britain, even if it is just for a few hours."

"I understand," replies Draco, pointing the way towards the stairs and falling into step beside me.

We are careful to keep our conversation casual as we make our way up the flights of stairs to his apartment on the top floor. By the time we reach the door, I have informed him that Slytherin will capture the House Cup this year. Ravenclaw has earned more points for academic work. Gryffindor will take the Quidditch cup. However, Ravenclaw is abysmal at Quidditch and Gryffindor (lacking Hermione) is in third place for academic work. Slytherin is in a respectable second place in both categories, which translates into first place for House points.

Slytherin strategy wins again. Stealth will win over crass enthusiasm or unimaginative intellectual plodding every time.

Closing the door behind us, Draco's wand moves as he adds layers of wards on top of what is already there. When he is done, I add more wards that were suggested by Bill Weasley.

Schuler may be our ally, but there are things best kept between Draco and myself. Anyone who is listening with electronic devices will hear only unintelligible mumbles. I signal Draco that it is safe for us to talk.

"How are my parents?" asks Draco, gesturing for me to take a seat in the living room.

"I have not seen them," I reply, sitting down on the sofa. "Pudding has told Dobby that they are fine. They are continually in the company of their guards, but are being well cared for. Pudding asked Dobby to pass on a message to you that they appreciate the letters that you have sent and understand that they are written in a manner that will please their guards. Your mother sends her love. I suspect your father does, too. He would not say such a thing to a house-elf."

"No, he wouldn't," replies Draco with a wry smile. "Mother wouldn't hesitate, if it was the only way to tell me." He shakes his head. "I miss them terribly. If circumstances were different, I would have been home at the Manor this week."

"You understand why it is vital that you stay away?" I ask.

"I do," he replies, shaking his head sadly. "I needed to learn more skills in Occlumency and need to have those skills tested. I could be summoned by the Dark Lord any time and need to be able to keep him out of my head."

"You understand why I want to test your skills myself?"

"Professor Dumbledore tested me and was satisfied. If you feel that you need to test me yourself, I understand. If I crack, you're one of the first people the Dark Lord will kill."

"Exactly," I reply, in an amused tone. "Besides, I want to see if I can spot any sign of the Navajo form of Occlumency. Professor Dumbledore told me that in spite of a deep probe, he saw absolutely no indications that Occlumency was in use. I would still like to see for myself."

"Let's do it," says Draco, confidently. "I'm willing and then you can rest assured that everything you tell me about the Order or my parents will be hidden where the Dark Lord can't get to it."

"Very well," I nod. "My probe will be more subtle than what you have been subjected to by Professor Dumbledore. I will be looking carefully for inconsistencies in your memories, such as patterns that are broken. That is the kind of thing that can provide a clue that Occlumency is being used."

"I'm ready," says Draco, leaning towards me and opening his eyes wide.

"Legilimens."

I look deeply and images begin to appear. At first, they are shadows and murmurs. I adjust my vision and draw further on my magic. The images become solid and the voices clear. It is not quite like a Pensieve. I am not standing as a silent witness in the midst of someone else's memories. I am watching the memories as if they are a play on a stage and I am in the audience.

Draco, his hair streaming behind him, riding on his broom above the Quidditch pitch. He dips and loops back around the Ravenclaw Seeker. His arm is stretched out as far as he can reach, straining to catch the snitch. The fluttering wings are sharp enough to cut into his palm as his hand closes around it. Sitting in the Great Hall, complaining that the pot roast is tough. Gregory Goyle nods in agreement, his mouth too full of food to give a verbal answer. A little boy holding his mother's hand as they walk in the rose garden at the Manor. Narcissa explaining the proper way to introduce an older wizard to a younger one when the younger has a higher social ranking. Tapping his lower lip with the capped end of his biro as he listens to a lecture on the subject of string theory in quantum physics. Laying on the bed and laughing as Anita does an impromptu striptease, singing along with music coming from a device on a bureau in her bedroom. "Girls just wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls just wanna have fu-un." Laying beside her in the dark, gazing at her as she sleeps. Gently brushing back a strand of dark brown hair that has fallen across her face. Her nose twitches when the hair touches it. Draco, levitating the sofa in Hermione's apartment so she can straighten out the rug underneath. "Thanks, Draco," she says. "Won't it be great when we're moved in?" Lucius, offering Draco a glass of fire whisky to celebrate his nineteenth birthday.

I release the probe in Draco's mind.

We both lean back in our seats and rest. I think about what I have seen in Draco's head.

After a minute, Draco rises. He goes into the kitchen and brings back glasses of iced water for both of us.

"So, what do you think?" asks Draco.

I drink deeply of the iced water before I answer.

"I saw no broken memories," I begin. "There were no jumps to indicate that anything had been removed. I found no barriers, or any indication that memories were being spun out in my direction as a distraction from more important memories. Your mind and my journey through your mind were smooth. I saw no signs of Occlumency being used."

"Whew," says Draco, relieved. "Even though I've been tested by Professor Dumbledore and by Roger Littlehorse, I feel better. It's good to have more proof that I can handle a probe and not get caught."

"I am surprised by how smoothly I transitioned from one set of memories to another," I explain. "Rough transition between memories is common in Occlumency and one of the easiest clues to detect. Whatever technique you have been taught seems to completely eliminate transition issues."

"I wish I could explain the whole thing to you," says Draco, enthusiastically. "I had to give an oath that I wouldn't reveal anything about the Navajo methods."

"Obviously, a promise that must be kept," I reply. "Perhaps at a future time when the situation is less critical, I may persuade Professor Littlehorse to explain it to me."

"You've met Professor Littlehorse, haven't you?" asks Draco.

"I had a tour of the campus, last year. Professor Littlehorse and I met to discuss the Charms program," I reply.

"He's a great teacher," says Draco. "I've got another project that I'm working on with him."

Hearing a _pop_ in the corner where Draco has a small table for dining, I can see dishes appearing on the table.

"Why don't we move over to the table," says Draco. "Dorothy will send up our lunch and we can talk while we eat."

Taking our seats seems to be the signal for the delivery of our meal. In an instant, we each have bowls of minestrone soup. Bread sticks, scented with butter, garlic, and parmesan cheese are in a basket at the center of the table. An open bottle of Chianti accompanies this first course Draco fills our glasses and offers a toast.

"To overcoming adversity," he says, solemnly.

"Indeed," I reply, touching my glass to his. My first sip reveals that the Chianti is a few degrees below room temperature, just as a good Chianti Classico should be served. A Malfoy house-elf would be expected to know such things.

We enjoy our soup, which is full of fresh vegetables and barley and flavored with basil.

The edge taken off our hunger, we begin to talk.

"As the plan stands now," I explain, "We will gather our forces at a secret location. When I am summoned, I will Apparate to the Dark Lord's position, presumably at the Manor. You will have completed the obligatory fasting and solitary contemplation. We will complete the anointing and you will don the red supplicant's robe. I will escort you from the Manor to the location on the grounds where the initiation is to be held. That will most likely be on the hill to south. It is isolated and surrounded by woods. The property will be heavily warded. At dusk, the ceremonial bonfire will be lit. The Order's forces will have already Apparated to land adjacent to the Manor, outside of the wards. They will be hidden by visual camouflaging spells so they will blend in with the vegetation.

"One of the things we will need from you is how to drop the Malfoy family wards," I tell him.

"I can release most of the wards," says Draco, tapping on his glass to vanish the empty soup bowls. That signal results in the main course appearing on plates before us.

Our next course is a Pasticcio di Tortellini all'Emiliana covered with a rich Besciamella sauce with a touch of fresh nutmeg.

Draco looks at his plate, pleased.

"I asked Dorothy to make us her best Italian meal," he says, taking up his fork. "I didn't know she had such an expert way with Italian food."

My own taste of the portion before me reveals a complex dish, made by a capable chef. There is prosciutto and mortadello in the Besciamella and turkey and beef in the tortellini. The pasta is fresh and Parmesano Reggiano adds body and a nutlike flavor to the sauce.

"Your service elf is a talented cook," I reply.

We have a few moments of silence as we appreciate the fine meal before us.

"When we were so pleasantly interrupted," says Draco, refilling our wine glasses, "I was telling you that I don't know of all of the wards. There are some that are tied to my father and will pass to me upon his death."

"There is usually a way that the wife or heir of the head of the family can access those wards, if he is considered disabled," I explain. "I daresay being held prisoner in his home constitutes a form of disability that even magic can recognize. When you are home, you must ask your father to release those wards to you. If necessary, ask Pudding to ask him for the directions. We will have to arrange for enough of a distraction for the guards to give him the opportunity to pass control of the wards."

"When do you think I'll be called home?" asks Draco.

"You should expect a summons within the next week," I reply. "Under the circumstances, the Dark Lord will probably send me to get you. In your audience with him, you must not reveal that you know of his plan to possess your infant brother. The Dark Lord wants to reveal that to you only after your mother is pregnant."

"All those memories are tucked safely away," replies Draco, sneering at the thought. "Of course my dear brother would want to tell me himself. We're ever so close, after all."

I snort in response and take another bite.

"Assuming that all goes well and I can drop the wards. Is that when the Order will attack?" he asks.

"The Order will also have to drop the Dark Lord's wards," I reply. "Fortunately, we have some people within the Order who have that kind of expertise. Barring the Dark Lord using a human sacrifice to set the wards, we should be able to get through them."

"What if he decides to sacrifice a Muggle?" asks Draco.

"A Muggle would not do," I reply, taking another breadstick. "The Dark Lord would have to use a wizard and sacrifice his magic and life force to reinforce the wards. If he did that, the wards would be impenetrable to any means I know of. The Dark Lord will not find a volunteer to do this. An unwilling sacrifice is not as powerful as a willing sacrifice. There might be a way to bring down wards established through an unwilling sacrifice."

I lean back and tap my fingers on the table. I had not considered that the Dark Lord might use a human sacrifice to ward the Manor. By all reports, he did not do so the night he reincarnated himself in the cemetery when Pettigrew lopped off his own hand to throw into the stew pot. The Dark Lord did not have any excess followers to sacrifice then. He might have now. He might consider the night of June 21st to be important enough to sacrifice a lesser Death Eater, given his plans for the evening.

"We shall have to consider what to do in case the Dark Lord uses a human sacrifice for the wards," I say, pensively. "It would create serious problems for our plans."

"Assuming he doesn't use a human sacrifice," says Draco, "What happens next?"

"The Order goes on attack," I reply. "The flyers come in and start throwing hexes at Death Eaters on the ground. That will provide cover for the ground troops to make their approach towards the hill. Once the battle on the ground is engaged, the flyers will make their runs and pelt the Dark Lord with glass orbs containing the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"If I weren't the guest of honor for the initiation and stuck on the ground," says Draco, "I'd love to be one of the flyers. I'd aim right for the missing nose."

"You will still be quite busy on the ground," I assure him. "As soon as the ground forces are close enough, we are to throw off our Death Eater garb and join the fight."

"I'll be _naked _and oiled up under that red robe," sputters Draco. "I can't join the fight with my bits and bobbles swinging in the wind."

I cannot help but chuckle.

"The Picts used to tattoo themselves and go into battle naked," I offer, tongue firmly in cheek. "We could arrange for you to have some interesting battle decorations. There might even be a strategic advantage to that. You could distract the female Death Eaters."

"That's sick," moans Draco, staring down at his plate. "Just the thought of some of them is enough to put me off my food." He looks back up at me. "Will I be allowed to keep my wand during the ceremony? I'll have to practice doing a fast Transfiguration of the robes into something I can wear to keep decent."

"You will not have your wand during the ceremony," I reply. "I will have it and the sponsor is permitted to return it after the ceremony is over. I will hand it over to you at first opportunity."

"Good," says Draco, with a look of relief. "I'll practice the Transfiguration while I'm wearing robes. I'll bet I can turn the robes into something like a one-piece jumpsuit. That would work for fighting."

Draco takes a sip of his wine and pushes his hair back.

"Will you be carrying any of the Happy-Sleepy orbs on you? Would you be able to pass me a couple for the fight?" he asks.

"I will not be carrying any of the orbs," I reply. "I cannot take the chance of being searched and having them detected. There are no plans to have any of the ground troops carry them. The fighters on the ground will be concentrating on taking down the Death Eaters. The flyers will focus their attention on the Dark Lord."

"Potter's going to get a shot at him, isn't he?"

Draco is jealous.

"Potter is an excellent flyer," I reply. "It would be foolish not to take advantage of his skills."

Draco leans back and picks up his wine glass, swirling the contents.

"I'm going to find a way to fly," he mutters, determinedly.

I certainly do not want to discourage him.

"Keep your broom in a place where you can _Accio_ it and you may have your chance. There will be plenty of fighting to do whether in the air or on the ground."

"Is the weapon ready to use?" asks Draco.

"Not quite," I reply. "We are still having issues with the orb. We need it to hold the potion until it is smashed against the Dark Lord. After that, it must project a field to contain the smoke and mist of Happy-Sleepy so that it is concentrated about the Dark Lord and does not disperse too soon. Our most recent issue is that the timing charms that convert the potion into the proper smoke and mist forms are interfering with the charms that project the field. We seem to solve one problem and develop another."

"Have you tried charming the potion itself instead of the container?" asks Draco.

"We have tried charming the potion, charming the container, and having the person who throws the orb incant a timing charm upon throwing," I explain. "None of those have worked to the specifications we need. Even as we speak, a team is working on doing an Arithmantic analysis to look for ways to address the problem."

"I'd still like to know why you don't just kill him?" asks Draco, puzzled. "Why leave him alive?"

"The Dark Lord professes to be immortal," I reply. "He has done something to himself that allowed part of him to escape when he killed Potter's parents and threw an Avada Kedavra at the boy. We believe that the part of him that escaped then could escape now if we kill his body."

"Do you think you can keep his body alive indefinitely?" asks Draco.

"No," I reply. "It will buy us time to study him and develop a way to kill him and destroy that immortal core of his. Mr. Schuler has stated that he will put the resources of Avalon College into the effort. Between that and allies in the Department of Mysteries, I am hopeful that progress can be made. In the meantime, the Dark Lord will be kept in a Happy-Sleepy haze. His magic will be suppressed and he will no longer pose a threat."

"It's brilliant and devious," says Draco, with a serpentine smile. "Make him crave the very thing that destroys him."

"I intend to derive a good deal of satisfaction from that," I reply, amused. "He has kept all of us dancing to his tune for his own purposes. The day will come when he dances to ours. Believe me, it will be a slow, slow dance with no goodnight kiss at the end of it."

Both of us enjoy a laugh.

"There is something I have been wondering about that you may be able to help with," I ask.

"Anything, Severus," says Draco, sincerely.

"You have had more contact with Daniel Schuler than any of us. What does he have to gain by lending his resources to fighting the Dark Lord?" I ask.

"I've learned more about Mr. Schuler from Anita than I have directly from him," says Draco. "I would guess that there are several reasons why Mr. Schuler and their whole family would want the Dark Lord out of the picture. The most important reason is that he's a threat to Mr. Schuler's plans for the future."

I nod to encourage Draco to continue.

"You know that Mr. Schuler is a real genius when it comes to Arithmancy?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply. "That has been commented on by a few people."

"He uses Arithmancy to predict social and financial trends," says Draco. "Anita has said that's why he's been so successful in business. She says the talent runs in the family and every three or four generations, a new genius comes along. The Arithmancy genius provides guidance for the extended family. That's how they ended up coming to the United States. It allowed them to avoid the wars in Europe, especially the trouble with Grindelwald."

"That would be a useful talent," I comment.

"My best guess is that Mr. Schuler has run predictions for what would happen if the Dark Lord wins and doesn't like what he sees," says Draco. "It would damage his company and could hurt his family."

We have finished our entrées. Another tap of the spoon on Draco's wine glass and the plates vanish, along with the breadsticks. Small bowls appear before us, each with two scoops of ice cream. Catching a whiff, I inhale deeply.

"Almond gelato," I announce.

"It smells really good," says Draco, curious. He dips his spoon into the gelato and takes a small taste. His mouth works as he evaluates it. "This is delicious."

I take a larger spoonful. The creamy texture and the cold enhance the sweetness of the almond flavor.

"Ice cream for grown-ups," announces Draco. "Dorothy has to make this for the gang. Hermione's got a sweet tooth and Warren likes things that are supposed to be sophisticated."

"What does Anita like?" I inquire.

"Peppermint ice cream with dark chocolate chips in it," says Draco. "Practically every time we go by a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream shop, we stop so she can get two scoops in a waffle cone."

"I can see the appeal of that combination of cold mint and the richness of the dark chocolate," I reply.

"She likes the texture of the frozen bits of chocolate in the ice cream," says Draco, taking another dip of gelato. "They crunch."

"Hmm," I reply. "A nice contrast to the smoothness of the ice cream." As long as we are talking, I might as well take the opportunity. "How serious is your relationship with Anita Schuler?"

"Pretty serious," says Draco, with an infatuated smile. "She's really special. I've talked to Mother and Father about her. It bothers them that she has mixed blood and is an American. Of course, it doesn't hurt that her father is probably the richest wizard on the planet. Father would probably overlook it if she was a one-eyed hunchback, other than that he'd want me to get children elsewhere."

I very nearly spit my spoonful of gelato across the table.

"You have an interesting perspective on your parents' response to your lady friend's mixed heritage," I splutter around the napkin I am holding to my mouth.

"Maybe," sighs Draco. "I know that Father will probably pitch a fit about her lack of pure blood, but he'll get over it. He's good at adapting to new realities. Give him some intelligent grandchildren who can make their toys float across the room at the age of two and he'll be happy. Mother would fall in love with her grandchildren at first sight. I think she'd really like Anita, too. I'll just have to wear them down until they give in."

Draco is extraordinarily talented at that sort of thing. He has honed the skill to a fine art.

"If we all get out of this mess in one piece," he continues, "I plan to have Anita come to the Manor for a visit this summer. Then, I'll have a dinner here so that Mother and Father can meet Anita's parents. That will be followed by having her parents come out to the Manor late in the summer. I've got it all planned out."

"I am looking forward to meeting her," I point out. So far, I have not been mentioned in his plans."

"When she comes to the Manor," says Draco, "I want you to meet her. We'll have time and if Merlin is on our side, the Dark Lord will be in Azkaban."

"I fully support that idea," I reply with a nod. "Which brings us back to the official reason for my visit."

Draco taps his wine glass and the remains of our meal disappear from the table. We adjourn to the living room.

"You will need to recognize all of the questions you will be asked and memorize your responses," I begin. "I will rehearse them with you in the order the Dark Lord usually uses. He has been known to change the order of his remarks or stop in the middle of the ceremony to deliver a speech he feels inspired to give. You must be prepared for what cannot be predicted."

"That won't be a problem," says Draco. "Can I take notes?"

"You may," I reply. "Keep them in a warded drawer or box that will destroy the contents if anyone but you tries to access them."

"That would be the same drawer where I keep my paired journals," he replies, fetching a biro and notepad. Draco sits down and gives me his full attention.

"The ritual begins with the sponsor and supplicant being admitted into the circle," I explain. "We will stand outside of the circle. You will stand two paces behind me and at my left shoulder. The Dark Lord will begin the ceremony by asking '_Who comes before the circle of true believers?'_ I will give the ritual answer…"

-------------------------------

We have taken a break from practicing the questions and ritual responses. Draco has refilled our wine glasses. I am walking around the room, stretching as I go. I have delayed long enough and need to tell Draco the uncomfortable truth.

"Our plan is to begin the attack as early as possible during your initiation." I tell him. "We certainly do not want to get so far into the ritual that you give the promises to obey the Dark Lord. However, if something should prevent the Order from attacking during the ceremony, there is something you should know."

"Above and beyond the fact that I will have a special Dark Mark that will link me to the Dark Lord so that I will be hurt if he is hurt?" asks Draco, looking worried.

I stop pacing and sit down across from him. He picks up his wine and takes a reinforcing drink. I am tempted to ask for firewhisky, but refrain. Instead, I take a deep breath and launch into the explanation.

"There is another step in the initiation ceremony that I have not told you. Supplicants are never told about this, but I find that I cannot withhold the information and leave you unprepared, should it come to it."

"Will I have to kill a Muggle?" asks Draco, his voice terribly quiet.

"No." I reply, shaking my head. "The Dark Lord does not expect that during initiation. This has to do with activating the Dark Mark."

Draco looks like he just tasted something sour.

"Is there an activating potion that has blood or semen in it?"

"No. It is worse than that."

"Sweet Merlin," gasps Draco. "Surely he wouldn't expect…? Right there in front of the circle? All those Deatheaters?"

"He does expect," I say, grimacing. "Right there in front of all of those Death Eaters. He calls it the Mystical Union."

Draco looks utterly revolted. He stands up and starts to pace, agitated.

"So where do I get it?" he demands, "Down the throat or up the arse?"

"The latter."

"Well," he says with revulsion, "I suppose it would be considered rude for me to vomit all over the Dark Lord's cock, which is exactly what would happen if he expected me to give him a blow job."

I cannot help but wince.

"It is no comfort," I tell him, "But we have all been through it and survived."

Draco stops his pacing and stares at me.

"You and Father?"

"Yes."

Draco looks at me in horror as he realizes what this means.

"He is going to initiate my mother?" he demands.

I cannot bring myself to answer.

"I'LL KILL THAT SNAKEFACED BASTARD BEFORE I LET HIM FUCK MY MOTHER! I'LL RIP OUT HIS LIVER AND – and – and …"

Draco's rant stops. His pacing stops and he turns pale. He picks up his wine glass and hurls it at the wall. It shatters and pieces of glass and droplets of red wine spray across the wall and the floor.

The partially filled wine bottle follows next. It does not break, but leaves a dent in the wall and bounces as it hits the floor, leaving a trail of red wine on the floor.

Draco reaches for my glass and I grab his wrist and stop him.

"Destroying your glassware and damaging the wall or floor will not change anything."

"It might make me feel better," says Draco, with barely contained rage. "We have to DESTROY that animal before he can do that to my mother."

I rise and stand in front of him. I use the calmest voice I own.

"Look at me, Draco."

Draco raises his head and looks up at me. There is pain in his eyes of a kind and a degree that I have never seen there before. I put my hands on his shoulders.

"I swear by my mother's soul that I will do everything I can to put an end to the Dark Lord's magical power and to finish this before he can hurt you or your mother."

Draco's eyes are bright and he scrubs at his face. Before he can move away, I put my arms around him and pull him against me. Draco's shoulders shake and his head drops against my shoulder as his arms come around me. All I can do is hold him as tightly as I can.

I have not seen Draco cry since he was a boy at Hogwarts.

--------------------------

It has been an exhausting day and it is almost midnight when I return to Hogwarts. I am glad to have a chance to walk the long path through the grounds to the teachers' door so that I can clear my head.

Draco was calm when I left. He was expecting to see Anita after my departure. It is good that he will not be alone tonight.

I take no small amount of pride that Draco was less concerned about his own well-being than he was fearful for his mother. He knows that what the Dark Lord would do to both of them would be rape. If the Dark Lord succeeds in what he wants to do, he will have raped every member of their family.

This same monster claims to love them. Wants to be part of the family.

Draco is right. We have to destroy him.

I am going to my quarters and I am going to go to sleep. Tomorrow, I will take up the fight again. I will meet with Hermione in the evening and we will go over all of the data and look for what we have missed. We will figure out a way to make the Happy-Sleepy potion work. I will talk to Albus, Minerva, and Bill tomorrow and tell them that we need to determine what we will do if the Dark Lord uses a human sacrifice to set the wards.

Making my way through the dungeons, I utter the password that will allow me into my quarters.

It feels good to take off my layers of armor and slip into my oldest soft gray nightshirt. After spending the day in dragonhide boots, it feels equally good to slide my bare feet into my well-worn slippers.

I want neither tea nor fire whisky. I stop at the fireplace and firecall the kitchen. In the wink of an eye, I have a large mug of hot chocolate with a swirl of whipped cream with little sprinkles of dark chocolate floating on the top. I sit down in my favorite chair in front of the fireplace.

Aaah. That is good. The Hogwarts house-elves make hot chocolate that is the best to be found anywhere.

I stretch out my long legs and close my eyes. It has been an eventful day. A job offer from Gerhardt that could make it possible to marry Hermione sooner than I had hoped. Professor Franks and Madam Long analyzed my Dark Mark and have expressed their belief that it can be neutralized. A long talk with Hermione about children and our future. Meeting with Draco to talk about the Order's plans for June 21st and dealing with his distress about what the Dark Lord wants to do to him and his mother. Reason to fear that Riddle might decide to sacrifice one of his Death Eaters to secure the wards that night and make our plans useless.

Good things that make me optimistic for the future. Horrible possibilities that leave me depressed.

Perhaps I shall focus on the here and now. I am comfortable and have hot chocolate.

I wonder if Hermione has written in our paired journals?

That is sufficient motivation to convince me to move.

Opening the warded drawer, I see a glow on the cover of the journal.

Sitting back down in my favorite chair, I take another sip of the hot chocolate. I slurp up all of the whipped cream on top. Anita is correct. The texture of bits of dark chocolate against the softness of cream is a sensual experience.

Perhaps Hermione has written me one of her sensual notes. Her cycle should be finished in a few days. I must figure out a way…

I open the journal and begin to read.

-------------------------

_Dear Severus,_

_I hope that everything went well during your meeting with Draco. He was terribly anxious to get to see you and talk about the Order's plans. Besides, you are family to him and I'm certain that being with you felt reassuring._

_You made me happy today. It was lovely spending time with you in our loveseat, just talking. Letting me know and understand you better. Making plans for the future. It meant the world to me._

_I have some troubling news. You know that I received a letter from Kendra Smith, the solicitor who is handling my parents' estate. When Harry and Ron arrived at headquarters, I asked them to go to my parents' house and take some cuttings from my father's lilac bush before it gets landscaped out of existence. They agreed and Apparated to a nearby park and then walked to the house. When they reached the house, Harry had a feeling something wasn't right. They went to the alley behind the house where they couldn't easily be seen and tested for wards. They found that the house is warded in such a way that a wizard stepping onto the property will trigger the wards._

_Since I didn't ward it or authorize warding, we suspect that the wards may be of the sort you warned me about. They could have been set by a Death Eater to be triggered by my presence. None of the Death Eaters could know that I haven't set foot on the property since November 1__st__, 1997 and have no intent to ever return. _

_Harry and Ron say that they couldn't tell how long the wards have been there. Jean and Remus plan to go there tomorrow and assess them further. _

_There is one other thing that Harry and Ron found out about the house. While they were coming out of the alley, one of the children in the neighborhood asked them if they had been looking at the haunted house. Apparently, my parents' home has developed a reputation in the neighborhood for being haunted. The child said that the ghosts of my parents haunt it. _

_It isn't terribly unusual for people to start stories about a house being haunted when there are tragic deaths in the house. Of course, the neighbors don't know that Mum and Dad were murdered. The official cause of death was carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty furnace._

_Oh, Severus. What if it is true? What if Mum and Dad aren't at peace because of how they died and are haunting the house? When I was sick after the Cruciatus potion exploded on me, you said that I talked to them as if they were there. What if they were there because they are ghosts? I can't bear to think of it. They don't deserve to end up as ghosts. It breaks my heart to think that is even a possibility._

_It was all I could do not to go to the house. _

_I didn't go. I promise, I won't go. I won't go to the cemetery and I won't go to the house._

_I know I'd be walking right into a trap and would be handed over to the Dark Lord. That certainly wouldn't help my parents' situation, if they are ghosts._

_There's going to be a meeting tomorrow evening to talk about this. Albus will talk to you in the morning. _

_I've spoken to Ellen. I gave her a letter that she can pass onto Kendra giving her permission to discuss what she knows about my parents' house. Ellen is going to see her tomorrow and will warn her to keep away from the house. _

_I wish I were with you now._

_Love,  
__Hermione_

---------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

I can virtually guarantee that your neighbors' feeling that your house is haunted is a result of the warding. It is a common technique used by Death Eaters. The wards are set to generate a fear of ghosts and deter Muggles.

If Muggles are afraid of ghosts and believe that the house is haunted, no one will buy it. The Death Eater who set those wards must believe that you will eventually come to the house, if it remains unsold.

Under no circumstances should you go anywhere near the house. If you feel even the slightest temptation, stay at the Burrow tomorrow.

This whole situation reeks of a trap.

When you were injured and your parents came to comfort you and watch over you, they were spirits, not ghosts. You could see and hear them, but none of the rest of us could. If they were ghosts, one of us would have seen or heard them.

Keep faith that your parents are at peace. The nightmares you had before they visited you have ceased. That would not be the case if your parents were troubled.

I will be at the meeting tomorrow evening and we will determine what to do. Be patient and trust me.

Yours,  
Severus

-----------------------------  
Author's notes

Thank you to all my reviewers: Angie S, Lady Slone, Droxy, Trulyamused, T wrecks, Darkangel102860, Oscarxena, Darque Hart, Excessivelyperky, Sunsethill, Laurenke1, Machshefa, Dverducci, Yapyap, Wynnleaf, MollysSister, MamaJMarie, CharmedForce, Lyndie578, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Murgy31, Arime Setta, Klschmidt, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Maddie50, Salma Snape, MysticSong1978, Kirien, Pickles87, Squeaker19450, Dancingkatz, Notwritten, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Kristine Thorne, o0morgana0o, Duj, Jade2099, MoreThanSirius, Keske, Valerie, Koliber, Puella Deorum, Ebbe04, Latinachikita, Andi-Scribbles, Quiet-mg, Bethanstein, GiggleGinny, Princessfiona, Mela, Wati, Asha, AshenV, Seth7, Ecchansama, Rinny08, AnonymousAuthor, Dbw2f, and Morrigan.


	92. Chapter 92

I sure spend a lot of time on this for something I don't own.

You guys really need to thank Julia for fixing this chapter. She found a lot of things that needed explaining, correcting, or deleting.

------------------------------  
May 31st, 1999  
Severus

---------------------  
Paired Journal Communication  
Hermione to Severus

_Dear Severus,_

_I was so upset, I didn't think of that. Wizards can see Muggle ghosts much more easily than other Muggles can. Anita told me about a ghost who haunts her neighborhood. Frank Lloyd Wright, the American architect, had a Muggle mistress who was murdered along with her children. The Schulers live in the neighborhood where Wright lived. The mistress haunts the neighborhood and Anita and her mother have both seen her._

_I haven't discussed with anyone what you told me about my seeing and talking to my parents when I was ill. If no one else saw or heard them, except for me, they must be spirits, not ghosts._

_That makes sense. I am so relieved. It's a Death Eater plot, after all. I never thought I'd be relieved to say that. _

_I'll see you this evening. _

_Love,  
__Hermione_

-----------------------

Minerva offers me the plate of pastries. I select an apple Danish and enjoy the buttery flavor of the sweet roll and the cinnamon in the apple filling. The scent of Earl Grey tea wafts through the room, dissipating in the gentle breeze coming through the open window in Albus' office.

These before breakfast meetings in Albus' office are becoming a regular occurrence. After the rich food I ate yesterday and this continual diet of pastries, my waist is going to start showing the effects. I have no desire to develop love handles.

I wonder what Hermione would think of love handles?

My metabolism is fast and it is difficult for me to gain weight. I think it is unlikely that I would develop love handles. I am only forty. I will not achieve proper middle age until I am at least sixty. As I grow older and my metabolism slows down, I might become a bit thicker about the waist.

What would Hermione think if I became thicker about the waist?

What would I think if Hermione became thickerabout the waist? Women do tend to gain weight as they approach middle age.

Right now, Hermione has a tidy waist and perky breasts. When she is fifty or sixty, that may change, especially if we have the two children she has in mind.

Her breasts would be considered average, neither large nor small. What would they look like if they drooped? Or she developed a belly from having babies? Stretch marks? There are potions for stretch marks.

Would I mind?

The changes would be gradual. I wonder if I would really notice?

She loves me in spite of my scars, the lines on my face, and my skinny frame.

Would I love her if she were plump?

Maybe these are reasons for a couple to grow old together. The changes occur over time. I love her now and cannot imagine loving her less because her breasts started to droop or she became plump or her hair turned gray. If anything, the shared experiences of twenty years would make me love her more.

Maybe she will not notice when my waist is not so trim and white strands appear in my hair.

The point is that wherever we are going, we will get there together. The other things should not matter.

I have finished my Danish pastry and refrain from licking my fingers, as I would like to do. My napkin must serve, instead.

"Remus and I will visit the Grangers' house and take a look at the wards when we are done here," says Jean.

It appears that Order business has been discussed while I have been off communing with the fairies.

"I do not believe you will find anything unusual about the wards," I comment. "From Potter's and Weasley's descriptions, they sound like the standard wards Death Eaters use. You should find a warding charm that admits all, but will send a signal when triggered by the presence of a magical person. The ward can be refined to the point where it will only be triggered by a specific person. To accomplish that requires a hair, nail clipping, or something containing the person's DNA."

"It doesn't seem likely that a Death Eater would have gained access to Hermione's hair or nail clippings," observes Remus.

"Certainly not," agrees Minerva. "We have taught our students to destroy such things so that no one can use them without permission."

"Hermione would be scrupulous about those matters," says Albus, helping himself to a second Danish pastry. It appears to have a prune topping with frosting drizzled over it. Albus is buttering it liberally. I have never seen anyone put butter on a Danish pastry before.

Albus is over 150 years old and eats sweets like a Honeydukes quality control inspector. His metabolism must be fast, too. Otherwise, he would have gained a considerable amount of weight, given his dietary habits.

"Do you have any suggestions as to which of the ghost fright wards is most likely to have been used?" asks Remus.

I suppose I should pay attention.

"_Furchterregende Geister_," I reply. "The Death Eaters generally prefer the German forms."

"Good choice," replies Jean, agreeably. "The German wards project particularly terrifying images."

"Grindelwalds' associates were able to cast it so well," mumbles Albus around his prune Danish, "They could send Muggles screaming down the road."

"This information will be helpful," says Remus. "It will save us a lot of time in identifying the wards."

"There is another issue we should start to consider," I reply. "It has occurred to me that the Dark Lord may choose to ward Malfoy Manor with a human sacrifice on June 21st."

Albus stops chewing his Danish pastry.

Jean mutters something under her breath that I cannot hear.

Minerva fumbles with her delicate china teacup and it clinks loudly as it hits the saucer.

Remus runs both hands through his hair and says "Holy shit."

"Well said," I remark.

"All of our plans will be for naught," says Minerva, despairing. "We will not be able to penetrate the wards. Riddle's new body will be conceived and he will keep Madam Malfoy behind those wards. We will be unable to stop him. Even if we are willing to kill Narcissa Malfoy to prevent the birth from happening, we will not be able to come anywhere near her until after the child is born and possessed by the Dark Lord."

Jean looks at Albus, who is placing what is left of the prune Danish pastry back on his plate. It appears he has lost his appetite.

"I am unaware of any means of breaking a ward set with a human sacrifice without using another human sacrifice to deactivate it," says Albus, looking grim.

"That is hardly an option," says Jean. "We can't descend to their level."

"What if it is a willing sacrifice?" asks Remus, reluctantly. "We shouldn't discount the possibility that there might be someone prepared to volunteer. After all, we are talking about taking down the Dark Lord. There is scarcely a family among us that hasn't lost someone to the war."

Jean is struggling for words.

"Okay," she says, tucking her hair behind her ears. She does not quite look at any of us straight on. "It doesn't hurt anything or compromise anything to at least talk about it." She raises her head and looks to Albus. "Is there anyone in the Order or close to the Order who has a fatal disease? Who would be willing to commit suicide in order to bring down the wards?"

"Collette Bower," murmurs Minerva, looking down at her teacup. "She lost her first husband and oldest daughter during the first war."

"She will not do," says Albus, shaking his head. "Her condition is terminal, but she is far gone in dementia. She could not possibly give informed consent."

"What about Walter Selkirk?" suggests Minerva, reluctantly. "He has incurable damage to his lungs from excessive exposure to dragon fire. He has only a few months left. He might consider it an opportunity to have an honorable and meaningful death in battle, instead of gasping out his end, totally bedridden."

"After a life as a dragon wrangler," I offer, "He may very well prefer this."

"Let's not do this right now," says Remus, shaking his head. "I know it may come down to it, but let's see if we can find an alternative. There might be something out there that we don't know about."

"I think we can assume that European wizardry has nothing to offer that we do not already know," I state, grasping the opportunity to quit discussing whom we might sacrifice. "We should not assume that no other culture has dealt with this successfully."

"There is a lot of Aztec and Mayan magic that we know nothing about," says Jean, nodding.

"Or magical forms from the Orient," comments Albus, sounding relieved. "We should not forget our American allies. They may know something that might help."

"We should bring in Limnoreia Lovegood," I suggest. "Her expertise with wards may be invaluable."

"Excellent suggestion," declares Albus, sounding more optimistic. "I should have thought of it. I will speak to her this morning about attending the meeting tonight."

"The meeting will have to be held at headquarters," Minerva reminds him. "Limnoreia will not come to Hogwarts as long as Sybil is there."

I hide my snicker behind my hand.

"Is there a story here that I haven't heard?" asks Remus, looking puzzled.

"After all this time," interrupts Jean, "She still hasn't found anyone who can remove the rest of that hex?"

"The problem is the interaction between the two hexes and the charm," sighs Albus. "She still attracts toads, too."

I cough quite forcefully to hide my laugh. Minerva glares at me.

"That is not funny, Severus Snape," she lectures.

I clear my throat in an effort to contain myself.

"Actually," says Jean, "It is funny. Except that I don't know how she feels about it after ten years of avoiding Trelawney and being pursued by toads."

I cannot restrain myself any longer.

"At least she was not here during Umbridge's tenure," I comment as dryly as I can manage.

"Goodness, that would have been dreadful," says a wide-eyed Minerva. "She would have had Dolores the Toad after her, too."

Remus looks mystified as the rest of us have a good laugh.

It is just as well that we have relieved the tension for a moment, since I have more information to share.

"I was summoned by the Dark Lord the other evening," I disclose. "There was nothing that happened requiring a response by us at this time. However, you should be aware that the Dark Lord is making plans for when he takes on his new identity as a member of the Malfoy family."

"What does he have in mind for Babymort?" asks Jean.

"It was not that so much as his plans for the abandoned shell of his current body," I reply. "He wants a battle staged between the Order and selected Death Eaters. I am to research ways to reanimate the body so that it can be made to appear that Potter kills the Dark Lord, including what would appear to be the immortal core contained in it."

"That is a clever idea," remarks Minerva. "The wizarding world is to be lulled into a false sense of security for the seventeen years the Dark Lord would need to attain his majority."

"You said _selected Death Eaters_ would participate in this battle?" comments Albus.

"The Dark Lord has decided to cull the herd," I explain. "He has determined that there are some Death Eaters who present a liability to his future plans. He intends to give me a list of those to be killed by one means or another. The first person he listed was Bellatrix."

"He's going to sacrifice his most faithful follower?" asks Remus, surprised.

"His most fanatical follower," I clarify. "He mentioned her insanity as the reason. She is an especially interesting choice, given that he promised her a new body and immortality once he has demonstrated that his method works."

"The Dark Lord is a pragmatist of the first water," says Albus. "He is correct in his assessment of Bellatrix Lestrange as a future liability. Between her mental instability, criminal history, and connection to Narcissa Black Malfoy, she poses a huge problem. May I speculate that Rudolphus and Rastaban are also on the list?"

"You speculate correctly," I reply, with an appreciative nod. "He mentioned a few that he intends to save. Rutherford is not known as a Death Eater by the general public. Pettigrew may have to go into hiding. He also intends to arrange for Ima LeDrox to be cleared of all charges."

"How does he intend to do that?" asks Jean in a deceptively calm tone. "There are witnesses who have testified to her participation in the McKinnon murders."

After all these years, Jean has perfected portraying the image of calm when the murder of her family is discussed. I know full well that her rage is as fresh today as it was the day it happened.

"LeDrox spoke to me briefly after my meeting with the Dark Lord," I reply. "She says that there will be a claim that a Polyjuiced impersonator committed the crimes. I do not know any details beyond that."

"The Polyjuiced impersonator alibi is as common as the classic _I was Imperiused_ plea," snorts Jean.

"We shouldn't underestimate LeDrox," says Remus to Jean. "She has managed to live in disguise in Europe ever since the Dark Lord's fall. She might be vile, but everything indicates that she is smart, resourceful, and has a stash of money somewhere."

"Agreed," I reply. "She said that the Dark Lord was helping her. I suspect that their true culprit will be revealed as someone who has since died and left diaries or other evidence behind."

"There are methods that can reveal when evidence has been manufactured," says Jean, her anger beginning to slip through.

"I know how frustrating this must be for you," says Minerva, sympathetically. "I lost Gaius early in the first war and it is still painful to think that I have never had justice for him. My guess is that LeDrox has already used Imperius on a likely candidate. When that person commits suicide, he or she will be found with a Dark Mark and a suicide note or diary confessing all."

"We must never underestimate her," offers Albus, stroking his beard. "Even among her fellow Ravenclaws, she was held in high esteem for her logical mind and scholarship. She achieved the position Head Girl and made an exemplary job of it."

"As did Tom Riddle in his time as Head Boy," interjects Minerva. "And Lucius Malfoy in his. The leadership skills learned in that position have been put to ill use."

"Ill use doesn't even begin to cover it," says Jean angrily, pushing herself out of her chair and pacing across the room. "A few years after that she was the Dark Lord's favorite assassin. Add a few more years and she personally executed my parents and my two brothers, along with an assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was a busy night for her when the Dark Lord decided to wipe out the McKinnon family all in one fell swoop."

Jean turns away from us and begins wiping the wetness off her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Why is it that the women in my life never carry handkerchiefs? I search the inside pocket of my teaching robe and draw out one of mine. I cross the room and hold it out to her. She sniffles and snatches it from my hand.

"Talk among yourselves," she mutters, making it a command. Jean waves me away while she composes herself.

The rest of us put together a list of topics to cover at the Order meeting this evening and Jean returns to her seat.

"This is personal," she announces angrily. "On June 21st, I want a piece of that bitch."

Which is a very good reason why Jean should not take on LeDrox. I do not doubt that Jean has the power and skill to duel her. In this one case, Jean's emotions could get in the way of winning. We shall have a talk about that later.

"Understandable," says Minerva, "For the same reason that I would like to have a piece of Rabastan Lestrange."

The two women offer each other conspiratorial nods.

"Ahem." I intrude on this moment between them. "While you two plot revenge, there is another issue I wish to bring up regarding Ima LeDrox."

"Which would be?" asks Remus.

"She has decided that we would make a lovely couple, once we do away with Minerva."

There are times when wording things bluntly is so very satisfying.

Jean looks outraged.  
Albus looks amused.  
Remus looks startled.  
Minerva is sniggering behind her hand.

"I do so enjoy being your mistress," declares Minerva, in her most seductive tone as she bats her eyes at me.

Jean has escalated to furious.  
Albus is squinting and trying very hard not to laugh.  
Remus looks like he just got the joke.  
Minerva is grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Before Jean starts throwing hexes because of the apparent lack of faithfulness in your relationship with Miss Granger," says Albus, hiccupping from trying to hold back laughter, "You really should tell her the rest of the story."

"In January," I begin, "The Dark Lord ordered me to seduce Minerva…"

--------------------------  
Late afternoon

The door to the cellar is ajar and I can hear Hermione and Jean talking as I approach the stairs.

"You should have seen it when Mike came to live with me at Hogwarts," says Jean. "He did a complete safety assessment of each of the classes and the castle. Albus was cooperative at first, which is why the handrails were installed on every stairway. Can you believe that there were two of the moving stairways that relied on nothing more than magic to keep the students from falling off?"

"I can't believe that the Founders were so careless," says Hermione, sounding surprised.

"Mike determined that at one time," continues Jean, "That set of stairs was designed to detect which students were Muggleborns. The stairs moved faster if there was a Muggleborn on them. I guess Slytherin figured if the student didn't have enough magic to keep himself on the stairs, he deserved to fall a few stories."

I do believe that is enough disparaging remarks about my sexual role model.

I open the door the rest of the way and proceed down into the lab. Hermione walks over to the bottom of the stairs to greet me. Instead of the loving welcome I anticipated, she stands with her hands on her hips and glares at me.

"Did Salazar Slytherin really do that?" she asks, accusingly.

"Did Salazar Slytherin really do what?" I ask, innocently.

Jean snorts.

"Okay," says Hermione, trying to look crafty which never works well with a Gryffindor. "Let's pretend that you didn't hear anything about what Jean and I were discussing."

I open my mouth to offer plausible denial and have no opportunity to respond as Hermione ignores it and continues.

"Jean says that her husband is a safety consultant who did a complete evaluation of the castle when they lived here."

"He did," I reply. "It was very useful. He made suggestions for practices in the Potions classroom that I follow to this day." Preferring to deflect further discussion about Salazar Slytherin, I turn to Jean.

"I believe that the singularly most popular change Mike recommended was requiring that Albus tie up his beard," I reply, smirking.

Hermione is standing there looking quite taken back. Jean starts to laugh and Hermione looks at her, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Your husband is responsible for that string the Headmaster wears around his beard?" she asks, astonished.

"Albus was furious when Mike put that in his report," says Jean, still chuckling.

"All of us staff were cheering quietly in the background," I add. "You have no idea what it was like for us, sitting at the head table."

"Albus was constantly dragging his beard through the food as it was being passed," says Jean with a shudder. "You'd find hairs…"

"Urgh," declares Hermione, disgusted.

"My sentiments, exactly," I reply, nodding in agreement. "Or he was picking food out of his beard."

"Ick," adds Hermione.

"There are some things children just shouldn't be exposed to," says Jean, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Adults should not have to watch it either," I comment.

Hermione looks puzzled.

"Why didn't he wear it the first two years I was at Hogwarts?" she asks.

"After a few years of complying with the restriction," I explain, "Albus tried a new beard conditioner. It made his beard whiter and softer, at least according to Poppy." I do not want anyone to think I have been admiring or fondling Albus' beard. "He claimed that it was less prone to breakage and would be less likely to shed hair. He filed a grievance about being required to tie his beard.

"It took years for the grievance to be processed through the Board of Governors. He was allowed to untie his beard during that time. His beard may have been softer and whiter, but it still trailed through the food being passed at the head table," I complain. "That was one of the arguments used by Lucius Malfoy, along with students being petrified, that got Albus terminated from his position as Headmaster during the basilisk debacle.

"When he returned, Albus decided not to give the Board of Governors an excuse to discipline him. He has kept his beard tied ever since."

"Much to the relief of all, I imagine," comments Jean.

"Whenever the subject comes up, we all commiserate with Albus about the unfairness of the whole business," I assure Jean. "In truth, we are all very pleased with the Board of Governors for getting the beard under control."

Hermione looks amused by the story.

"I had no idea that the Headmaster's beard has been such a subject of controversy," she says.

"Since the 1950's, if you ask Minerva," says Jean, teasing. "You don't want to, though. She can go on for hours."

Which brings us back to the project at hand. I see Jean has been working at the computer. Hermione has a six foot roll of parchment stretched out on the laboratory table. It is covered with numbers, sigils, runes, and assorted symbols of Arithmancy. I see a blank area that seems to be waiting to be filled in.

"Have you made any progress today?" I ask.

"Some," replies Hermione. "The charm that releases the field from the orb to contain the Happy-Sleepy and holds it in place for 90 seconds is interacting with the charms that cause the cocaine smoke and fire bladder extract mist to form three seconds apart."

"We've just finished the calculations using Morimoto's Third Temporal Principal," says Jean, waving towards the computer. "Once Hermione has plugged those into the handwritten formula, we'll run the magic. We're hoping it will tell us if we can compensate by using Hubertus' Finagling Factor or if we will have to break it down further. Once we figure that out, we're going to move onto refining the formula for dissipating the field and banishing the smoke and mist so it doesn't get released into the air."

"I'll need about ten minutes to write those in," says Hermione. "Do we have enough time to finish before the meeting?"

"I believe so," I reply. "Some of the key Order members have not arrived."

"Good," replies Hermione. "I'll get back to this, then."

She picks up a quill, dips it into the inkwell and begins to write.

Jean is sitting over at the computer, so I use the opportunity to get a lesson about how to use the Arithmancy spreadsheet. I do not know how she has caught onto this so quickly. Just finding the right key on the keyboard takes me seconds of visual scanning to locate. We are barely into it when the scratching sound stops.

"It's ready," announces Hermione. "You can double check it before I run the magic."

We stop the computer lesson and join Hermione at the table. The long roll of parchment is covered with Hermione's precise script. I check the first half, which is correctly written. That is no less than I would expect of her.

Jean mumbles to herself as reads the writing on the last half of the six foot long equation. Jean nods to Hermione. "This looks good. Go ahead."

We all stand back as Hermione takes out her wand and recites the incantation to activate the formula. The symbols on the parchment reconfigure themselves in a whirl of moving ink and light. As soon as the writing settles into a recognizable form and the light fades, we move forwards to take a look.

Hermione's finger travels the length of the formula until it reaches the significant portion. She stops halfway through the section and we all lean forward to see the result. There is a null value in the equation that indicates insufficient information to solve the problem.

"Crap," announces Hermione, sounding exceedingly frustrated.

"Crap, indeed," confirms Jean, equally frustrated.

"Look on the bright side. At least one more possibility has been eliminated," I offer. I can see their disappointment in the face of the urgency of our mission.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Severus Snape would be the one encouraging me to look on the bright side," Jean complains wrly. "I rely on you to be the most cynical bastard in the known universe. You're shaking up my world view."

"If it will make you feel better," I reply with a smirk, "I lied."

Hermione laughs and shakes her head.

"That one took us all afternoon," sighs Hermione. "You're right about looking on the bright side. At least we have the computer. We couldn't have run the simulations without it. Those saved us a lot of time by narrowing down the principles that apply."

"If there's enough time after the meeting," says Jean, "We'll start on the calculations for Morimoto's Fifth Temporal Principle."

"He has thirty-seven temporal principles," Hermione groans, pushing her hair back in frustration. "Fourteen of them are potentially relevant to our problem. By the time we solve the problem, we won't have enough time for production of the orbs. We can't make any of the ingredients until we are certain the whole process will work and the potions are compatible with the charms in the orbs."

"That's a good reason to take a break," declares Jean. "We'll need to do a little research before we decide whether to try principle seven or thirteen next. Besides, I'm hungry. I don't do my best thinking on an empty stomach."

"Even if supper isn't ready," offers Hermione, "We can always coax some tea and a few biscuits out of Dobby. A break would do wonders for my mental health. I'm ready to think about something else for a while."

"I want to know what was learned about the wards at your parents' house," I remark.

-----------------------------------

My curiosity about the wards at Hermione's parents' home is still unsatisfied. We reached the kitchen in time to see several Order members arrive. Dobby was bustling about in his kitchen. Interlopers were handed plates filled with Italian beef sandwiches that were made from Hermione's recipe and chips in a shape she refers to as waffle fries. We were then shooed on our way so that we could enjoy our comestibles and leave the house-elf in peace.

I pulled up a dining room chair in order to leave the sofa for the two ladies. Much to my pleased surprise, that resulted in Hermione and Jean summoning chairs so they could sit on either side of me.

Bill and Arthur arrived shortly after Chester Sommersby. Moody is sitting on one of the dining room chairs, eating a sandwich that he brought with him and staring suspiciously at the rest of us. Ellen's smiling face, followed by the rest of her, has just come in the door. She pulls up another of the dining room chairs so she can sit beside Hermione.

At the age of forty, I am finally sitting at the equivalent of the cool kids' table.

"I'm here during my dinner break," says Ellen, settling her plate of food on her lap. "I can't stay long."

Before we can begin a quiet discussion of what has been learned about the wards, Albus arrives with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Limnoreia Lovegood in tow. They present quite a contrast in appearance. Albus is dressed in lime green robes embroidered with orange flowers. He has a matching orange tie around his beard, apparently not having considered that the stricture against loose beards does not apply away from Hogwarts.

Perhaps he really likes the orange string.

Shacklebolt is looking particularly vivid today, wearing yellow robes trimmed in blue and a matching fez.

Limnoreia positively fades into the background by comparison. She has always been inclined to be quiet and unassuming. She wears robes in a soft brown, almost the same color as her hair and eyes. I wonder if that is intentional? Her specialty is warding and most wards are intended to go unnoticed until they are triggered. Maybe she prefers not to stand out in a crowd.

Remus joins the group, sitting down in his rocking chair. Potter and young Weasley sit on the floor on either side of the werewolf.

"I called this meeting to discuss recent events," announces Albus. "Before we begin, I we have someone present whom some of you have not met before." Albus extends his hand and Limnoreia rises.

"I am Limnoreia Lovegood," she says, "The owner and operator of Lovegood and Associates. We do custom warding and ward analysis anywhere in the world." She smiles and nods to Jean. "Like a number of the Order members who are participating in this meeting, I also taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. I was pleased to learn from Albus that the curse on the position has finally been broken." She grins at Bill and gives him a bow. "I wish you a long and happy tenure in the position all of us would have liked to keep."

"Thank you," replies Bill, rising to offer a chivalrous bow in return.

A moment is taken to introduce Limnoreia to Potter and Hermione, who have not met her. I take the opportunity to whisper to Jean.

"Would you have stayed on past the one year if the curse had not got you?"

Jean nods, sadly. "I had fun that year. Teaching the dunderheads was more enjoyable than I ever anticipated. It was a blast having free run of the castle and the Restricted Section."

"And turning Albus' robes black," I add.

"Especially turning Albus' robes black," she replies, emphatically.

Hermione returns from her introduction to Limnoreia and takes her seat next to me. We exchange glances and I find myself wishing we were alone so I could put my arm around her. We have not had time in our loveseat today.

Limnoreia sits down and Albus begins again.

"The first purpose of this meeting is to discuss what has been learned about the warding found at the Granger home. I call upon Harry and Ronald to tell the group about what they found there, yesterday."

Interestingly, it is Weasley who stands up to speak.

"Yesterday afternoon, Harry and I went to Hermione's parents' home with the intent of taking a cutting from a lilac bush that she's rather sentimental about. We Apparated to a park located a few streets from the house. Before we stepped onto the property, Harry said that he was getting an odd feeling from the house. We went to the alley behind the house and did some testing. We found wards around the house. Our brief analysis showed that one ward was set to be triggered by the presence of a magical person. The other was a Muggle repulsion ward."

Potter takes up the explanation from his spot on the floor.

"There were children playing in the area and we couldn't do any further analysis without risking being detected. We didn't want to take the chance of casting any Notice Me Not spells for fear of setting off the wards."

"So we decided to leave," picks up Weasley. "As we came out of the alley, one of the children came up to us and asked if we had been looking at the haunted house."

Hermione is looking at Potter and Weasley, sadness etched into the lines of her face. The two of them look back at her, the sadness of their expressions matching hers.

"The kid told us that two people died in the house the year before last and that they haunted it," finishes Weasley.

"We came back here and told Hermione, Remus, and Jean what we found," says Potter.

"And we said that we would go today and investigate further," adds Remus.

"Before we get into that," says Ellen, "I have to leave shortly, so if I can give my report now?"

The floor is yielded to Ellen.

"My daughter, Kendra, is handling Hermione's legal affairs," reports Ellen. "Since she has been dealing with the house, Hermione asked me if I could talk to her and find out what she might know about the warding. That way if anyone in the law offices where she works is a Death Eater or a sympathizer, it would not get back to the Dark Lord. There was NO implication that Kendra was involved with this," says Ellen pointedly as she gives Moody a nasty look.

"Harrumph," he replies, scowling back.

"Anyway," she continues, "We met today for lunch as we have done on a few previous occasions. A mother and daughter having lunch together would not attract suspicion. I gave her the note signed by Hermione giving us permission to discuss her legal affairs. Kendra disclosed that they were having a hard time selling the house. Initially, they believed it was because of the deaths in the house due to the supposedly faulty boiler. The boiler was replaced and it still didn't sell. Then they decided that it must be because the interior decorating didn't match up with current Muggle fashion. Hermione approved doing the necessary renovations.

"The law office uses an estate agency owned by a Squib. He hires other Squibs and Muggles as contractors," continues Ellen. "Kendra has been in charge of Hermione's case for only two weeks. She didn't know about the house's reputation for being haunted until she had a meeting with the estate agent. He told her that the rumors started shortly after the boiler was replaced. He was concerned about it, so he took his sister to the house. She is a witch and she said that she didn't see or hear anything that made her think that the house was really haunted. They wrote it off as children making up stories about a house where a tragedy took place."

"So, Kendra doesn't think the house is actually haunted?" asks Hermione.

"No," says Ellen, looking at Hermione reassuringly. "She doesn't think the house is haunted, but the situation with the house has changed in the last month. Almost all of the interior remodeling was done except for some of the finishing touches. The Muggle employees started complaining that they were certain the house was haunted. They claimed that they were seeing moving shadows out of the corners of their eyes."

"The wards must have been added at that time," speculates Remus. "Jean and I were there today and analyzed the wards."

"We found _Furchterregende Geister_," says Jean. "Severus suggested that it was the most likely Muggle repellent ward of the type that he knows are used by Death Eaters."

"It must have only been put up about a month ago," offers Ellen. "It coincides with what Kendra said."

"Less time even than that," says Remus. "I would guess that the wards have been up about three weeks."

"There is more than that," adds Jean. "We found that the wards were set to trigger an alarm if a wizard stepped onto the property."

"We think that the Death Eater who set the wards would receive the alarm and could Apparate in to intercept the wizard," says Remus, looking at Ellen. "Which means your daughter must not set foot on the property for any reason. She could find herself facing a Death Eater"

"I already warned her of that," says Ellen, looking worried. "I will confirm with her what we've learned so she doesn't take any chances. She won't reveal any of this to anyone else in her law office."

"If anyone pressures Kendra to go there," says Jean, "She must let us know who it is. That may be our Death Eater sympathizer, if there is a conspiracy to capture Hermione. They caught us with our pants down regarding the witches who went missing and the attack on Poppy Pomfrey. We need to be more suspicious."

"I've been saying that all along," grumbles Moody from his corner.

Ellen sniffs derisively and pointedly ignores Moody. "I will let Kendra know," she says. "She can reach me at any time and I'll pass the word on."

"Did you check to see if there were any wards targeted at a specific person?" asks Limnoreia. "I would think that Hermione Granger would be the logical target for one."

"I was about to report on that," says Jean, looking grim. "Remus and I took a few strands of Hermione's hair with us. Remus monitored the wards while I approached them with the hair in my hand."

"I detected a change in the wards as soon as Jean came within ten paces of the wards. Hermione's presence would have triggered a magical response," continues Remus. "Literally every brick in the pavement up to the house was set to become a Portkey. We didn't dare go any closer to the house so we could analyze it further. I suspect we would have found most of the objects surrounding the house set as Portkeys to be triggered by Hermione's presence."

There is a place deep inside of me where rage lives. I can feel it roiling around inside of me, looking for a way out. I do not know which of my associates did this. When I discover who, I shall make them very sorry.

I realize that Hermione is looking at me. I would like to think that I have revealed nothing about my reaction to this news through my expression or body language. That does not matter, Hermione would know anyway. It is only the presence of the others that keeps me from reaching out to her.

"I've known all about this since Remus and Jean returned this afternoon," she says softly, so as not to be heard by others. "You warned me that someone might try this at the cemetery, so I wasn't surprised by the news, except for the timing of it. It had to have happened right after you revealed to the Dark Lord that I was the maiden brewer."

I have no opportunity to answer before the discussion continues.

"That leaves us with the question of which Death Eater set the trap," says Arthur, sitting up very straight next to his even taller son. "Especially since hair or something from the body of the target is required for these kinds of wards. I can't begin to tell you how upset this possibility makes me, but we should consider Percy a prime suspect."

Ronald Weasley mutters something unintelligible to Potter.

"I have never been able to confirm that Percy is a Death Eater," I report. "I would recognize his voice, if he spoke at any meeting that I have attended."

"I understand that, but we've talked it over as a family," says Arthur, with both Ronald and Bill nodding in agreement. "We feel there is a good possibility that Pettigrew recruited Percy. After all, he was Percy's pet rat for years before he was passed onto Ron. With the way children talk to their pets, he might know more than any of us about what was going on in Percy's head.

"I can't deny that Molly and I didn't understand Percy the way we do our other children and with the twins coming right after him, he may not have got the attention he needed from us. He's been estranged from us practically since the time he finished his education." Arthur bows his head, regret obvious in his expression.

I can understand why Molly and Arthur would feel that way. Quiet, bookish Percy who never made trouble would have got lost in the chaos of the Weasley household. With the hyperactive trouble-making twins arriving after him, Percy might have been ignored. He was clearly persecuted by the more clever twins and held in disrespect by his younger siblings. He could easily have resented it, along with his parents' poverty that deprived him of things he would have liked to have had during his school years. I understand the teasing of other students and the embarrassment of only having second-hand robes and books. His unresolved anger could have led to the same kinds of poor choices that I made.

"We should consider it possible that Percy or Pettigrew have hair samples from all the members of our family," says Bill. "Both Hermione and Harry have stayed at the Burrow before we warded the house against Percy. He could have collected hair from them, too. He could target any of us with a Portkey. Percy achieved a N.E.W.T. in potions and is probably capable of brewing Polyjuice, so any of us could be impersonated."

I will not say it aloud, but Pettigrew commented that he would like to _partake of a bit of mudblood _when the Dark Lord announced that Hermione should be captured. That wretched rat could have been traveling about in Ronald Weasley's pocket, watching Hermione since she was a child and lusting after her.

He will not get anywhere near her, nor will I allow her to go anywhere that he could get his hands on her. At first opportunity, I will use the rat as owl bait.

"Both are possibilities," I interject. "Either way, there is at least one Death Eater who has thought of this method of capturing Hermione. Either of those two could have obtained her hair and given it over to Bellatrix or a team of Death Eaters who actually set the wards."

"To find out who is behind this would require flushing out the culprit," says Sommersby. "That is a bad idea, since it would necessitate using Miss Granger as bait. I also question whether or not we really need to solve this mystery."

"We have twenty-one days until the summer solstice," I add. "I suggest that we simply ignore the situation. As far as we know, the only magical persons who have any real business on the property are Kendra Smith and Hermione. If they stay away, the wards will not be triggered."

"That makes sense," nods Sommersby. "If for some reason, we need to determine who set the wards, we can always change our minds. As Arthur and Bill have pointed out, we should be alert to the fact that there might be Death Eaters who have the means to Polyjuice themselves into any of the Weasleys, Mr. Potter or Miss Granger."

"I agree," announces Hermione, surprisingly calm in the face of this blatant attempt to kidnap her for the Dark Lord's punishment. "I'll simply stay away. I've stayed away since that last time I was there with Molly and Arthur eighteen months ago. I'll postpone making decisions about the landscaping or anything else that might require visiting the house. I can postpone it for three weeks."

"I have to leave to go back to St. Mungo's," announces Ellen, rising. "I'll contact Kendra first thing tomorrow and tell her to stall on the landscaping problem at the Granger's. She's smart and she's a lawyer. She's clever enough to figure out how to stall without it seeming suspicious."

Ellen bids farewell and is on her way.

"Second on our list of topics is progress on the weapon," announces Albus.

Hermione speaks up.

"We are conducting Arithmantic simulations that take each step of the process and break them down into factors that influence the final outcome of the potion. This is a painstaking process, made faster by the loan of a special computer from Digital Magic. Having run the simulations, we know the places where the containerization is breaking down.

"We believe that there is a temporal interaction between the charms that set off the crack cocaine smoke and the fire bladder extract mist three seconds apart and the charms on the container that keep the containment field in place for the ninety seconds required to make sure the Dark Lord inhales.

"We cannot vary the potion ingredients," she continues. "We should not vary the amount of time between setting off the cocaine smoke and the fire bladder extract mist. We can vary the composition of the container and the charms for the timing."

"If you're stuck," asks Moody, "Why not try the container the twins proposed? Maybe a less complicated system would work better."

"We cannot use latex," I reply. "It will not hold the timing charms stable. It releases the shield too early or does not cast it in time."

"Maybe a whole new approach is needed," suggests Sommersby. "Given that we are running out of time, is there a way our American allies can help us?"

"I don't know," says Hermione, looking thoughtful. "I could go back to Chicago and find out. It would require that we disclose everything about Happy-Sleepy and we've held off on doing that."

"Do you think your current course of action has sufficient promise of results?" asks Albus.

"We don't know," replies Jean, looking at Hermione and me for any signs of disagreement. Hermione and I both shake our heads.

"Our current strategy is to test out Morimoto's Temporal Factors," says Hermione. "We've narrowed down the factors we need to run, but it still takes about three hours to write out the formula by hand. If our allies can help us narrow it down further, it could save us days of work."

"When we consider the amount of time it will take to produce sufficient Happy-Sleepy orbs so that each flyer will carry one and extras will be available for resupply, we run perilously close to not meeting the June 21st deadline," I point out. "With N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s beginning on June 7th and continuing until June 18th, Bill and I will have little time to give to the project. Between classes and aiding study groups, our time during the week will be committed there."

"Is there agreement here about contacting our allies and requesting assistance?" asks Albus.

There are nods around the room.

This is the reality we have been avoiding. We have tried many possibilities, but are running out of time. Daniel Schuler promised resources if we need them. It is time to call in that promise.

It means Hermione must return to Chicago while I remain here. There is an unfamiliar tightness around my chest as I consider that I will not see her every day. I had been counting on that. At the same time, I know that Hermione will be safer there. The Dark Lord has declared the United States off limits to Death Eaters who would look for her.

"Seeing no objections," declares Albus, "I shall contact Daniel Schuler and make the request for assistance."

"I will return to Chicago tomorrow," says Hermione.

"I can accompany you," offers Jean. "We'll continue the work we've already started. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something from Schuler's people."

Hermione and Jean exchange companionable smiles and all I can do is offer my approval. Jean's presence will add to Hermione's security. She can more than hold her own in a duel.

"It's a good thing that I have a two bedroom apartment," says Hermione, cheerfully. "Now that Draco Malfoy and I have had our Occlumency tested, it will be okay to stay at my place. Besides, I can show you the Internet."

"I can't wait," says Jean, enthusiastically.

Jean and Hermione like each other. That is a relief and offers hope for future evenings when Hermione and I can enjoy Jean and Mike's company.

Would that qualify as a double date?

Of course not.

A double date would be going out with Draco and Anita.

Going out with Jean and Mike would just be going out.

That's better.

If Hermione goes back to Chicago tomorrow, it means I will not be having sex as soon as I would have liked.

Drat. There goes my oxytocin level.

"Both of you must keep us informed about your progress," orders Sommersby. "If we cannot complete the weapon, we must think of an alternative means of attack. However we accomplish it, we must prevent the Dark Lord from following through on his plans."

"Which now brings us to a critical issue," says Albus. "It has occurred to us that the Dark Lord may use a human sacrifice to set the wards at Malfoy Manor.

"It's only now occurring to you that he might do that?" Moody calls sarcastically from his corner.

"Not all of us have the advantage of your years of interaction with the criminal element to anticipate all possibilities," retorts Sommersby, putting a stop to Moody's recriminations.

"I asked Limnoreia to attend this meeting so we could discuss how we would respond to this possibility," says Albus, turning the meeting over to her. Limnoreia rises and stands by the fireplace.

"The use of human sacrifices when setting wards is largely an ancient practice," she begins. "The most common method was to use a blood ward and make it achieve the highest possible potency by using a victim or volunteer and bleeding them to death. Prisoners or slaves were used most often as unwilling victims. In more rare cases, a willing volunteer was used.

"To take down a ward set with a human sacrifice requires another human sacrifice," she says, darkly. "A ward set with an unwilling victim's blood can be taken down by using the blood of another unwilling victim. That's one of the reasons these wards fell into disfavor. They were used during wizarding wars and both sides would end up using victims captured from the other side for warding and taking down wards. All it really accomplished was using up prisoners."

"What about a ward set with the blood of a willing volunteer?" asks Potter.

"That is the most difficult type to deal with," says Limnoreia. "A willing sacrifice establishes wards that are impenetrable to any kind of magic that I'm aware of, except for the sacrifice of another willing volunteer. In ancient times, willing volunteers were usually obtained with promises that they would ascend to a privileged place in the afterlife. Other times, the volunteers made the offer so that they could save people they loved who would be protected by those wards."

"I know this doesn't have anything to do with blood wards, but there is something I have wondered about," says Potter. "The Dark Lord offered my mother the chance to live if she would step aside and let him kill me. She refused and tried to protect me, so he killed her. That willing sacrifice didn't involve blood, but it gave me protection from the Dark Lord until I was seventeen."

"That was a variation on setting wards with a human sacrifice," explains Limnoreia. "When the Dark Lord offered your mother a choice, he clearly didn't think things through. When she chose to stay and protect you, she became a willing sacrifice. That increased the potency of a parent's love to the degree that it became a protective ward around you that lasted until you reached the age of an adult. It protected you specifically against the Dark Lord, but not against another person who might have tried to harm you."

"If Riddle had thought it through," speculates Potter, "He never would have offered my mother a choice. If he had killed her outright, she wouldn't have become a willing sacrifice. She would have been another victim, like my father was. The protection wouldn't have happened."

"It is the only case I can think of where a ward deflected an Avada Kedavra," replies Limnoreia. "If your mother had not been a willing sacrifice, you would have been killed. A ward set by a willing sacrifice can only be removed by using another willing sacrifice. The Dark Lord would have needed a free will volunteer to die for the express purpose of removing the ward so he could kill you. Somehow, I doubt he would have found a truly willing volunteer."

"If the protection happened because of my mother's sacrifice," asks Potter, looking puzzled, "Why did I have to stay with my closest blood relative to keep the magical protection?"

Now, it is Limnoreia's turn to look confused. She glances at Albus before answering. His features are deceptively neutral.

"I don't think that would make any difference at all," she replies, softly. "The protection would be there no matter where you lived."

For the briefest of moments, a look of anger passes over Potter's face just as a momentary look of alarm passes over Albus'.

"I see," says Potter, a hint of long-simmering resentment in his tone.

I think Limnoreia has just realized that a large can of worms has been opened.

"I'll be happy to discuss this with you later," says Limnoreia, looking to defuse the situation. "Right now, we should discuss the issue of how to take down the wards at Malfoy Manor on June 21st."

"Yes," says Sommersby, his attention moving between Potter and Albus. "We should return to the topic at hand. You are saying that there is no known means of taking down wards set with a human sacrifice without using another human sacrifice."

"There are unconfirmed stories of it happening," says Limnoreia, looking relieved. "They are practically mythology. Sun Tzu is said to have accomplished it once in the 6th century, B.C. Scipio Africanus broke the wards and defeated Hannibal at Carthage in about 200 B.C. Itzcoatl of the Aztecs is also rumored to have done it in the 1500's. The historical records are so incomplete that I have my doubts that we will be able to confirm it. I can do more research. Tomorrow, I will leave for Mexico to look into more detailed information about Itzcoatl. I have contacts there who will be helpful."

"I think we are all in agreement that we would like to find an alternative to using a human sacrifice to bring down the Dark Lord's wards at Malfoy Manor. We appreciate that you are willing to make this a priority," says Sommersby to Limnoreia, who resumes her seat.

The tension between Albus and Potter is still palpable. Neither of them is looking at the other.

"I think it is very likely that the Dark Lord will use an unwilling victim to set the wards," I report. "He is unlikely to find a willing volunteer, but would not hesitate to kill a lesser Death Eater to set the wards."

"Therefore," says Sommersby, "We must be prepared for the worst." He looks down at his hands for a moment and then addresses the room. "Walter Selkirk is my grandson by marriage. He married my granddaughter, Catherine, who died almost fifty years ago. I took it upon myself to visit Walter today. As many of you already know, Walter participated in our efforts against Grindelwald. He was a dragon handler until three years ago. He had an especially bad experience with a rogue Hebredian Black and sustained lung damage that ended his career and will soon end his life.

"We had a heart-to-heart talk," continues Sommersby, grief leaking into his voice. "I did not tell him the specifics, but related that a battle may happen soon between the Order and the Dark Lord where a human sacrifice may be used to set wards to keep us out.

"Walter has two or three months left," sighs Sommersby. "He is not in pain, because the potions address it. He is bedridden and is looking forward to rejoining my granddaughter and other family and friends who have passed beyond the Veil. He has volunteered for this duty, if we need it. I did not ask him. He offered before I could ask. He said it would be no different than if he leaped in front of an Avada Kedavra to spare a fellow soldier on the battlefield."

Sommersby takes out a large handkerchief and wipes his eyes. Twenty-five years older than Albus, he is truly ancient. I have never seen him look older than he does now.

All of us sit here in silence. Hermione is brushing tears away with a handkerchief that looks like one of mine, except that the monogram is in white thread instead of black. Jean is doing the same with another one of my handkerchiefs.

No wonder my supply of handkerchiefs has diminished. I keep giving them away.

"It is never a bad idea to have a backup plan," says Limnoreia. "I intend to do my best to make sure we don't have to use it."

Amen.

--------------------------  
Author's notes:

The author is grateful to quite a few people for their help with this chapter:

Whitehound and Duj, who clarified when N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s are conducted during the Hogwarts school year. Credit should go to all of the regular participants in discussions at Loose Canon for giving me ideas that have gone into the plot of _Looking for Magic_.

Excessivelyperky for her thoughts on Percy's place in the Weasley family.

Snakegirl-Sprocket provided advice on snakes and toads.

Katyes, who has translated 81 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German, provided this translation: _Furchterregende Geister_: Scary ghosts

Frank Lloyd Wright did have a mistress with whom he had two children. Both of them were married to other people who refused to give the illicit lovers divorces. Wright's mistress and their children lived in Taliesin, his home in Wisconsin. In 1914, a chef employed by Wright burned down the residential wing of the house and murdered seven people, including the mistress and the two children.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Lipasnape, Morrigan, Keske, Arsinoe De Blassenville, Excessivelyperky, Murgy31, Sunsethill, KGDiva, Severessa, Notplainjane, Rinny08, Erytha, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, MoreThanSirius, Lyndie578, Wynnleaf, Yapyap, CharmedForce, Sweety-Pie-4554, Laurenke1, Squeaker19450, Sylphides, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Seth7, KimJo, Demmons1399, Pickles87, Puella Deorum, Hgelman, Maddie50, Starbridge, Jade2099, Notwritten, Ebbe04, PrincessSnuffles, Persevero, Duj, Chaotizitaet, Andi-Scribbles, Princessfiona, o0morgana0o, NervousAboutAngels, Oscarxena, KarlaMarie, Smiles28, Spst, Hobgoblin, LoveChilde, Koliber, Latinachikita, Magicdaisy, MollysSister, WE'VE STARTED A TREND, Droxy, Trulyamused, Persephone of Abydos, Ismene5, Pirra, Shifteleven, Graynavarre, Jocemum, Snakegirl-Sprockett, and Wati.


	93. Chapter 93

I don't own any of it.

Thank you to Julia and her help with this chapter, in spite of how busy her life is.

_Looking for Magic_ won Merlin, Third Class awards over at the On-Line Wizarding Library (better known as OWL) in the Action/Adventure and Best Cliffhanger categories. I want to thank whoever nominated _Looking for Magic_, all of you who voted for it, and everyone who has contributed to its development. This is the first fiction I've written in decades and I worked on it for a full year before I posted any of it. I wasn't sure that I could tell a story well enough to merit anybody reading it. All of you have done my level of confidence a world of good.

I also feel terribly guilty because there are only two chapters posted over at OWL because I've been so busy writing new material and getting things ready to post here that I haven't been working on cleaning up the early chapters to post over there. I promise that once I have _Looking for Magic_ done through the epilogue, I will go back to work on posting at OWL and finish _Memories of War_ and _Starting Over_.

---------------------------------  
June 5th, 1999  
Countdown: 15 days, 16 hours and 20 minutes until sunset, June 21st, 1999  
Hermione

"The propagation of the transverse density of the orb is facilitated by the magical value of the rune Kaunan applied in the fifth step. It must dissipate the energy within 3 seconds in order to be reconciled with the values established by the vibrations of the quartz sand in the glass. It becomes the mechanism by which the energy is transferred to the second level of projection, casting the static field around the subject and establishing a surface density of tau and 2 microns of particulate matter held in stasis by the containment charm," says Professor Ben Ari.

"Which will work only if we are dealing with the processing of the fire bladder extract in a copper cauldron. We used Pyrex because of the potential for interaction between the negative ions in the extract with the copper," I reply, shaking my head. I've said the same thing three times in a row. We absolutely cannot prepare the fire bladder extract in a copper cauldron.

"I agree," says Professor Boch, tapping his marker on the white board showing the portion of the formula he is working on. "That means the composition of the orb needs to be magically enhanced borosilicate glass."

"Copper is the best medium for holding the charm," insists Professor Ben Ari, her colorful skirts swirling as she turns to write on her section of the white board at the front of the lab. "That is why we installed copper squares in the walls of the laboratories when we did the warding. Can we infuse copper into the glass and keep it in pockets between 4 and 8 nanometers?"

"It would take some fine handiwork with the charms," replies Jean, who is sitting on the laboratory table. "I'll bet we can do it with a few tries."

"Excellent," declares Professor Ben Ari, putting an emphasis wave on the rune Kaunan that she just drew into the formula. "I suggest that you work on that and we will run the Arithmancy again to see how much of that null value this will address."

"Let's take a break," says Professor Boch, stretching. "I need coffee."

My mind is working at high speed. We will need to use methanol in formulating the glass for the orb. Then I'll add the organic molecules necessary to bond the copper molecule into the pockets that will form in the glass. I pull the volume on magical glass making out of my backpack and study the charms and wand movements necessary to create what we need.

I am oblivious to the world around me until Jean sets the Starbucks cup on the table next to me. I raise my eyes from the book and take a deep sniff. I smell cardamom, star anise, cloves, cinnamon, peppercorns, and just a touch of vanilla. It is my favorite chai tea made with soy milk.

It lures me like a siren's call. 

I'm getting good at identifying ingredients by their scents. Not as good as Severus, but I don't have his nose for it.

I miss Severus.

I'm horny.

Before I returned to Chicago, I had hopes of finding a way to sneak off with Severus for a little private time. I intended to raise his oxytocin levels to new heights. I expected mine to be raised in return.

Instead, Severus is in Scotland dealing with students who are having panic attacks over O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s and I'm here at Avalon doing some incredibly advanced Potions and Arithmancy work with some of the smartest people I know. Severus would love this.

It is intellectually satisfying, but not taking care of a particular itch in need of a good scratching.

I've only had sex exactly three times. I liked it and I'm ready for session number four.

Lacking a realistic alternative, I guess I'll settle for chai tea instead.

"Thank you, Jean," I sigh. 

"You're welcome," she replies. "Gerhardt made a Starbucks run." Jean's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "He drinks this thing called a Venti Americano that has four shots of Espresso in it. He says it sharpens his thinking, but I think we'll be scraping him off the ceiling before lunch." 

We share a chuckle over that one.

"When is Professor Littlehorse going to be back?" I ask, more rhetorically than anything else. "I've been looking at the spells required to infuse the glass with copper and the diagram of the wand movements is confusing. We might need a Charms expert to interpret them."

"Infusing copper into glass," mutters Jean. "How in the world do you and Severus keep track of all of this stuff when you're brewing?"

"We thrive on the details," I explain. "The more complex, the better. Though, with our deadline I'd be pleased to have a few simple solutions."

"I'll stick with Arithmancy," says Jean.

Professors Boch and Ben Ari rejoin us. I see a real spring in Professor Boch's step, probably caffeine induced. Professor Ben Ari peeks over my shoulder at the book I am holding.

"That diagram for the wand movements makes no sense," she says, frowning. She looks at Professor Boch. "When is Roger supposed to be here?"

"He said he'd be back from Wisconsin right about lunchtime," replies Professor Boch. 

"What in the world is he doing up there?" asks Professor Ben Ari, with a snort.

"He's got a cabin up near Eagle River and spends a lot of time there during the summer," remarks Professor Boch.

"That's as close to the middle of nowhere as you can get," says Professor Ben Ari. 

"Which is why he likes it," replies Professor Boch. 

"I like my big cities," comments Professor Ben Ari. "It gets too quiet out in the country. You can hear too many animals. Don't they have bears up there?"

"Didn't Roger show you the bear claw can?" he replies, conversationally.

"Bear claw can?" asks Jean, puzzled.

Professor Boch winks at me. I wonder if he is going to tell a true or made up story?

"Roger made the mistake of leaving an empty coffee can with bacon grease in it sitting by the open kitchen window. A bear happened to be moseying by and smelled it through the window. Roger saw it reach in right through the window screen. It tore off the whole screen, grabbed the can and carried it off. Roger found the can and the remains of the window screen the next day about twenty yards away from the cabin. The bear licked out the grease and dropped the can. He keeps the can in a glass case in his office. You can see the punctures in the can from the bear's claws."

"You are jesting," snorts Professor Ben Ari.

"He warded the cabin against bears after that," says Professor Boch, shrugging. "Ask him. He'll show you the can and the newspaper article about it from the local newspaper."

Professor Ben Ari is gaping at him.

"At least all we have to deal with in Chicago are gangs and crime," she snorts. 

There is a glow on the journal sitting on the laboratory table. Jean picks it up and opens it. To the rest of us, it looks like she is reading a blank page.

"Professor Dumbledore says that Limnoreia Lovegood will be joining us tomorrow," she says, perusing the blank page.

"She didn't have any luck in Mexico City?" I ask, concerned.

"No," replies Jean, shaking her head. "Albus has authorized us to discuss this issue with the team here."

"What issue?" asks Professor Boch.

"We're concerned that Lord Voldemort will decide to use a human sacrifice to set the wards around the site where the battle is likely to take place," she explains.

"That's a problem," says Professor Boch, shaking his head.

I think he is deliberately understating it.

"I've never heard of anything other than another human sacrifice that will remove such wards," says Professor Ben Ari, looking concerned.

"That's where we're at right now," says Jean, wearily. "If it comes to it, we have a volunteer who has a terminal illness and is willing to commit suicide. We don't want to go that route, unless there is absolutely no alternative. It is one thing to be killed at the hand of the enemy in a battle. It is a whole other thing to ask someone to kill themselves to open up the battlefield."

"You may have no alternative," says Professor Ben Ari. "You are lucky you have a volunteer. This may be a problem that has no good solution."

"That's why we have Limnoreia Lovegood working on it," I reply. "She's an expert on warding. She's investigating legends that have sacrificial wards broken by some means other than another sacrifice."

"Is she any relation to that rather odd English fellow who was here a few years ago?" asks Professor Boch. "He was looking for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, of all things."

"Really?" comments Professor Ben Ari. "Everyone knows there is no such creature."

"He didn't find one," says Professor Boch, "But, he got some excellent photos of the Sasquatch. We have two colonies in the western United States and three in Canada. They are rather shy and one must be very stealthy in order to get anywhere near them."

"The Muggle public catches sight of them, now and then,' says Jean. "They can't be too shy."

"Occasionally, one of the Sasquatch will leave the colony and wander about outside of their territory," explains Professor Boch. "That's when there will be a Bigfoot or Yeti sighting. Here in the States, the Department of Magical Creatures keeps a pretty close eye on them. I don't know how the Tibetan wizarding government handles things."

"You should ask Limnoreia if they are related when she arrives tomorrow. The Lovegoods are an old family in British wizarding circles, so there is probably a connection somewhere," says Jean. "Meanwhile, I think we should get back to work. We have two more temporal factors to go through today."

There is a chorus of groans.

-------------------------------

Professor Littlehorse arrives just as we are getting ready to have lunch. Professor Boch ordered an assortment of Chinese food. We are starting to pick through cartons full of mysterious vegetables and meats when Professor Littlehorse strides in.

Draco isn't with him. I thought he was going to join us and help with the Arithmancy.

"Where's Draco?" asks Jean, beating me to the question.

Professor Littlehorse leans over the boxes of Chinese take-out. 

"Where's the sweet and sour chicken?" he asks, picking up a plate.

I hold up a container and hand it to him.

"Thanks, Hermione," he replies. "Animagus training is hungry work and I've worked up a hearty appetite." He spoons the chicken and vegetables onto his plate and looks around for rice. I hand it to him. 

"Draco and I were interrupted by a signal from Professor Snape," says Roger. "We had to return to the apartment building where we were met by Snape. They left immediately for England."

"It must be for the meeting with Voldemort," I explain, worriedly. "Draco has been waiting for a summons."

I feel Jean's hand on my shoulder.

"We have to trust that he's ready," says Roger. "His Occlumency skills are very good. Voldemort won't be able to see anything he's not supposed to. Draco has been preparing himself for what to say and how to act. Don't borrow trouble before we've actually got it. He'll be back in a few hours."

I look down at my chicken and pea pods. I'm hungry, I'm going to eat, and then I am going back to work. The best thing I can do for Draco and Severus is to fix the weapon so that we win the war.

"Right," I reply, determined. "Draco can bullshit with the best of them and he has Professor Snape looking out for him."

"And we have two more temporal factors to run today," announces Jean again, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

I spear a piece of chicken with fierce determination and proceed to eat my lunch.

---------------------------  
Severus  
Evening

At moments like this, I can see the resemblance beween Draco and Lucius. The similarity exceeds the obvious physical points of blonde hair, good cheekbones, and blue gray eyes. It is in their bearing and the supercilious and rather bored expressions they both use to hide their true feelings in any situation.

Right now, they are standing beside each other. In spite of more than a months' separation during what is probably the most stressful time of their lives, their manner is formal and rather cold.

A necessary bit of play-acting, given that the Dark Lord has just entered the room.

A very select group is present tonight. Pettigrew and Rutherford, who are doing double duty by seeing to it that Lucius does not depart for places unknown, officially attend the Dark Lord. Ima LeDrox is here, which means that Bellatrix and Regina Woldscott are on duty with Narcissa.

Draco will not be permitted to see his mother. The Dark Lord is taking no chances that she will blurt out something that he does not want Draco to know.

It is also significant that Bellatrix, Rudolphus, and Rabastan are absent. They are on the Dark Lord's list of doomed Death Eaters. I wonder if any of them will be designated as a human sacrifice for the wards on June 21st?

All of us drop to our knees in the presence of The Great and Powerful Lord Voldemort.

My Occlumency shields are in place. Draco assures me that his are impenetrable. I can only hope that Lucius' are, too

"Rise, my dear friends," announces the Dark Lord. 

We stand, except for Draco who continues to kneel with his head bowed and eyes downcast.

"I am pleased to see you, Severus," the Dark Lord declares, smoothing his midnight blue robes as he takes his seat in front of the fireplace. "You may approach."

The Dark Lord's skin looks like flaking wax. I would guess that he is experiencing more of the effects of his shell's deteriorating health. 

I drop to one knee and bow my head to kiss the ring on his outstretched hand. My mind is schooled into proper stillness as preparation for the invasion that will follow. The Dark Lord places his fingertips beneath my chin and raises my head so he can look into my eyes.

Dagmar Bulstrode quiets as the Calming Draught takes effect. Her agitation over O.W.L. preparation has kept her from sleeping for two days. Sitting in the staff room as Albus goes over the N.E.W.T.s testing schedule. Reclining in my favorite chair in front of the fireplace. I am wearing my gray nightshirt, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. A tome of Dark Magic lays open before me as I look for spells that can reanimate the Dark Lord's body after he has moved into the Malfoy's new son. Draco sits across from me, taking notes as I drill him on the responses of the initiation ritual. Ima LeDrox, playing with the buttons on my coat, saying "We could be… incendiary," and then kissing me.

The Dark Lord withdraws from my mind.

He smiles at me with approval. I could almost interpret his expression as affectionate.

"Dear Severus," he says softly. "I am so pleased." His voice drops lower so only I can hear him. "It would make me happy to see two of my most devoted followers form an attachment."

"I believe we are both open to such possibilities," I reply softly, as if I am confiding in a trusted friend. 

The Dark Lord places his hand on my shoulder and gives a companionable squeeze.

This is such a special moment, I can hardly believe it.

I suppose that I do not believe any part of it.

I pretend that I am overwhelmed by the Dark Lord's approval and rearrange my features so that I look quietly happy. I wonder if there are any awards for this kind of acting? Surely, I deserve one. An Order of Merlin would do.

"Now, it is time to assess Draco's readiness to take on the responsibilities of an adult in our circle," says the Dark Lord, confidentially. "I anticipate that he will live up to our expectations."

He pats me on the shoulder again and dismisses me that I might rise and stand with the others.

Draco is still kneeling, as would be expected of one who is not yet a member of the Circle of Death Eaters. Lucius stands on one side and I stand on the other. Out of the corner of my eye, I observe no signs of nervousness on Lucius' part. He looks as cool as ever, in spite of the fact that his son's Occlumency is about to be tested.

The Dark Lord rises and speaks in a tone usually reserved for the most formal Death Eater ceremonies.

"Rise, Draco Malfoy, and approach me."

Draco comes to his feet gracefully. He walks towards the Dark Lord. As his sponsor, I accompany him and stand behind and to the side of Draco's right shoulder. My wand is in my hand and ready to be used. Draco is not a Death Eater and I am expected to vouch for his behavior. Should a supplicant be a traitor and make an attempt against the Dark Lord, I am expected to kill him on the spot. The same applies if the Dark Lord signals it should be so.

If Draco fails this next test, I will be ordered to kill him.

"Is there something you would ask of me, Draco Malfoy?" asks the Dark Lord.

"I aspire to serve you, my Lord," replies Draco, his head bowed in respect.

"Many aspire, but few are called," says the Dark Lord. "Why do you wish to serve me?"

This is a question that the supplicant is expected to answer from the heart.

Draco looks up and meets the Dark Lord's eyes.

"I learned the traditions of our world at my father's knee," says Draco, speaking of things we have rehearsed. "I learned the meaning of duty, loyalty, and the satisfaction of serving a cause greater than myself. My father's commitment to our cause has served as a living example of the kind of person a Death Eater must be. Steadfast and obedient to your will. Ever alert to the constant threats to our culture. Confident in the righteousness of our cause. Willing to serve and sacrifice to the death, if need be. It is the only way we can preserve our culture for the future. The value of this is greater than any one individual.

"I aspire to be like my father, yet bring my own gifts to your service. It would be my greatest joy to be the second generation of Malfoys to serve you. It would be my greatest hope to bring a third generation into your service.

"As I learned at my father's knee as a child, I ask for the opportunity to learn at yours as an adult. The Way of the Dark Wizard is the way of the future and I wish to be a part of the future."

Draco bows, his moving soliloquy completed.

His completely phony moving soliloquy completed.

Will the Dark Lord believe it?

"This is a serious commitment you make," says the Dark Lord, pensively. "Some of my followers have spent years in Azkaban. Others have spent years in hiding, awaiting my return. Many have been martyred to our cause. Are you prepared to give what others have given?"

"I am, my Lord," says Draco, reverently.

"I must know your thoughts," says the Dark Lord. "I require this of all of my Death Eaters. Do you freely offer your mind to my viewing?"

"I do, my Lord," replies Draco, sincerely.

"Look up at me," he commands. 

Draco looks up and opens his eyes.

"Legilimens," murmurs the Dark Lord.

Lucius and I wait in silence as the Dark Lord probes Draco's mind. Any errors or flaws within the Occlumency barriers Draco has erected using the Navajo techniques will reveal our secrets. If Draco falters and the Dark Lord learns that the Malfoys and I are traitors to his cause, we will all die tonight.

Lucius has no wand in his hand. I must assume that his wand has been confiscated. It is most likely in Pettigrew's possession. Draco's wand is in the pocket of my robes. I have every confidence that I could take on Pettigrew and Rutherford while protecting Lucius and Draco. Ima LeDrox is a deadly opponent in a duel. Add her to the mix and I have a serious problem. When the Dark Lord joins the fight, we are doomed.

Neither Lucius or I dare show any emotion. We must not so much as twitch and show any doubt or fear. Since Draco's probe began, Lucius has not moved except to brush back his hair.

One minute has turned into three. I can see Draco's shoulders beginning to tremble as the depth and brutality of the probe take their toll on him.

We wait.

My palms are sweaty and I dare not wipe them on my robes.

Four minutes.

Draco is obviously shaking now.

Five minutes.

Draco collapses. The Dark Lord leans back, having released the probe. He nods to me. 

I hurry to Draco's side and kneel beside him. He is barely conscious and obviously in pain. A quick diagnostic spell reveals no damage to his brain, but aftereffects from a rough probe. Pulling two vials from my pockets, I pop each open and spell them directly into his stomach. A few moments later, Draco is able to sit up.

"Thank you, Severus," he whispers. "I think I'm okay."

Draco returns to kneeling before the Dark Lord and I step back to my place beside Lucius.

The Dark Lord smiles down at Draco. This tells me nothing. I have seen him smile and then disembowel a victim.

He reaches out and strokes Draco's hair, allowing it to feather through his fingers.

Lucius stiffens almost imperceptibly. The Dark Lord is thinking about the initiation and the Mystical Union.

Draco smiles up at the Dark Lord.

"I am pleased with you, Draco," says the Dark Lord. "Your father and Severus have taught you well. I have seen the benefit of their examples in your memories. You are young, but so were they when they came into my service. I shall grant your request to be accepted into the Circle of Death Eaters."

"Thank you, my Lord," replies Draco, bowing from his kneeling position. "I am more grateful than I can say.

A wave of relief flows through me. Draco's Navajo Occlumency has held against the Dark Lord.

I detect a hint of relaxation in Lucius' posture. Draco continues to kneel before the Dark Lord.

"Peter," calls the Dark Lord. "Bring chairs for everyone and refreshments. We must take this time to talk and make plans for the one who shall be our newest Death Eater."

Pettigrew complies. In short order, we are seated in a half circle, facing the Dark Lord. Draco sits in between his father and me. Ima LeDrox is to my right. I cannot help but notice her, given that she is wearing a form-fitting scarlet gown that shows her figure and cleavage nicely when her black robe falls away as she sits.

She leans towards me and whispers.

"It is always such a relief when a new supplicant passes his screening," she confides. "Not that I had any concerns about Draco, given that he is Lucius' son and you are serving as his sponsor."

I nod in agreement.

"Those outside of the Circle have no concept of how difficult it is for us to see someone fail the screening or initiation," I reply. "We hold such hopes for those who would join us and it is a disappointment when they fail."

"To say nothing of the regrettable bloodshed," responds LeDrox, frowning. "The fools think we actually like that."

"They understand nothing," I reply, derisively. "The Way of the Dark Wizard is not for the squeamish."

"I understand _completely_," she says, emphatically. "What truly effective movement has managed to create social change on the scale we are striving for without shedding some blood? At the end, only the fit must survive."

"You have an interesting perspective on the Way," I comment.

"I have had plenty of time to think about it while I was in exile," she replies with a smile. "Doubtlessly, you have done the same. Perhaps we could compare perspectives. You have the advantage of having been here in Britain during those years."

LeDrox may have something useful to relate. I should take advantage of the opportunity.

"Perhaps we could meet some time to discuss it?" I ask, implying more than an intellectual discourse would take place.

"I'd be delighted," she replies, demurely. "Perhaps you could ask our Lord if you might be permitted to call at the Manor."

"I shall make the request," I assure her, casting a quick glance at her cleavage. When I raise my eyes, I give her an appreciative look which seems to please her. "However, I have very little free time, right now. The students are preparing for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, which will be administered over the next two weeks. Hogwarts will be in turmoil until those are completed. I shall have much more free time once term is over."

"Do you have any particular plans for the summer?" she asks, sounding genuinely interested.

"My plans are open at this point," I reply, dropping my voice. "I have a few ideas in mind, but they are entirely dependent on the cooperation of a certain lady."

Her eyes twinkle in a completely different manner than Albus has ever achieved. "I cannot imagine anything but your success in any endeavor you really put your mind to."

Pettigrew clears his throat and draws our attention. We realize that the Dark Lord has been watching us and is looking amused. LeDrox blushes and I am certain I look embarrassed. The Dark Lord favors us with an indulgent smile.

Unless I am mistaken, I have just flirted. I do not believe that I have ever flirted in person, before. All the flirting I did with Hermione was through our paired journals. Which reminds me that I have yet to see Hermione in a catsuit with a skirt. I agreed to give her my honest opinion about how she looks in such garb. I would rather _show_ her how I feel about her appearance in a catsuit.

Jean has suggested that I tell Hermione about LeDrox's plans in order to avoid difficulties later. She may be right.

"As long as I have the wisest of my councilors present," the Dark Lord begins, "This would be a good time to discuss what Draco has been doing in the United States. Lucius, if you would be so good as to bring your brothers and sister of the Circle up to date?" 

Lucius inclines his head in a courtly manner.

"If I might summarize," says Lucius, in his usual superior tones. He looks at his son, allowing pride to show on his face. "Draco has established himself as a student of Charms and Arithmancy at Avalon College. This has allowed him to integrate himself into a portion of American wizarding society. Most importantly, he has gained the confidences of members of the Schuler family. Draco is courting Anita Schuler, the only daughter of Daniel Schuler. Her father may very well be the wealthiest wizard in the world and wields enormous power in the United States and beyond.

"Draco has made an initial foray into American wizarding commerce," continues Lucius. "He has purchased and is renovating a twenty-eight flat apartment building. The flats will be ready by the end of summer to be rented out to students who attend Avalon College. This investment and demonstration of personal ambition has impressed Schuler and other influential Americans. Draco is networking and developing contacts that may prove useful."

"At my direction," says the Dark Lord, tapping his lower lip slit with his index finger, "Draco has prepared a report each quarter to provide me with information about American wizarding society. Clearly, we are not ready to take any action within the United States, but thirty or forty years from now, the situation will be different. 

"I have decided that Draco will remain in the United States after his education is over," he announces. "Our plans are long term. We will have an agent in place who can provide us with intelligence and resources when we are ready to make our move.

"Given these conditions," continues the Dark Lord, "I am open to suggestions as to how Draco could best serve our cause."

"How stands your courtship with Schuler's daughter?" asks Rutherford, doing his best to look intelligent.

Having a question addressed directly to him, it is now appropriate for Draco to speak.

"It is proceeding well," says Draco. "She and I have had some discussions about commitments. I see her parents on a regular basis, both formally and informally. I believe they have accepted me as potential son-in-law material. Mr. Schuler has even shown me a few techniques he uses in Arithmancy that fall outside of anything I have seen anywhere before. I didn't understand them," he confesses, "But, I think it is important that he has that kind of confidence in me."

"What can you tell us about the family's blood lines?" asks LeDrox. "I am certain that I can speak for my brothers of the Circle when I say that we deeply appreciate your family's willingness to allow you to explore taking a spouse outside of our own society so that you may benefit us all in the future."

"This is a sacrifice we are willing to make," says Lucius, loftily. "While her bloodlines are imperfect, Anita Schuler brings much with her that we can use. We are willing to overlook the deficit."

"Thank you, Father," says Draco, respectfully. "Daniel Schuler's family originated as Austrian Purebloods. Since they immigrated to the United States, they have made a point to breed outside of the usually accepted families. As a result, the Schulers would best be described as mixed blood. Daniel Schuler has very little magic, except for his remarkable talent with Arithmancy. I have rarely seen him with a wand in his hand. His wife is a Muggleborn and an architect. I cannot say that I have seen her use much magic, but she has been described as a strong witch. Anita has rather average magical talents and her older brother, Adam, is a little below average. Adam seems to have a talent for Arithmancy, but not to the degree that his father has."

"Given your own strong magical heritage," observes LeDrox, "There is no reason to believe that your children will sacrifice magical power for the sake of other advantages."

"Malfoys breed true," says Lucius, coldly.

"And the living proof of that sits here among us," replies LeDrox, graciously. "There are none more powerful among our brethren than the Malfoys, save our Lord himself."

"In many families, there is a single ancestor who is more important than any of those who followed," pontificates the Dark Lord. "In my own case, the talents and power of Salazar Slytherin appear to have remained dormant for generations and then burst into full bloom in myself. One single ancestor can make all the difference. I have every confidence that the day will come when wizarding families will say the same of the Malfoy line. When Draco gets children on Schuler's daughter, I predict that the strength of Malfoy magic will invigorate all the generations that follow."

"Then, it is your preference that I pursue this, my Lord?" asks Draco, suitably humble.

"It is," states the Dark Lord. "If possible, I would like to see you married to the girl within the next year. That will anchor you firmly to the United States and give you greater access to intelligence and resources we will need in the future."

It will also keep Draco away from his parents and allow them to give their full attention to his new little brother. The Malfoy household will be expected to revolve around the needs and wants of the new Dark Lordling right up until the time he decides to kill them all.

"With your permission," asks Lucius, "We will begin the process of making the traditional calls on the Schuler family after Draco's initiation."

"My permission is given," says the Dark Lord. He waves his wand and glasses of wine float into our hands. "I would offer a toast," he declares. "To the future!"

We all raise our glasses and repeat after him. "To the future!"

We sip our wine and offer Draco heartfelt congratulations. Rutherford and Pettigrew are teasing Draco by placing bets on how soon Lucius will have a grandchild. The fun and games are interrupted by the Dark Lord bringing the conversation back to serious business.

"I have been considering ways to help you blend into American wizarding society," says the Dark Lord, thoughtfully. "I agree that the Dark Mark would attract attention in a way that would not be beneficial to our plans at this time. You will receive a different Mark, one that looks like this." The Dark Lord waves his wand and an image forms in the air. 

It is an ouroboros, the serpent curled into a circle with its own tail in its mouth.

The duly impressed group offers the exclamations of their admiration as expected by the Dark Lord. In truth, I would rather have an ouroboros on my arm than the skull and snake that resides there.

"An ouroboros is a symbol of infinity," says LeDrox, admiring the image. "It is entirely suitable."

"Agreed," adds Lucius, pleased. "The red and black pattern on the serpent is aesthetically pleasing. Given that the ouroboros is an alchemical symbol, it should not attract undue attention."

"It will be applied at the base of the spine. It will not be seen by anyone except under circumstances that you allow," says the Dark Lord to Draco. "Even then, it should not raise any suspicions that it is anything more than a tattoo."

Unless Professor Franks or Madam Long get a look at it. I would imagine those two could spot a bond slave mark from thirty paces.

"I am to have the honor of the first new Dark Mark?" asks Draco, looking impressed.

"Indeed," replies the Dark Lord, with a lipless smile.

The Dark Lord's first gift to his intended older brother; a mark that will cause excruciating pain whenever he pleases and even kill upon command. He offers a gift that keeps on giving.

"Master," says Draco, "This is an elegant design and will not attract any negative attention, given the casual dress environment of the American wizarding world. I would be willing to bet that others will ask where I got it and if they could have one, too."

That has everyone laughing, the high pitched sound even issuing from the Dark Lord.

"I would certainly be willing to consider giving this mark to others," he says, smirking. "They would have to pass certain tests to prove their worthiness."

"A new Dark Mark as a recruitment tool," laughs Pettigrew. 

"It could become a new fashion trend," adds LeDrox, wryly.

"One day," says the Dark Lord, "The old one will be recognized as the honor that it is. Only my most senior Death Eaters will wear it. It will symbolize power and achievement."

"It already does," I declare. "To those who do not understand, it represents fear."

"When we achieve our goals," adds LeDrox, "It will be a status symbol."

"Absolutely," chimes in Rutherford, with an enthusiastic pound of his fist on the arm of his chair.

"We are not there, yet," says the Dark Lord, dryly. "We should return to business. Does anyone else have questions or advice for Draco?"

"Has anything happened with Potter's friend, the mudblood?" asks Pettigrew, trying to sound casually disinterested. He does not succeed. He is more interested than he should be, so I shall seize this opportunity.

"She returned to England after term ended and stayed for a short time," says Draco, his tone scornful. "She returned to Chicago a few days ago. I think she found all of the rules at the Weasley house a little too confining after being on her own for almost a year. She says she's going to get ahead on her studies and take a class this summer."

"Then it is unlikely that we will be able to bring her to the Dark Lord for justice," observes Lucius, looking to the Dark Lord.

"No," says the Dark Lord, sternly. "I do not want anyone to try and capture her while she is in the United States. It will put Draco at risk. I am satisfied that he is able to monitor her while she is in Chicago. I am more interested in who might visit her than in what she does."

"I shall continue to watch her, sir," says Draco.

"As long as we are discussing Potter's mudblood," I interject in a decidedly superior tone, "I have something to report."

The Dark Lord shifts in his chair and faces me. "Continue, Severus," he says.

"I have learned that, on Sunday, Potter and the youngest Weasley boy went to Granger's parents' home and discovered that it was warded," I report, conversationally. "Dumbledore's pet werewolf also visited and made an analysis of the wards. He discovered a set of wards that would detect Granger's presence and Portkey her to an unknown destination."

The Dark Lord turns and looks at Pettigrew.

"It appears that your hopes of capturing a new plaything will not be coming to fruition anytime soon," he says, sympathetically.

I push my rage deep inside. It was Pettigrew and his interest in my Hermione is sexual. I want to hurt him, but dare not be obvious about it. I wonder if I can set things up so that the Dark Lord hurts him. I could enjoy it vicariously.

"I shall have to be patient," replies Pettigrew, shrugging. "Sooner or later, she'll make a mistake. Maybe Draco could let me know when she's going to be in England."

"I will inform Father whenever Granger tells me that she is returning to England," says Draco, eager to be helpful. 

"That is all well and good," I remark, twisting this to my advantage. "Except that the Order knows that _Furchterregende Geister_ was set at Granger's house, which means that they know a Death Eater was behind it. I was not present when she was informed of this, but I am certain that she will go nowhere near the house. It may even be a reason that she has returned to Chicago."

The Dark Lord looks at Pettigrew accusingly.

"When I gave you permission to ward the girl's home, you assured me that it would be done with great subtlety," he hisses. "I told you that no matter who delivered her to me, you would have the use of her until it was time to deliver her corpse to Potter. Instead, you have tipped our hand to the Order and taken the chit out of our reach."

The Dark Lord's right hand twitches.

The silver hand attached to Pettigrew's right arm twitches.

_CRACK_

Pettigrew's head snaps sharply to the side as the silver hand slaps him across the face. He sits stunned for a moment. An instant later, he is on his knees, groveling before the Dark Lord.

"I – I'm sorry, Master," whimpers Pettigrew. "I thought that driving the Muggles away would get her there faster." 

The Dark Lord kicks him and he rolls onto his side, curling into the fetal position. He snuffles and whimpers, expecting more punishment.

"In case it is not obvious to you," says the Dark Lord, sarcastically, "The Order may choose to set a trap of its own. They will expect the Death Eater who set the wards to show up if they trigger them. You will stay away. I don't care if the Granger girl sets off the wards personally. Your stupidity has made it even more difficult to bring her to me for justice."

He leans back, wearily and closes his eyes for a moment. 

"Peter's foolishness has spoiled my mood and I am likely to be irritable the rest of the evening," he says. "The rest of you are dismissed." He huffs and pushes himself out of his chair. He gives Pettigrew one more kick before he steps over him and sweeps out the door.

Pettigrew turns into a rat and slinks off to a corner of the room. Perhaps there is a rat bolt hole in the wall where he can hide. The rest of us stand and keep our expressions blank. Draco looks to his father for some sort of clue as to how he should behave. Lucius puts his hands on his son's shoulders.

"You have comported yourself well and I am very pleased," he says. "With your responsibilities in Chicago and mine here, it is unlikely that we will meet before you return on June 20th to prepare for your initiation."

"I had hoped I could see Mother, while I'm here," says Draco.

Lucius shakes his head. "She is in Paris on a shopping excursion," he says, lying easily for the benefit of the audience. "Perhaps you can stay for a few days after your initiation. That will give us time to talk about your new duties as a Death Eater and plan out the steps in your courtship of Anita Schuler." 

"I look forward to it, Father," replies Draco. "It is only a few weeks away."

"I will entrust you to Severus' instruction until then," replies Lucius. "Besides, it is late and I am tired."

That is my cue to get Draco out of here so that Lucius' guards can take him back to the Manor without Draco seeing it.

"I will take Draco back to the Forbidden Forest," I comment with a nod. "He can Portkey back to Chicago from there."

LeDrox and Rutherford stand on either side of Lucius. Draco looks back at him as we leave. He won't see his father again until the day before the initiation is planned.

-----------------------------  
Hermione  
Evening

"The pizza guy was here, Hermione," calls Cindy, sticking her head through the closed door. "Edgar glamoured himself and paid for it. He says that you can pay him back tomorrow."

"Would you thank him for me?" I ask as the pizza box appears on the kitchen table. 

"I already did," says Cindy, floating her way into the living room. "He said that he and Dorothy had ordered a pizza, too. He said it was just as easy to pay for both of them at once."

"I can't get over how independent your house-elves are," says Jean, toweling her wet hair as she comes out of the bathroom. My Fashion Bug cotton eyelet shorty pajamas look tacky compared to her elegant slinky blue set.

"Don't call Edgar or Dorothy house-elves," Cindy reminds her, "They're _service-elves_. I made the mistake of calling them house-elves once and Dorothy threatened to report me to the union."

"Thanks for the reminder," says Jean, running her fingers through her hair. "I certainly don't need any union trouble."

The plates are already floating over to the table. I reach into the cabinet and take out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"I'm going to do a patrol of the building and keep an eye out for Draco," says Cindy, heading back towards the door. "I'll let you know as soon as he gets back."

"Thanks, Cindy," I call to her. "We'll save you the leftovers of the pizza. I'll stick them in the furnace room and you can get them in a few days when they're moldy."

"That's really sweet of you," says Cindy, disappearing through the door.

"Cindy is much nicer than my washerwoman ghost," sighs Jean, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. "Mrs. Jones does a great job with the laundry, but she's so grumpy all the time. It's hard to even get as much as grunt out of her. It's like she's in her own little world and hardly knows the rest of us are there. Except for our laundry. She loves our laundry. The hamper doesn't get anywhere close to being full and she's already doing the wash."

"Anita has a cousin who is sort of an expert on ghosts," I explain, as I charm the cork out of the wine bottle. "She says that sort of thing happens with Muggle ghosts all the time. She says that sometimes they don't even notice that time has gone by and things are changing all around them. They do things like walk up stairs that were torn down twenty years ago."

"I don't think Mrs. Jones is a Muggle," says Jean, opening the lid on the pizza box and looking over the contents. "Though, I'm not even sure that Mrs. Jones is her actual name. I inherited her from my mother, who got her from her mother-in-law. I think she goes back several generations."

"I didn't know wizarding ghosts could be inherited," I comment, handing Jean a glass of wine.

"Servant ghosts are the only ones I know of that can be inherited," says Jean. "I know I was glad to get her. She's no trouble and it is one less chore to get done. I tried to convince her that washing dishes was so similar to washing clothes that she should add it to her list of things to do. She ignored me."

I nibble on a piece of pizza and look up at the clock.

"That won't make him get back here any faster," says Jean, who is unnervingly observant.

"I know," I reply, sighing. "The Occlumency training we received should keep Voldemort out of his head. Still, being tested by Professor Dumbledore and using it against the Dark Lord isn't the same. If Draco slips, we all know what will happen."

"If Severus thought Draco couldn't do it," she replies, tapping her index finger on her wine glass, "He wouldn't allow Draco to come before Voldemort. That would doom Draco, his parents, and Severus. He'd cut our losses and send Draco into hiding. Then, Severus would tell Voldemort that Draco chickened out. It would be up to Voldemort to decide what to do about it."

"Severus would be punished for it," I reply.

"Probably," Jean answers altogether too frankly. "He's been Crucioed before and thanks to the two of you, we now we have a treatment for it. He'd survive. I think Voldy is too committed to the idea of being a baby Malfoy to do serious harm to Narcissa and Lucius. I think everybody would come out alive."

"I still find it hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy is on our side," I comment, picking up a piece of mushroom off of my pizza and eating it.

"Lucius Malfoy is on his own side," sneers Jean.

"You knew him in school, didn't you?" I ask.

"He was a year ahead of me," says Jean, frowning.

Her reaction has me very curious.

"So what did you think of him?" I ask, deciding to push a little.

"I think he's an egotistical, self-serving, amoral arse," she says with a snort.

I think I'll push a little more.

"That sounds like a personal reaction," I comment.

"It is very personal," snaps Jean.

Oops. Time to back off.

"I'm sorry," I reply. "I didn't mean to pry."

Jean gives me a knowing look.

"Oh yes, you did," she snorts. 

"Well, yes," I confess.

Jean is back to tapping her wine glass.

"Lucius Malfoy is the lying, cheating, bastard who got my arse fired from Hogwarts," she says, nastily. 

"Was he on the Board of Governors, then?" I ask.

"Yes," says Jean, looking decidedly stormy. She leans forward, looks me straight in the eye and launches into a rant. 

"When I agreed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I was determined that I wasn't going to get caught by the curse. Poor Mark Smith had just sneezed his way out of the job when the curse made him develop an allergy to Hogwarts. I wasn't going to be embarrassed that way, so I decided to beat the curse up front by signing a contract that stated I would stay only one school year with no option for renewal. I took a leave of absence from the Department of Mysteries for exactly one school year.

"I was going to leave voluntarily, so there was no reason for the curse to nail me," she continues. "Except that Lucius Malfoy had free access to the castle." 

Jean takes a rather generous swig of the wine, so I refill her glass and top up my own.

"That man considers himself the irresistible stud of the century," rants Jean. "He was already betrothed to Narcissa when he began putting the make on me when we were still in school." She takes another swig of her wine and looks at me conspiratorially. "I swear to God, that man was probably unfaithful to her when they were on their honeymoon."

I snort back a laugh.

"Exactly!" says Jean, vigorously tapping her index on the table to make her point. "So, there I was at Hogwarts, along with my husband to whom I am very happily married. Mr. I'm on the Board of Governors comes along and decides that I need to be another notch on his bedpost."

"He didn't!" I exclaim, appalled. I have another drink to fortify myself for the gory details. I look down and we seem to have finished the wine. "Would you like some fire whisky? I have some of the fifty year old stuff that Draco gave me."

"You have fifty year old Old Ogdens?" asks Jean, impressed. "Let's have some of that."

I pull out the bottle labeled _Tea with Ginseng_ and grab two glasses.

"That says _Tea with Ginseng_," says Jean, unnervingly observant again. 

Which makes me giggle.

"That is how Draco used to sneak liquor into the dormitory," I laugh. "The bottles are charmed so that all the wards detected was tea with ginseng. He refills them every time he goes home." That is a sobering thought. "You don't mind that we are actually drinking Lucius Malfoy's liquor?"

"Fill 'er up," announces Jean, holding out her glass. I pour until the glass is about one half full.

"Do you want any ice or soda in that?" I ask.

"Heavens, no," replies Jean, sounding rather offended. "Why ever would I want to ruin a fifty year old fire whisky by adding pollutants?"

"I think Severus feels the same way about it," I reply as I add ice cubes and some diet 7-Up to mine. I stir it with my finger and take a sip. "This'll do," I announce. I think I'll make a toast. I hold up my glass. "To good men!"

"And none of the evil ones!" finishes Jean as our glasses clink together.

We both take a good, healthy gulp.

"Now, that's smooth," declares Jean, carefully examining the color of her drink through the glass. He may be a skanky low life bastard, but Lucius Malfoy has good taste in liquor."

"Exactly," I announce, nodding with agreement. "Before I so rudely interrupted you…"

"Fifty year old fire whisky is NEVER a rude interruption," interrupts Jean. "However, we were discussing Lucius Malfoy, who is a complete and total prick. There I was, happy as a niffler with a pot of gold. I'm very happily married to a guy I love and who is great in bed." She leans forward and gives me a pat on the arm. "When a guy is really safety conscious and determined to look after ALL of the details, you have it made."

I hold up my glass. "To safety conscious and detail oriented men."

Glasses clink.

"Hear, hear," says Jean. "As I was saying, there I was perfectly happy. I enjoyed teaching. Severus and I had turned the Headmaster's robes black…"

I start to giggle.

"And Mike made Albus tie a string around his beard,"

I giggle louder.

"And Lucius Goddamn Malfoy decides he wants some action and screws it all up," she finishes with a huff.

I'm not giggling, now.

"What did that black-hearted bastard do?" I ask, persuasively.

"He made a pass at me. I turned him down and told him to go away. He didn't. A few weeks later, he made another pass at me. I warned him that if he did it again, I'd hex him." Jean takes a good reinforcing swallow of her fire whisky. "I had one week left. My resignation had been submitted to take effect on the last day of term. Limnoreia Lovegood had already signed a contract to take the next year. I was going to walk out of Hogwarts with my dignity intact." She pauses dramatically.

"Lucius had to make one more pass at me," says Jean, looking at me over her drink. "It was a matter of honor. I had to hex him."

"What did you hex him with?" I ask, on the edge of my seat.

"Brown roots," says Jean, confidentially.

"Brown roots?" I ask, confused.

"Think about it," says Jean, expansively. "All that platinum blonde hair. The pride and joy of any Malfoy, to the point where I swear they charm all their kids to have that hair color. Picture it. The kid comes out the chute and before they cut the cord, they charm the kid or potion him up or something so he's got that white hair."

"You made his roots turn brown?" I ask.

Jean giggles.

I giggle.

We are both giggling madly. I almost knock over the Tea with Ginseng bottle, but Jean rescues it and refills our glasses.

"You turned Lucius Malfoy's hair brown?" I ask, mentally pleading for details.

"Only his roots. That's the hex and I'm the only one who can ever remove it," she declares proudly. "The first one half inch of his hair will always look brown so that everyone will think he's been dying his hair blonde."

I start giggling again.

Jean giggles, too. "Except that the rotter found a way to magically dye his roots blonde so no one will know. But, I have the satisfaction of knowing that I have caused him a lot of inconvenience for the last ten years."

We're both giggling to the point where things on the table are shaking. It's my turn to rescue the Tea with Ginseng bottle.

"He fired you for turning his hair brown?" I ask.

"Technically, the Board of Governors fired me for hexing one of the Governors. I got fired one day before my contract ended. The curse strikes again," says Jean mournfully, taking a sip of her fire whisky to comfort herself.

"I'm so sorry," I offer sympathetically.

"Thank you," Jean replies, as I topup her glass. She smiles mischievously. "I'll get even. There's another hex I'm going to use on Lucius Malfoy the next time I see him. This one is really special."

Cindy pops her head through the door. "Draco's back! He's on his way up with a friend."

"Thank God!" I cry. Jean and I are both up, grab our bathrobes, and head for the door. 

"Wait a minute," calls Jean, grabbing my sleeve. "Cindy said he's with a friend. Let's make sure it isn't a Death Eater."

"The alarm wards didn't go off," I explain. "If it is a Death Eater, it has to be Lucius Malfoy or Severus."

I pull the door open, rush out, and lean over the rail to see Draco coming up the stairs. I have all I can do to stop myself from jumping up and down and clapping, which would be really foolish because I'd fall over the rail. 

Severus is after him.

They both look fine.

"Hush," says Jean, warning me. 

That's right. Somebody might be listening.

"Why don't you come in and have something to eat?" I tell them. "There's pizza."

"Sounds good," calls Draco, trudging his way up.

I pull back from the railing and turn away. I straighten and retie my bathrobe and tuck my hair behind my ears. Draco and Severus have reached the top of the stairs. I lead the way to my apartment and usher everyone inside.

Severus is here. He's in my apartment.

We're not alone. Jumping on him would be a Bad Idea no matter how horny I am.

Jean has her wand out and is reinforcing the wards that make what we say sound like gobbledygook. 

I grab Draco's hand and pull him over to the sofa to sit. 

"Did it go all right? Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine," replies Draco. His voice drops to a whisper. "He didn't get through and he bought our act. I don't think he suspects a thing."

"That is great news!" I exclaim and give him a big hug. He's hesitant for a moment and then hugs me back.

Draco pulls away. He looks at me suspiciously. "Have you been hitting the Tea with Ginseng?"

Jean, being helpful, holds up the Tea with Ginseng bottle. "Can I offer you two a drink?"

Severus leans over and takes the bottle, giving it a sniff. 

"That is definitely not tea," says Severus. "I could certainly use a fire whisky, assuming it is decently aged." 

"Unless Hermione has refilled the bottle since I gave it to her," says Draco, "It's the fifty-year old stuff."

"That will do," he says. 

I summon my glass and hand it to Draco. He's not so stuffy that he won't finish it. I'm pretty sure the amount of alcohol I poured in it will be enough to kill any germs.

Severus is looking at us.

I want to leap up and run to him and just do all kinds of things because I'm so happy to see him and I'm not supposed to do any of it in front of company.

"It is good to see you, Professor," I say, kind of formally.

"It is good to see you, Miss Granger," he replies. He puts down the Tea with Ginseng bottle and walks over to me. It looks like he is thinking very hard about something.

"Draco."

"Yes, Severus."

"Unless you wish to be shocked, I suggest that you close your eyes."

Severus reaches down and pulls me to my feet. My arms go around his neck, his arms go around my waist and he kisses me.

Oh, does he ever kiss me.

I'm pretty sure I'm kissing him back. My lips are a little numb, but I'm pretty certain I'm kissing him back. 

I think that clinking noise was Draco's glass hitting the floor.

That other noise is Jean laughing.

I don't care. I'm happy. If we didn't have an audience I'd climb up his torso and wrap my legs around him.

I suppose we had to come up for air sometime. 

Severus and I look at each other and just hold on for a while. What the heck, why not? I rest my head against him and he strokes my hair. I think Severus is looking down at Draco.

"Is there something you would like to say?" he asks Draco.

"Erm," replies Draco, stuttering.

"Yes?" 

"I – Erm," repeats Draco, uncertain.

"Speak up," says Severus in his Professor Snape voice.

"This – this is, erm, kind of a surprise," he says, sounding rather shocked.

Jean is laughing again.

"I thought," says Draco, stumbling, "I thought that Hermione was, you know, erm, seeing Bill Weasley. But, erm, that can't really be right, because she isn't the kind of girl who would, like, erm, fool around on a guy…." His voice trails off.

"Yes? Please continue."

"So," says Draco, his voice a little stronger. "If Hermione is not Bill's girlfriend, she must be your ..."

Jean is bent over, stomping, slapping at her knee and trying not to laugh any harder than she already is.

I feel Severus' left arm move away from my waist. My eyes are closed, but I can imagine how this looks. Draco is sitting on the sofa, looking up at us. His glass is on the floor, with a nice puddle of firewhisky next to it. Severus is standing and looking down at Draco. His right arm is around me. His left arm is raised and I think that he is pointing his index finger to interrupt Draco. 

My arms are around his neck and I'm clinging to him like a lamprey. No. A lamprey is like a bloodsucking eel. I'm just holding onto him like something that holds onto somebody really tight. 

"Hermione is my _intended_," says Severus, sounding very formal and official.

I sigh. _His intended_. That is so romantic. Severus is so romantic. 

"Intended?" asks Draco, testing it out.

"Intended," says Severus, firmly.

"Wow."

His arm goes back around me. I look up and he is gazing down at me, looking rather amused.

"I'm so glad to see you," I whisper. "I've missed you terribly and I was worried."

Severus smiles. He's got little crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. 

"So you were drowning your sorrows?" he teases.

"We weren't exactly drowning them," I reply. "We were talking and lost track of how much we were drinking."

"In that case, we should sit down," says Severus, disengaging himself and directing me over to the kitchen table.

"Come on over, Draco," says Jean. "You look like you could use some pizza."

She has her wand out and cleans up the spilled glass of fire whisky, summons more glasses and plates, and joins us at the table. Draco eyes the Tea with Ginseng bottle to see how much is left. He pours two glasses, neat, and places them before Jean and Severus. He pours the rest into two other glasses, adds ice and diet 7-Up.

Severus is looking on in horror.

Draco raises an eyebrow. "I know," he says. "It's disgraceful, but we've gone native."

Jean is smiling behind her hand.

"Do you want to tell Hermione or should I?" says Draco. "She should know why we won't be allowing her to go back to England for a while."

"I already know about the Death Eater wards at the house," I explain.

"There is more to it than that," says Severus. He takes a plate and moves a slice of pizza onto it. "_Accio_ knife and fork," he says and a drawer in the kitchen pops open and the requested items fly into his outstretched hand."

"Severus Snape!" exclaims Jean. "You are never supposed to _Accio_ a knife like that. You have no idea what kind of knife you might have summoned or what position it might be in when it arrived. You could have stabbed yourself."

"That's right," I protest. "You're supposed to be safety-oriented."

Jean and I start laughing and the two men exchange glances. Draco picks up a slice of pizza and starts to eat it. I suspect he is modeling the proper method of consuming pizza for Severus' benefit. Severus, ignoring him, cuts up his pizza and proceeds to eat it with the fork. 

"During the audience with the Dark Lord," says Severus, taking up where he left off, "I revealed that Potter and Weasley had discovered the wards and that upon further examination, Lupin found that there were wards that would be triggered by you. That enraged the Dark Lord, because it meant that Pettigrew had exceeded the Dark Lord's instructions."

"The Dark Lord ordered the Muggle repellent wards to be set?" asks Jean.

"No," replies Severus. "The Dark Lord did not want anyone other than Hermione to be affected by the wards. She was to be Portkeyed to a location selected by Pettigrew, where Hermione was to be his _plaything_."

"What?" I ask with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Draco puts down his pizza, looking like he has lost his appetite. "It was made pretty clear that the Dark Lord has promised you to Pettigrew for his use until your dead body is to be delivered to Potter."

Two pieces of pizza, a few glasses of wine, and three glasses of fire whisky threaten to make a sudden reappearance.

"That will not happen," says Severus, his voice sounding positively deadly. "Neither Pettigrew nor any other Death Eater will get anywhere near you. The Dark Lord has banned any Death Eaters from coming to the United States, because he wants Draco's position to be secure. He wants Draco married to Anita Schuler within the year. The solution is obvious. You will remain in the United States and not return to England until the situation is resolved."

"Which it will be on June 21st," says Draco, determinedly. "When we take down the Dark Lord, we'll capture a lot of the Death Eaters along with him. Pettigrew is always with the Dark Lord, so we'll get him. You'll be perfectly safe after that."

It occurs to me that there is a misunderstanding here. "You do understand that I will be there on the 21st, fighting right alongside everyone else."

"Under the circumstances," says Severus, emphatically, "That would be unwise. If something should go wrong and we do not bring down the Dark Lord, you would risk being captured and given to Pettigrew. Under the circumstances, no one would think less of you for staying away."

"I would think less of me," I tell him emphatically. "If you look at it realistically, I would be at no more risk than any other woman on the battlefield. If the Dark Lord wins, any of us women who are captured take the chance of being sexually assaulted."

"She's right about that," says Jean.

"You are Harry Potter's friend," retorts Severus. "That makes you an even more important target."

"He's right about that," says Jean.

"So is Ron Weasley and no one is talking about keeping him off the battlefield," I respond.

"She's right about that," says Jean.

"Weasley is an apprentice Auror and has battle skills that you do not," insists Severus.

"He's right about that," says Jean.

I can't counter that one.

"Not only that," continues Severus, "When was the last time you participated in dueling practice?"

"I haven't since Hogwarts," I confess. "Defense Against the Dark Arts really isn't offered as a course at Avalon."

Severus is pointing his fork at me to emphasize what he is saying.

"When your two friends tried to convince you to join the Aurors with them, you declined. While your talent in Potions would make it a terrible waste for you to pursue anything else, you admitted that you are simply _not the warrior type_."

"Neither are a lot of the people who will be fighting," I reply, getting angry.

"They are not being targeted as a desirable plaything by a specific Death Eater who has the Dark Lord's favor," says Severus, scowling. "Death Eaters are well-trained in dueling. I should know since Lucius and I were given responsibility for training them. You are not in their league, which means our fighters will have to watch out for you when they should be focused on attacking the enemy. Under the circumstances, you are a liability on the battlefield and I will use all the influence I have to ensure you are not on it."

"You will not!" I shout.

"I will, too!" he shouts back.

"No you won't," says Jean, brandishing a wand at both of us. "Be quiet or I'll _Silencio_ the two of you so I can talk."

Severus and I both glare at her. Draco pulls away from the table, clearly staying neutral. Disloyal wretch. He should be on my side.

"You both have good arguments for your points," she begins. "Before we get to that, there is something that Hermione and I know that you and Draco don't. I've been communicating with Albus and Daniel Schuler. Tomorrow, we're going to gather most of our resources here to work on the weapon. We know that the Hogwarts contingent can't attend, because it would be noticed and probably reported back to the Dark Lord. But, Remus Lupin, Ellen Smith, Harry Potter, Fred and George Weasley, and Limnoreia Lovegood will be joining us at the college to work on the weapon. We're going to break this log jam or figure out a whole different approach."

Severus holds up his hand, signaling peace. Jean nods.

"That is an excellent strategy. I disagree that none of us from Hogwarts can leave. Bill Weasley is not a Head of House and should be able to leave for a portion of the day. He is believed to be Hermione's romantic interest and that is an acceptable alibi. I can be standing by with the paired journal that I keep with Hermione."

Draco coughs and Severus rolls his eyes at him.

"I will answer any questions I can and if there are questions for Minerva, I can pass them on," he finishes.

"I will speak to Albus about Bill," says Jean. "If all goes well, Hermione and I will spend the week making weapons."

"I'll help," interjects Draco. "I'm free in the afternoons."

"There will be enough work to go around and an extra wand will be welcome," says Jean. "Now, the next thing will be preparations for the battle. We haven't figured out if it will be Saturday or Sunday, but next weekend we are going to have a practice session for the flyers. Roger Littlehorse has volunteered his land up in northern Wisconsin."

"You have to let me in on that," says Draco, eagerly. 

"Of course," says Jean, smiling. "We're going to have dueling practice while we're there. Hermione will participate in that and I will judge how she does. In case anyone here has forgotten, I do recollect having taught Defense Against the Dark Arts," she says rather snidely. "If I determine that Hermione has the skills to participate in the battle in a meaningful way and without being a liability, then she will be part of the ground troops on June 21st. If I determine that Hermione can't carry her own weight and contribute to the attack, she will stay behind."

"Is that agreeable to everyone?" she says, looking pointedly at Severus.

It will give me a fair chance to prove my worthiness to be on the battlefield.

"I agree," I state, confidently.

"I agree," says Severus, reluctantly.

"In that case," sighs Draco, "I'm going to go to my apartment and call Anita. I've had all the surprises I can deal with in one day."

"That's all right," says Jean, "I'm sure Hermione can see Severus off, unless there is anything else we need to discuss?"

--------------------------

We are standing in front of the doorway to the transportation room. 

"We had our first argument," I say softly.

"You should have allowed me to win," says Severus, only half teasing.

"If I had, you'd expect that sort of thing to happen on a regular basis," I retort, teasing back.

"I want you to be safe," says Severus, coming closer.

"I want you to be safe, too," I reply, "But, I know better than to suggest that you stay out of the battle." I step a little closer to Severus.

Severus is close enough that I could reach out and…

"You could stay tonight," I offer. After all, I've been horny all day.

"Jean is sleeping in the next room," he replies. "Otherwise, the offer would be more temptation than I could refuse."

"Maybe next weekend? I know that you can't leave during the week with N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s."

"If I can sneak away, I will," he promises. "We'll send Jean out for pizza."

I chuckle.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Severus tilts his head and we meet in the middle.

--------------------------  
Author's notes

Unlike other parts of this story, the magical and scientific formulas referred to here are part science, part folklore, and part gibberish. Sources include the Periodic Table of Elements, The Alchemy of Glass, assorted theories and notes on electromagnetic fields, and my bizarre imagination.

The story about the bear and the can of bacon grease is true. I have personally seen the bent can with the bear claw punctures.

Translation provided by Katyes:  
Furchterregende Geister: Scary ghosts

Thank you to all my reviewers: Trulyamused, Lipasnape, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Persevero, Phoenix's Feather, Murgy 31, Jocemum, Sunsethill, Darque Hart, MollysSister, Wynnleaf, Sylphides, Satay, Keske, Persephone of Abydos, Lonelygirl54, Laurenke1, Demmons1339, Yapyap, KGdiva, Eytha, PrincessSnuffles, Kimjo, o0morgana0o, morethansirius, Notplainjane, Maddie50, Oscarxena, Martyjeannine, Droxy, Notwritten, Mysticsong1978, Ceralyn, SiriusDesires, Princessfiona, T, Pickles87, Duj, Kcole., Puella Deorum, Magicdaisy, Ebbe04, Latinachikita, Jade2099, Mela, Kirien, Koliber, Seth7, Hgelman, Blueartemis, WE'VE STARTED A TREND, Ismene5, Dark Lady of the Circus, Squeaker19450, and Wind of Freedom.


	94. Chapter 94

I still don't own it.

Thank you to Julia, who managed to find the time to go through this chapter. We are all hoping that you and the family will have a great vacation.

This website has removed all of the dash lines that I used as dividers throughout the story. When I have some extra time in a future decade, I will go through the previous 93 chapters and put the dividers back. Sigh.

* * *

June 6th, 1999  
Countdown: 14 days, 17 hours and 20 minutes until sunset, June 21st, 1999  
Severus

"I will give you a pass to the Restricted Section. Madam Pince will allow you to look for John Fitzwilliams' _Treatise on the Conjuring of Demons_. You will find a comprehensive list of demons within. Using that list, you will have to look up the means to dismiss each demon. You will be allowed to use relevant books within the confines of the library."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," says Robert Dumont, somewhere in between nervous and respectful. At least that is my assumption, given the way that he is twitching.

"You should have worked on this months ago," I lecture. "Your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. is three days away."

I hold out the pass and the boy takes it gingerly, as if the parchment itself contains a demon. He turns and walks as quickly out the door as he can.

Idiot. When will these children realize that one cannot cram seven years of education into two weeks of studying before N.E.W.T.s?

The house-elf answers my request for tea promptly. At least the house-elves are always prepared. I wonder if there are any spells that could give humans the organization and planning skills of house-elves? I would certainly apply them to selected students from Slytherin.

The fireplace flares and I hear a familiar voice.

"Severus," says Minerva, "May I come through?"

"Of course," I reply.

There is a flash of green and Minerva steps into the room, brushing ash off her shoulder.

"I shall have to ask the house-elves to clean the internal floo system," says Minerva after a hearty sneeze. She takes the chair in front of my desk.

"Would you care for tea?" I offer.

"Certainly," she replies.

I prepare her tea with milk and two sugars, just as she likes it. I hand it to her and take my seat behind the desk.

"I have already seen Albus, this morning," says Minerva. "He told me that things went well last night with young Mr. Malfoy."

"They did," I reply. "The Navajo Occlumency techniques he has learned kept the Dark Lord from seeing anything we did not want him to see. The Dark Lord has declared that Draco will be accepted as a Death Eater."

"That is very good news for our purposes," says Minerva. "So, why do you look so glum?"

"Hermione and I quarreled last night," I reply, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. I would like to think that I do not look like I am sulking.

"Every couple quarrels, sooner or later," she says. "I would expect that two people who are as strong willed as the two of you are will argue occasionally. One of the best parts of arguing is make-up sex."

"Given that Jean and Draco were in the room at the time, I can assure you that there was no make-up sex." I cannot believe I am discussing any aspect of my sex life or lack thereof with Minerva.

"Ahh," she sighs. "No wonder you are sulking. You missed the best part of the argument."

"I am not sulking."

"As you wish," says Minerva, sounding like she is going out of her way to be patient with me. "What did you quarrel about?"

"One of the things I learned while I was with the Dark Lord," I begin. "The Dark Lord has promised Pettigrew that he may have Hermione as his plaything."

Minerva looks horrified.

"Oh dear," she says, disgusted. "I wonder how long that wretched creature has been thinking about that?"

"He spent four years watching her as Weasley's pet rat," I mutter.

"I can see why both of you would find this news distressing, but why would you quarrel about it?" she asks.

"I want Hermione to stay in Chicago until this situation is resolved," I reply, firmly. "The Dark Lord has banned any action against her while she is there."

"You had to know that Hermione would not agree to any such thing," replies Minerva. "That would keep her out of the battle."

"She is an exceptionally attractive target, under the circumstances," I insist. "I had hoped that common sense would prevail."

"Common sense has nothing to do with anyone's participation in this," says Minerva, thoughtfully. "If we had any sense, we would hide under our beds. Hermione has been in the middle of this since her first year in the magical world. She is not going to agree to be left behind when everyone she has been fighting for will be on that battlefield."

"I suppose that you are right." It is my turn to sigh.

"Did you resolve your quarrel?" she asks.

"Jean mediated after we reached the point of shouting at each other," I reply. "Sometime next weekend, the flyers are going to practice their strategy in northern Wisconsin. There will be dueling practice, too. Hermione is going to participate in the latter. Jean will make a judgment as to whether or not Hermione's skills are sufficient to take part in the battle. We have both agreed to abide by Jean's decision."

"That seems a reasonable compromise," offers Minerva. "I think you should go, too. You can see for yourself what Hermione's skills are. You will either feel better because Jean will ban her from the battlefield or because her skills are in better shape than you expect."

"I should not go," I state. "We agreed that the Heads of House should not absent themselves during N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. exams."

"Normally, I would agree,"replies Minerva, "But, these are exceptional circumstances. The Dark Lord has given you permission to travel to Chicago to prepare Draco for his initiation. That is your excuse if any students report your absence to family who are Death Eater sympathizers. Besides, no one is better prepared to train our Order members to face Death Eaters in battle than the one who has trained Death Eaters in fighting skills. If you are gone for half of the day, it should be excusable."

"You make a good argument for it," I reply. "I will consider it."

"Good," says Minerva, reaching over to pat my hand. She looks at me as if she is analyzing me. "Something else is bothering you."

Minerva is either getting exceedingly good at reading me or my facial expressions are giving too much away.

"No," I insist. "Nothing else is bothering me."

"Severus," says Minerva, gently. "I am going to take a guess and you may certainly tell me if I am wrong. Is it troubling you that you argued with Hermione because it reminded you of your parents?"

"No, of course not."

Minerva is staring at me. She does not believe me.

Damn.

"I do have a temper," I reply with a huff. "It is something I have always had to deal with." Minerva is much too perceptive.

"At any moment when you were quarrelling, did you want to strike her?" asks Minerva, in a matter-of-fact manner.

"No, of course not," I repeat.

"Then what is it?" she asks.

I did not do it, so I suppose it would not harm anything to admit it.

"I kept thinking that I would like to hide her away where no one could find her," I reply, softly. "I thought about locking her up here in the dungeons until all of this was over."

"I think that is a rather protective response to the kind of threat she is facing," says Minerva. "It is hardly abnormal to think about such things. You thought about it, but as I look about, I see no sign that she is locked up here in your quarters."

"I cannot help but think about how my father kept us away from everyone," I reply, looking away. I am rather ashamed to even speak of him.

"So, what did you do when you had Hermione alone?" asks Minerva, carefully.

"I kissed her," I reply, with a shrug. "We had resolved the quarrel for the moment."

"If you were truly like your father," says Minerva with certainty, "You would have slapped her."

"Do you think so?" I ask, starting to feel relieved. The thought of hitting Hermione never even occurred to me.

Minerva nods.

"Severus," she says, reaching across the table and putting her hand atop mine, "You were twelve years old when your father died. Your memories of him are from a twelve year old's perspective. I knew him as a fellow student and later as an adult. The two of you are more different than alike."

Minerva squeezes my hand.

"You look like your father," she continues. "You have the same tall thin frame that he had. I must say that you definitely have the Snape nose. I rather think it looks better on you," she says, with a teasing smile. "It lends you such character and dignity.

"There are other ways in which the two of you are similar. He was intelligent, though I think that you are brighter than he was. You do have a temper, but his was far worse. I don't think that you understand how differently you handle things from the way that he would have.

"I daresay that if any woman your father courted had shouted at him during a quarrel, he would have verbally abused her or struck her as soon as he had her alone. That was certainly the case with the girls that he dated while we were students. You said that you kissed Hermione. You thought about hiding her and letting her out when the danger is past. I think that is more of a protective emotional response than anything else. You were not planning to follow through on it?"

"No," I sigh, "She would never let me get away with it."

"There you have it," says Minerva, with another pat. "You are not your father. You never have been," she says, definitively.

Minerva has a point. Thinking and doing are different things, entirely. I think a lot of things that I never follow through on, whereas my father was willing to do the unthinkable.

"Thank you," I reply softly, not trusting my voice.

"Think about going to Chicago next weekend," says Minerva, brusquely. "While you are there, you might want to find some time for that make-up sex. It will probably do both of you a world of good."

I can only shake my head as Minerva departs through the fireplace.

* * *

Hermione  
June 6th, 1999  
Morning

Thank heaven for the hangover potion I made at the beginning of term. I haven't needed any since the time before Christmas when I drank too much with Draco and Anita. At the time, I was despairing that I'd ever get anywhere with Severus. The situation has certainly changed since then. That was lovely when Severus kissed me right in front of Draco and Jean.

He kissed me in front of someone he thinks of as a nephew! Severus corrected Draco and told him that I am his _intended_. That's as close to a public declaration of our relationship as it can get, at least right now.

Poor Draco seemed totally shocked by it. Not only was honorary Uncle Severus kissing Muggleborn me, but it meant that none of what he'd seen between Bill and me was real. I actually managed to fool a Slytherin. I can't wait until we have a chance to actually talk about it. We had all of about five minutes this morning before Draco Apparated to Wisconsin for his Animagus training with Professor Littlehorse.

Jean is coming down the stairs with Cindy floating beside her.

"They've actually written books about me," says Cindy, proudly. "Anita and Warren said that they've seen stories on television about me, too. They are trying to get copies of episodes from the TV shows so I can see them."

"That is really amazing," says Jean. "You're famous and they had the name wrong all these years."

"Muggles just can't hear it when I say Cindy," she replies, "All they seem to hear is the 'y' at the end and they decided my name must be Mary. That's how I got the name Resurrection Mary."

"Too bad Draco can't straighten them out on that," says Jean, commiserating.

Cindy shrugs, making her feather bob and the fringe on her dress sway. "It can't be done without revealing the wizarding world, so I just have to live with it. Or, be dead with it, depending on how you view it. In September and October, I'll spend some time on Archer Avenue so I can keep the legend of Resurrection Mary going for the tourists."

"Can you travel back and forth from there?" asks Jean.

"Not exactly," replies Cindy. "I'm a hitchhiking ghost, so I can travel anywhere by any sort of vehicle. I can stay here, as long as I don't step off Draco's property. As soon as I step onto the sidewalk or into the alley, I'll get pulled back to Archer Avenue. Hermione can't drive, but the rest of the gang can. They know that if I disappear, I probably got sucked back. They'll drive out to Resurrection Cemetery and I'll meet them there. As soon as I get into a car, I can come right back."

"It's not as handy as Apparation, but seeing how badly I splinched last time I Apparated, it is probably for the best," says Cindy, laughing. She turns to me. "I'm going to go outside and play with Crookshanks. He loves chasing me up the tree in the backyard and then we sit and scare the birds."

"Have fun, both of you," I call to her as she glides away. "She loves spending time with Crookshanks," I explain to Jean. "We're all keeping an eye out for a ghost cat. Cindy would love it if we could get her a cat that she could hold and pet."

"We could try a Summoning charm," suggests Jean. "Those are risky, though. You could end up with a dozen ghost cats."

"Crookshanks is half Kneazle," I mention. "He has surprisingly good judgment about character of other animals. He knew there was something he didn't like about Scabbers and tried to catch him. I wonder if he could help sort through a herd of ghost cats and find one or two who would like to belong with Cindy?"

"Scabbers?" asks Jean. "That was Pettigrew's name when he was the Weasley's pet rat, wasn't it."

I nod.

"Darn shame he didn't eat that rat," she says, grimacing. "He could have saved us some trouble."

"True," I reply, "But, Pettigrew probably would have given Crookshanks indigestion and kitty diarrhea is never fun to deal with."

"Imagine pooping Pettigrew," suggests Jean, with a smirk.

We both laugh at the idea as we sit down at the table and chairs in the lobby. I hand Jean one of Dorothy's breakfast yogurt parfaits. How can one argue with layers of honey flavored yogurt, fresh sliced strawberries and bananas, and homemade granola? Jean helps herself to coffee.

Jean smiles as she pulls out two of the pink packets of artificial sweetener from the packet holder. "I discovered this stuff when I when I was a teenager and went on a totally unapproved jaunt through a Muggle grocery store. I was amazed that they had found a way to make things sweet without calories." Jean leans forward and offers a conspiratorial smile. "I used to flaunt it right in front of Lucius Malfoy. It drove him nuts."

"You really like tormenting him, don't you?"

"Whenever possible," says Jean, with a positively evil expression. She tears the two packets open, rather violently, and pours them into her coffee. She may have been thinking of them as a part of Malfoy's anatomy. "I wonder if Malfoy ever found out that I turned Narcissa on to no calorie sweeteners? Until she finished at Hogwarts, she used to pay me to get it for her. She'd open the packets and put it in a sugar bowl to keep Lucius from finding out."

We both laugh in evil glee.

"By the way, Severus makes great tea, but don't ever let him make the coffee," says Jean. "It will be thick enough to use as paint and can substitute for Pepper-Up Potion, if you run out."

"Thanks for the warming."

Looking at the clock on the wall, I can see that we have about twenty minutes before the British contingent are supposed to start arriving. Time enough to ask a few questions.

"What was Severus like when you were students?" I ask.

"Serious and quiet," she says, licking some of the yogurt off the spoon. "Smart as a whip. Even as a first year, he knew a lot more than his year mates about Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. His mother made sure that he was well-educated before he came to Hogwarts. That was one of the things that got him targeted by James Potter."

"Really?"

"Potter was everyone's fair haired boy, as the saying goes," says Jean. "For all that he had black hair. He was rich, good looking, magically talented, and smart. Things came easily to him. It didn't take long for Sirius Black to become his chief sidekick. Those two were particularly interested in establishing the pecking order among the Gryffindor first years. Before long, Lupin and Pettigrew were part of the pack."

"You refer to them as a pack?" I ask. "Surely, nobody knew about Remus, then."

"No," replies Jean. "I have the advantage of hindsight in the matter. Nobody outside of Gryffindor was paying attention to Remus Lupin or someone would have put the clues together and figured it out. Gryffindors have been known to turn a blind eye to some pretty outrageous behaviors among their own.

"I can't deny that," I confess. "The Headmaster allowed us to get away with anything just short of bloody murder." The whole subject brings back dreadfully guilty feelings about Marietta Edgecomb. She may have been a sneak, but putting the word on her forehead was probably too much. I don't know if they ever figured out how to get it off.

"Literally, just short of bloody murder," snorts Jean. "From the vantage point of twenty years later," she continues, "I can see that Remus needed a pack to run with. He was turned obscenely young, so the needs of his inner wolf are pretty strong. Remus is not an alpha, he's a follower. James was strong and protective of his friends. That gave Remus an alpha and a place in a pack. It was good for him, but bad for everyone that James or Sirius had a problem with."

"Was the bullying as bad as I've heard?" I ask.

"Just as bad and probably worse," says Jean, pouring herself a second cup of coffee. "The older Black got, the crazier he became. I was two years ahead of them and it is not cool to pay attention to the kids who are younger than you and outside of your own House. Everybody, and I mean _everybody_, knew to keep away from Black when he was on a rampage. He was an absolute menace. I wasn't surprised when he ended up in Azkaban for betraying the Potters. I was very surprised when it turned out it that he hadn't done it."

"There was bad blood between Severus and the Marauders from the beginning. I suspect that when it began it was because Severus was a smart Slytherin, which was the equivalent of painting a target on your back where Black was concerned. He was determined to show that in spite of the Blacks tending to end up in Slytherin, he was a true red and gold blooded Gryffindor. He demonstrated it by going out of his way to provoke any Slytherin he could. He found that Severus had a temper and that he could taunt him into losing it."

"I don't think Black really got under Severus' skin until after the deaths of his parents. It was a real fourteen day wonder in _The Daily Prophet_. Not only did the poor kid have to deal with losing both of his parents in such an awful way, but _The Prophet_ was determined to dig up every bit of dirt they could find. It all came out about his mother having a lover and that the post-mortem showed that she'd probably been beaten for years before she decided to leave Julian Snape. Severus was required to testify before the Wizengamot about what he knew, which was just dreadful. All of that, plus having the reporters sniffing around, meant Severus was a mess. All of us Slytherins protected him as much as we could, but it wasn't enough.

"I'm not one to say anything good about Lucius Malfoy," continues Jean, rather snarkily, "But he did look out for Severus. There was talk that Severus was going to have to go to an orphanage during the summer holidays. Lucius talked his father into getting one of their cousins to take guardianship so that wouldn't happen. Severus won't talk about it, but I think he spent his summers in a moldy old house out in the country with a guardian who was well over a hundred years old and didn't give a fig about the twelve year old he'd been saddled with."

"From then on, his clothes and books were all second hand. I guess he had to stretch out whatever money was left from his parents so he'd have enough to finish school. That's when things with Potter and Black got really nasty. Black would mock Severus mercilessly. I don't know for certain, but I think Severus must have come close to crying, because that's when the _Snivellus_ stuff started."

"When Lucius heard Black call Severus that, he was livid. I don't know what Lucius did to him or threatened him with, but Black backed off. Everybody knew that you did not mess with Lucius Malfoy. The Marauders toned down their attacks on Severus. They didn't get bad again until the year after Lucius left. I was a seventh year, then. I taught Severus some spells I'd learned from my big brothers, who were both Aurors. He did pretty well with holding his own when he encountered Black or Potter on their own. It was when they ganged up on him that there were real problems.

"After one particularly bad incident that was talked about all over the school, Severus made a point of hanging out with the guys who ended up as Death Eaters. I'm guessing that Lucius had been recruited by then and was passing on the favor." Jean drops her spoon into the empty parfait glass with a clink and picks up her coffee.

"Albus Dumbledore deserves to be hexed with Bottomless Butticular Boils for allowing the Marauders to get away with the things that they did," declares Jean, clearly not joking. "They were a gang. Potter and Black were bullies. Lupin was a follower and didn't dare confront them, because Potter was his alpha and Black was Number Two in the pack. Pettigrew didn't count for much. He's the kind who follows whoever he perceives to be the strongest person around."

"When a gang is after you and the adults don't stop it," says Jean, "The only real protection against them is to join another gang. That's what Severus did and it is Albus Dumbledore's fault."

"I used to worship the Headmaster," I admit. "I haven't for quite a while."

"Good," says Jean. "He doesn't deserve it." She looks at me, curiously. "Has Harry cornered him, yet?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "He says Professor Dumbledore is avoiding him."

"No surprise, there," says Jean, with an emphatic sniff. "One of the things I've learned about Albus Dumbledore is that he is big on other people making sacrifices, while he rests on his laurels from having defeated Grindelwald."

Our conversation is interrupted by the glow from the door of the transportation room. It looks like the members of our team have started to arrive.

* * *

"We have applied fourteen of Morimoto's Temporal Factors to the formula for Happy-Sleepy," I announce, standing at the front of the classroom.

Jean is sitting in the middle of the classroom, operating the computer. Professor Ben Ari hooked it up to a special projector that sends the image of whatever is on the computer screen onto a huge white screen that hangs from the ceiling.

"By doing so, we have been able to eliminate eleven of the factors," says Jean. "That leaves us with three that are relevant to our problem."

George and Fred are sitting on either side of Jean, watching her operate the computer. They are actually being quiet and well-behaved. I don't know if Jean threatened them with something, but I wouldn't put it past her. Harry is sitting in front of George and turned around to ask Jean a question that I can't hear.

Bill and Remus are sitting in the front row. Bill is rather blasé about the Muggle technology we're using. Remus is trying to look unimpressed, but it isn't working. Every time we demonstrate some bit of technology that he hasn't seen before, he looks mystified. Ellen is sitting next to Professor Boch, pointing at the screen and talking quietly. Whatever she is saying, Limnoreia seems to be disagreeing and is shaking her head.

"According to our analysis, Temporal Principals Thirteen, Nineteen, and Twenty-Three apply," I continue. "Thirteen has to do with how the timing charms adhere to the firebladder extract. Nineteen seems to be related to the composition of the glass of the orb. In working with Professors Ben Ari and Boch, we think we are close to nailing that one down. It seems to be related to the size of the pockets holding the copper infused into the glass. Twenty-three has to do with the interaction of the residual magic of the previous timing charm and the charm that dissipates the shield ninety seconds after it is cast, while neutralizing the fire bladder mist."

"While we're getting everybody accustomed to all of this technology," offers Bill, "Why don't we start with Temporal Principal Nineteen? If we're close, maybe we can figure out that one first."

"Good suggestion," says Professor Ben Ari.

* * *

"We've made holes of that size in chocolate coatings," says George. Fred is nodding in agreement.

We are taking a short break and most of the group has headed for the loo or are following Professor Ben Ari, who has promised coffee or cold drinks. A few of us are hanging back.

"You have made 8 nanometer holes in chocolate?" questions Professor Boch. Professor Ben Ari crosses her arms and looks skeptical.

"We call them itty-bitty, extra-tiny holes," says Fred, tugging on his earlobe. "I can guarantee that they are absolutely uniform in size or they wouldn't properly hold the timing charms in the Grotesquely Gurgling Guts Vanilla Creams in the Skiving Snackbox."

Ellen looks displeased.

"You're serious?" emphasizes Professor Boch. "You have actually done this? You aren't exaggerating?"

"Gerhardt," says Bill, "I know these two characters. They've done it. You have no idea the lengths that they will go to, or how hard they will work, to create a new Skiving Sweet."

"We make enough money from our Snackboxes to pay a good portion of our overheads," says George, proudly.

"Do you have any idea how terrible it is that you are selling those to children?" says an irate Ellen. "You may have worked out the contents so that a sixteen year old will bloat up and pass particularly noxious wind for fifteen minutes, but imagine if a particularly small ten year old gets into it? Or worse, eats two or three of the things? Explosive diarrhea could be the least of his problems. What if an angry older sibling feeds one to his three year old sister?"

"We put age-detection charms on all of the Skiving Sweets," George says. "Right in the small print on the back of the box, it says that as soon as any of the sweets are touched by anyone under the age of twelve, the magic will dissipate and all that will be left is the sweet. Even if the first touch is the kid's tongue, it will neutralize all the magic. Besides, we don't sell those to anybody under the age of fourteen."

"We used to sell those to kids who were younger, but we decided that it wasn't safe. As an extra safeguard," adds Fred, "we have weight detection magic on each one that is triggered as soon as it touches the tongue. It adjusts the overall magic based on the weight of the consumer."

"Even if the pet crup gets into it, the age detection and weight charms on each piece would neutralize all of the magic," says George, proudly. "The dog might get diarrhea, but it would be because dogs shouldn't eat vanilla creams."

"We have a Potions Master on retainer," says Fred.

"Nudge, nudge, wink, wink," says George, slyly.

"He checks all of our formulations and products before they go on the market," continues Fred. "Nothing goes out unless he is satisfied with the product's overall safety and that we have the necessary protections built in. Believe me, he's more critical than you are. We had to rework a lot of our Skiving Sweets when he started checking our stuff.

"I shall have to chat with Mr. Wink Wink," says Ellen, dryly. "I had better be satisfied with what he tells me or I am coming after both of you."

I'm not sure what Ellen is threatening them with, but she is making it sound like dire consequences will be delivered. I must ask Severus about his consulting contract.

"What about making holes in the chocolate?" says Professor Boch. "I want proof before we accept that your methodology might apply to glass."

"I can Portkey back to the shop and get some to show you," declares Fred, sounding like he's ready to take on all comers. "Or we can get some chocolate out of that machine in the lounge and I'll demonstrate. I could do the wand movements in my sleep."

"I want a demonstration and I will measure the holes," declares Professor Boch.

Bill looks at his brothers. "Follow me," he says, heading towards the classroom door as he pulls American coins out of his pocket. "I'll show you how to work a Muggle vending machine."

George and Fred follow him eagerly. I wonder if any of those coins will actually end up in the vending machine or if the twins will figure out how to spirit the Hershey bars out of it?

Professor Boch sits back down in his chair with a grunt and looks at me.

"Please tell me those two aren't even tempted to go over to the Dark Side?"

I burst out laughing.

* * *

Jean and I are copying his wand movements as Fred takes us through them in slow motion. I can see why the diagram in my book on magical glass making was so confusing. There are a lot of small incremental moves that essentially make the holes we are going to build into the glass smaller and smaller. It takes twelve repetitions of those tiny motions to get holes that are between six and eight nanometers in size.

Professor Boch smiles beatifically at Fred as he tosses a small ball of chocolate into his mouth.

Tomorrow, Jean and I will practice on glass.

* * *

"Temporal Factor Twenty-Three is relevant because of the surface density of the shield that has to be projected around the smoke and mist of Happy-Sleepy," says Limnoreia, borrowing the laser pointer from me so she can highlight the applicable parts of the formula. "Any time we have this kind of warding to do, we build the charms in layers to cover fifteen second intervals up to the required time limit. I also suggest that we look at applying the charms to the inside layer of the orb, rather than the outside. The density of the projected shield will be more consistent."

"Won't that interfere with the neutralizing charm?" asks Bill. "We want the Happy-Sleepy to be neutralized before the shield goes down, otherwise we risk exposing our own people."

Limnoreia doesn't get a chance to answer before the classroom door opens and Draco comes in, hovering a box that I hope contains food. Much to my astonishment, Mr. Schuler is following after him.

"Hi, everybody," Draco calls out. "I've got lunch here." Draco sets the box down on the desk at the front of the room.

"Hi, Daniel. Where's Roger?" asks Professor Ben Ari. "We're debating some Charms issues and need his input."

"He was right behind us, but stopped to deal with a mass escape of toads from the Transfiguration classroom down the hall," says Mr. Schuler.

"Oh, no,' moans Limnoreia, covering her face with her hands, "Not again. Not now."

"Toads?" asks Harry, walking to the door. Mr. Schuler steps back to let him by, a look of recognition on his face.

Harry leans out the door and looks down the hallway. "Merlin's toenails! How in the world did all those get loose?" Harry steps back as two toads hop past him.

The rest of us are rather caught up in the fascination of watching what appears to be dozens of toads, hopping into the classroom and making straight towards Limnoreia, who is now standing on her chair. The two toads who arrived first are attempting to hop up the legs of the chair to try and get to her.

"Is there any chance that I could get some help with this mess?" It sounds like Professor Littlehorse is yelling from down the hallway. He sounds a little desperate.

That seems to mobilize everyone, except for Mr. Schuler, who scrambles to get out of everyone else's way. He stands in front of the screen, studying the formula.

Before long, the toads are being hovered into boxes transfigured from pieces of paper from Limnoreia's notepad. From there, the floating boxes were taken down the hallway to the Transfiguration classroom. The twins took care of transfiguring the lids to the toad tanks so that they won't come off unless a human hand touches them. Our best guess was that the toads kept jumping against the lids until they came off. We Scourgify the floor of the classroom and down the hallway to the auditorium-sized classroom we are using.

I insist that Harry and the twins wash their hands in the loo, using real soap and water.

By the time we get back to the classroom, it appears that introductions have been made and lunch started. Draco is passing around the food.

"Potter," says Draco with a casual nod.

"Malfoy," replies Harry, equally casual.

Good. We hadn't discussed it, but it looks like everyone is going to be polite for the duration.

We grab our sandwiches and crisps and join the others who are sitting in the chairs around Limnoreia.

"I heard arguing between two of the girls who had just left my class," says Limnoreia, with a much put-upon sigh. "I stepped out into the hallway with the intention of breaking it up. As I did, they cast at each other and I got hit by both jinxes. Not only that, but a student was down at the far end of the hallway casting a summoning charm for his missing pet toad."

"What were the jinxes?" asks Professor Littlehorse, solicitously.

"The first was Unrequited Love and the second was Ranting Bitch," replies Limnoreia, looking distinctly unhappy. "The two girls were arguing over a boy."

"Combined with a toad summoning charm," comments Professor Littlehorse, pensively. "No wonder you still have problems."

Snickers are being hidden behind hands or squelched. Everyone who can manage it is looking properly sympathetic.

"We did figure out how to remove part of the effect," says Limnoreia. "For the first twenty-four hours, I attracted every familiar in the castle. Boys who had passed puberty were lined up outside my office door. A few girls were there, too. It was humiliating."

Jean is mumbling something to Bill about Trelawney that I can't quite hear. Bill starts laughing behind his hand.

"Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore couldn't fix it?" asks Harry.

"The issue would be the interaction between the two hexes and the summoning charm," says Professor Littlehorse. "It would pose a fascinating problem."

"Fascinating at an intellectual level," retorts Limnoreia. "When you're the one living with it, it is a whole different thing."

"Are you summoning the toads or are the toads being attracted through Unrequited Love?" asks Professor Littlehorse.

"Filius Flitwick was able to remove the Ranting Bitch jinx after about twenty-four hours," says Limnoreia. "I stopped ranting at everyone, but it left me feeling cranky. It turns out that they should have tried to remove the Unrequited Love jinx first."

"Ranting Bitch tends to leave a bit of a hook behind, especially when it is removed instead of letting it wear off," says Ellen. "I'll bet they couldn't get all of the Unrequited Love because of it."

"That's a big part of it," says Limnoreia.

"I would guess that the toad summoning charm warped when the hook from Ranting Bitch was left behind," says Professor Littlehorse, resting his head on his knuckles and looking intrigued.

"I've been to a lot of very good people trying to get the last of this removed," says Limnoreia. "Ellen has been keeping an eye out for any new developments that can fix the botched removal of the two jinxes."

"I'll keep trying,' says Ellen, sympathetically. "That hook is especially dangerous because it latches onto the individual's magical core. Removing the hook could result in removing a chunk of your magic with it."

"I'd prefer not to become a Squib in exchange for freedom from adoring toads," says Limnoreia, looking despairingly at her sandwich.

"Would you object to my looking into it?" asks Professor Littlehorse. "I might be able to come up with a possibility or two."

Limnoreia brightens up considerably. "Please," she says, "Go right ahead."

* * *

Daniel Schuler pushes back the Cubs baseball cap he is wearing so that the brim is out of the way as he examines the formula for the Happy-Sleepy potion on the screen.

"Our goal is to take the fire bladder extract and turn it into a mist that can be inhaled and absorbed through the skin," I explain. "To do that, the team determined that we had to Transfigure the fire bladder extract into a solid. The next steps were to turn it into a liquid and then adjust the density of the liquid so that it would be turned into a mist. I've incorporated all eleven steps into the formula."

"The tricky part of that was getting the droplets small enough so that they could be inhaled without triggering a coughing response," says Ellen.

"Josepha and I have checked the formulation and it is correct," offers Professor Boch. "We agree that there isn't any other way to get the droplets to a size where it could be inhaled and move through the bronchiole airways into the alveoli and from there into the bloodstream."

"I believe I already said that," sniffs Ellen.

I agree with Ellen. She's a Healer and doesn't need to be second-guessed. We've already checked and triple checked each other's work.

"I see what you're getting at," says Mr. Schuler. He turns to Draco, who has taken over the computer. "Go ahead and run the computer simulation on the question of whether or not an additional step is needed between the second and third steps in the liquid conversion."

Jean is using a laser pointer to track each symbol as it appears on the wall. She and Remus are verifying each part of the formula for accuracy.

"You transposed the delta and the swish symbols for the wand movement," calls out Remus.

"Good catch," says Draco, making the correction. He types in more symbols and numbers.

"I can see real advantages to this," says Fred, waving in the general direction of the computer.

"We could speed up the process of product development considerably," comments George.

"Yeah," says Harry. "All it would take is seventy thousand galleons to buy one."

"Bloody…" says Fred.

"Hell…" says George.

"Plus hire someone who knows Arithmancy…" says Fred.

"A whole lot better than we do," says George. "Maybe Draco would be available."

"I'm going to run the calculation now," calls Draco, with an emphatic mouse click and a glare at the twins.

We all stand and watch as the time turner symbol spins to indicate that the calculations are taking place. It stops spinning and numbers and symbols appear.

"There's our first problem," announces Mr. Schuler, picking up a laser pointer. The bright red spot appears in the middle of symbol I've never seen before.

"What is that?" asks Limnoreia, sitting at the third row lab table, taking notes.

"That is Tante Katja's _You're Missing a Factor Here _symbol," says Mr. Schuler, lifting his Cubs cap and scratching his scalp underneath it.

"Tante Katja?" asks Jean. "I don't recollect an Arithmancer by that name.

"You wouldn't know of her," replies Mr. Schuler, shaking his head. "She never published any of her work. Kept it all in the family."

Mr. Schuler walks around behind Draco and looks down at the screen, chewing his lower lip in thought.

"Pull up the detailed formulation for the magic applied to steps one and two in the solid to liquid conversion," he instructs. Draco taps keys and the screen changes to show the details of the magical process.

"Okay, Potions experts," says Mr. Schuler, "I need to know all of the extraneous factors that might possibly impact on the magic applied in step one."

* * *

"Have you talked to Dumbledore, yet?" I ask Harry, as I take the lid off of my chai tea. It is too hot to drink and I want it to cool off.

"No," says Harry, twisting the cap off of his Coke. "He's deliberately staying away from headquarters and he knows I won't come to Hogwarts."

"You might have to beard the lion in his den," I suggest. "He managed to avoid you practically all of fifth year and we were all living in the castle."

"It is just like re-enacting fifth year," snorts Harry, "Except he's managed to put good-sized chunks of England and Scotland between us."

I reach over and give Harry's hand an encouraging squeeze.

"When I was a kid," says Harry, in response, "I used to have daydreams that one of my parents somehow miraculously survived, but had amnesia. My Mum or Dad would show up at the Dursleys and take me away from them. Or that another relative heard about me and always wanted a son, so they came and got me. My favorite and most frustrating fantasy was that somebody really wanted me, somewhere."

"There was someone," I reply softly. My heart just breaks for Harry, thinking about him being an unwanted little boy. "Sirius wanted you."

"Yeah," sighs Harry. "Too little, too late."

All I can do is nod.

"I'm a grown-up now and an apprentice Auror," says Harry, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. "I know enough about magical and Muggle law to understand that what the Dursley's did to me meets the legal definitions of neglect and cruelty. In either world, if child welfare people had known what was happening to me, I would have been taken away from the Dursleys. I'll admit, I didn't tell the people in authority what was happening to me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I wondered what I had done wrong to deserve it."

It looks like Harry is wrestling with whether or not to say more.

"Dumbledore knew," says Harry. "All the signs were there for anyone who had any experience with children. Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and even Professor Snape knew. They left me there because Dumbledore told them I had to stay. The protection given to me by my mother's sacrifice would only last if I was living with a blood relative and my aunt was pretty much the only one left."

"They didn't have any reason to doubt what the Headmaster told them," I reply.

"No," says Harry, shaking his head. "Dumbledore didn't leave others much room to doubt or disobey his instructions. I believed him, too."

"Do you plan to confront him?" I ask.

"I won't go out of my way to do it, now," says Harry, frowning. "If the opportunity arises, I probably won't be able to restrain myself. If Dumbledore stays away, I won't go looking for him. I'll wait until after the 21st."

"It might be easier for the Order if there isn't a complete split between you and Dumbledore before the battle," I remark.

"That's what I'm thinking," says Harry.

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
Hermione to Severus

We're looking at breaking down the seventh step in the Transfiguration of the fire bladder extract into two steps. Let's call them 7.A and 7.B., following Hiram's Theorem of Simultaneous Interdimensional Interactions. Professor Ben Ari thinks that if we apply a second density charm at 7.B, we may be able to improve the timing on projecting the containment field so it will vary no more than one second either way.

_Hold on. I will ask Minerva to join us._

_Minerva is here and I have asked her. She says that if a second density charm is added at 7.B, it may interact with the charm that is needed at step 9 to convert the fire bladder extract into the first level mist._

We're going to run a simulation at this end, if you can hold on for about five minutes.

_We shall stand by._

Okay. The simulation shows the interference that Minerva spoke of. Does she have any ideas of where else we could attach the timing charm?

_Minerva and I are going to need to refer to our diagram. Hold on._

_Minerva and I believe that Flemming's Corollary applies. We suggest running a simulation that moves the new density charm to step 4. Adding it to the solid before it reaches third stage should prevent a breakdown of the molecular composition that could happen at either stages two or four._

Let me talk to the group.

We're running a simulation.

_How are things progressing?_

We're making a lot of progress. We think we've nailed down how to get the pockets for the copper in the glass down to six to eight nanometers. Believe it or not, the twins have been using pockets that size in the chocolate coatings of their Skiving Sweets.

_You did not know that?_

Oh, that's right. You've been their consultant, so you'd know that already. Hold on. It looks like we've got results.

Your suggestion looks like it will work. Everyone says "thanks".

_You are welcome._

Since no one can actually read this except for you and me, I'm sending you a big kiss. Can't wait to see you in person.

_Same here. I will continue to stand by._

* * *

"The composition of the cauldron used for brewing," offers Professor Boch.

"The stirrer," add Professor Ben Ari.

"Moon phase," comments Remus.

"Numerology of the ingredients," says George.

"We already accounted for that," I reply.

"Let's substitute one of these and see how close we are already," says Mr. Schuler.

"Replace the Pyrex cauldron with copper," suggests Professor Ben Ari.

I swear, she is bound and determined that we are going to use a copper cauldron even if it makes the rest of the potion ineffective.

"Substitute CU for the value of the glass in the cauldron," I tell Draco.

Mr. Schuler watches the screen projection on the wall as the numbers and symbols reform.

"That's an interesting result," says Professor Boch.

"I suppose I was wrong about using a copper cauldron," says Professor Ben Ari, sounding rather huffy about it. "The copper cauldron interacts with the fire bladder extract sufficiently to make it impossible to apply a timing charm with anything less than a twenty second delay and we need a three second delay."

"All right," says Mr. Schuler. "We scratch copper cauldrons off of the list." He turns to me. "Hermione, did you run a projection to show the best cauldron for processing the fire bladder extract?"

"I did," I reply. "It's in the folder labeled _Cauldrons_."

Draco looks for the file and brings it up on the screen.

"Does this look correct to all of you?" There are nods all around.

"Lets assume that the cauldron is correct," says Mr. Schuler. "Mr. Lupin suggested that we look at moon phase. Draco, could you pull up the formula that showed the magical applications and have it run all of the moon phases to see what it does?"

"Got it," he says as the formula appears on the screen. "I'll have it import the symbols from the lunar calendar and run them in order." Draco's fingers fly across the keyboard, which appears to have impressed Harry and the twins.

The spinning time turner is back. When it stops, a series of symbols appear across the screen.

"Whoa," says Mr. Schuler. "We've got something here."

I don't recognize three of the symbols that appear on the screen.

"Wait a minute," says Jean, sounding confused. "What in the world are those symbols?" She points the laser beam at the same three symbols that I didn't recognize.

"I can't tell you," says Mr. Schuler, in a teasing voice. "They're a trade secret. I can interpret some of it for you. For starters, moon phase makes a critical difference as to how this potion turns out." He moves his laser pointer to the symbol for the full moon. "The fire bladder extract will not hold a timing charm at all, if it is processed during a full moon." The laser pointer moves down two lines. "It will hold it perfectly, if it is made during the new moon."

"And everything in degrees in between?" asks Remus, looking as if something has just occurred to him. He looks at me and I realize we are thinking of the same thing. Remus looks back up at the screen.

"Does it make any difference if a werewolf did the Transfiguration of the fire bladder extract?" he asks.

"From what I see here," says Professor Boch, "It is a possibility. Can we run the equation with that as a factor?"

Mr. Schuler walks over to Draco and gives him instructions about how to factor that in.

"When is the next new moon?" I ask Remus, knowing that he keeps a lunar calendar in his head.

"June 13th," replies Remus, quietly. "If my being a werewolf is not the problem, we can still make the weapon work by processing all of the fire bladder extract next Sunday."

* * *

As I look around the room, everyone is looking pretty much worn out. It is 6:30 pm, which means it is after midnight in Scotland.

Correction. Limnoreia and Professor Littlehorse are sitting at the back of the classroom, talking in a rather animated way.

Fred and George are sitting in front of me. I think Fred has dozed off.

Mr. Schuler is bent over the desk at the front of the room. He is writing out what we hope is the final version of the formula for the Happy-Sleepy orbs. None of us can help with that. The entire formula has to be written out by hand by the person who is going to run the magic.

Harry is actually sitting next to Draco, who has been showing him different functions on the computer. At the moment, Harry is learning how to play Tetris.

Jean and Ellen are sitting on either side of Remus, who is looking seriously depressed right about now. It has not done his ego any good to learn that the problem with the containment fields and timing charms is due to the fact that a werewolf did the Transfiguration on the fire bladder extract during a waning moon.

When Mr. Schuler runs the magic on our equation, it should show that our potion and delivery system will work together flawlessly. It will mean that we can start producing as many Happy-Sleepy orbs as we can get the supplies for. The others have to go home to keep anyone from suspecting that something is going on, but Jean and I can start right away. Draco has offered his afternoons, since he is working with Professor Littlehorse in the mornings. I think Professors Boch and Ben Ari will help, too.

The scratching at the front of the room stops.

"I'm ready," says Mr. Schuler.

We all stop what we're doing or not doing, as the case may be. We gather around the table.

I've never seen Mr. Schuler with a wand.

It sounds like he is incanting in German.

The numbers and symbols on the paper turn into a whirling pool of ink and light before they reform into recognizable patterns.

Mr. Schuler adjusts his eyeglasses and peruses the paper along with the rest of us.

"Witches and wizards," he says. "I believe we have it."

* * *

Author's notes

I have been very fortunate in my readers. Your words of encouragement, suggestions, and constructive criticism have made this a better story and me a much better writer. I don't know which of my readers nominated _Looking for Magic_ for a best work in progress award over at Moste Potente Potions, but I would like to thank you. I'm astonished and delighted to have been given the honor of a nomination.

There are regular readers who have been nominated, too. Jocemum, Annie Talbot, Lady Rhian, and Ariadne are enjoying their own nominations. If you are an SS/HG fan and you haven't read their work, you are depriving yourself of a treat. I suggest you go over to site and work your way through the nominated fics. There's not a stinker in the bunch.

h t t p: / / c o m m u n I t y . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / s s h g a w a r d s / 1 4 1 7 7 . h t m l # c u t i d 1

Oscarxena suggested that Daniel Schuler would be a Cubs fan. I agree. Having a wizarding billionaire buy them might be the Cubs' best chance for winning the American baseball World Series.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Truly Amused, Wind of Freedom, Persevero, Oscarxena, Keske, Princessfiona, Morethansirius, Laurenke1, MMADfan, Darque Hart, Erytha, Kcole, Excessivelyperky, Sunsethill, Sylphides, Salazors, Yapyap, KGdiva, KimJo, CharmedForce, Droxy, T wrecks, Jocemum, Kirien, Keske, o0morgana0o, Lipasnape, GiggleGinny, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Blue artemis, Notwritten (who has good advice for those with colds), MysticSong1978, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Martyjeannine, Puella Deorum, Marble Meadow, Jade2099, Duj, Sarah, T, Andi-Scribbles, Squeaker19450, Wynnleaf, Demmons1399, and Phoenix's Feather.


	95. Chapter 95

I don't own it and don't plan to publish a Lexicon, either.

Thank you to Julia who went through this chapter before she went on vacation. Did you know that Katyes has translated 85 chapters of Looking for Magic into German. She's found a particularly dreamy boyfriend, too.

* * *

June 9th, 1999  
Countdown: 11 days, 8 hours, and 10 minutes until sunset on June 21st

* * *

E-mail Communication

To: Daniel Schuler: Digitalmage at a w l . com  
From: Roger Littlehorse: Littlehorse at a w l . c o m  
Date: June 9th, 1999

We are making steady progress with Draco's Animagus training. He's catching on faster than I anticipated. Being highly motivated by the threat to his family is probably the reason behind it. Still, I have my doubts that he can achieve the transformation in time for the battle on the 21st.

Ms. Lovegood and I have been working on the toad attraction problem you saw a few days ago. We've also been discussing what to do about the wards, if Voldemort uses a human sacrifice to set them. It seems that the Order has a member with a terminal disease who is willing to commit suicide at the battle site to bring them down.

There is my alternative, but I have not tested it for obvious reasons. The most recent use of this means to break sacrificial wards was over four hundred years ago by Keezheekoni of the Cheyenne. There is no way to know if the legends are true. After Saturday night, I will discuss it with the Order.

Yes, Limnoreia is an intriguing woman. And that odd character who was around a few years ago looking for Crumple Horned Snorkacks is a cousin. A distant cousin. A very distant cousin. I don't think I'll bring up the subject to her again.

Draco should be here shortly, so it's back to work time.

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
June 9, 1999  
Jean Lamb to Albus Dumbledore

Albus,

We are making steady progress on manufacturing the Happy-Sleepy orbs. The four of us will be able to produce the glass orbs in sufficient quantity for our needs. Gerhardt is handling the cocaine and Draco is actually the best at making the copper infused glass.

If Charlie Weasley can get us more of the fire bladder extract, it would help immensely. We project that we can produce 29 Happy-Sleepy orbs with the amount we have on hand. Anticipating that we will have 24 flyers, we will only be able to give one to each flyer with a few extras for re-supply. That assumes we have no waste or flawed orbs that cannot be used.

I think we would all feel more comfortable if we had extras.

Please let Severus know that we will have four practice orbs for each of the flyers who will be coming on Saturday. Hermione and Draco designed them so that they work exactly like Happy-Sleepy orbs. When broken against the target, they will cast up a smoke and mist that looks like Happy-Sleepy and contain it for ninety seconds. This should give each of our flyers sufficient practice for the real thing.

Hermione said that there will be a Strategy Committee meeting tonight at headquarters. Let me know if I am needed. I can Portkey back in time for it.

Jean

* * *

Owl Message  
June 9th, 1999  
Chester Sommersby to Albus Dumbledore

Albus,

I shall be there this evening, so feel free to remain at Hogwarts. I agree that Severus and Bill need to be present. The team will understand if you cannot be spared along with them, given N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s are in progress.

Chester

* * *

Paired Journal Entry  
June 9th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus

I am looking forward to seeing you on Saturday. Is there any chance you could stay the night? Jean and her husband are going to stay in one of the other apartments that we are setting up for anyone who is too tired to go back to Britain after the training session.

I really do like Jean. She's funny and great to talk to. Even Draco has loosened up around her.

Everything is really coming together with the orbs. We have nine of them made, as of last night. Between Draco, Jean, Gerhardt, and myself, we've worked out a sort of assembly line.

I am now on a first name basis with Professor Boch, until term begins again.

Gerhardt processes all of the crack cocaine. Jean does the first five steps of the Transfiguration of the fire bladder extract. I do the final six steps and insert it, and the crack cocaine into the orbs, which Draco makes. Now that we have a system worked out, we can produce five orbs in a day. We have enough of the fire bladder extract to make twenty-nine orbs.

Jean is asking Albus to get us more of the fire bladder extract so we can make extras. We'll have enough to supply each of the twenty-four flyers with an orb, but it doesn't leave much to spare. Plus, we have to get enough processed to keep the Dark Lord incapacitated after we capture him.

Will the Strategy Committee have any discussion about where we will put the Dark Lord after we catch him? The Ministry won't be ready to take custody. We need to have a cell set up that can infuse Happy-Sleepy into the air.

Draco is getting the practice orbs ready for the training on Saturday. He's really looking forward to it. He's hoping for a chance to duel Harry. And Bill. And you. I think he'd happily duel just about everyone to work off some of his anxiety.

Speaking of which, Draco is at the door hollering that it's time to leave.

I'll write more later. Love you.

Hermione

* * *

Severus  
Noon

I meet Minerva at the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Our charges proceed up the revolving staircase ahead of us. The five of us walk into Albus' office where I see Miss Tonks and apprentice Auror Harry Potter are waiting for us. Minerva directs her two seventh years into chairs. I instruct my seventh year to sit down in the third chair and take my place behind her.

There is no twinkle in Albus' Dumbledore's eyes, today. I wonder if it is because of the seriousness of the charges against our students or that Harry Potter is standing in his office.

Miss Tonks takes charge and does so with surprising authority.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape," she says, nodding her head in greeting. "I assume that these three are the students I asked to see."

"They are," says Minerva, sounding grim. "These two are Elliott Ward and Desdemona Seldon, Gryffindor seventh years.

"Katherine Earl, Slytherin seventh year," I state, with a nod at the girl sitting in front of me.

Minerva's students are looking rather nervous. Under the circumstances, they should. My Slytherin is keeping her Slytherin face on, which pleases me. However, knowing Miss Earl, I am confident she is guilty as sin.

"Normally," says Miss Tonks, "We would question the three of you separately. However, your compatriots have already confessed and identified each of you. We also have testimony from two witnesses who overheard the lot of you planning one of your little excursions into the Muggle world. You can save us all a lot of time by simply admitting what you did."

Desdemona Seldon speaks first.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, her voice cracking.

"Mr. Potter?" asks Tonks.

Potter looks surprisingly mature in his apprentice Auror's uniform. He steps forward and removes a parchment from the pocket of his robes. Unfolding the parchment, Potter begins to recite a list.

"All of these are from 1998: 12th August: Stanton St. Bernard. A circle with a rectangle inside. 9th August: West Woods. Multiple interlocking circles, surrounding central rings. 4th August: Pewsey White Horse. Circles surrounding a nine pointed star. 1st August: Sugar Hill. Hexagons in a circular design surrounded by four rows of triangles. 7th July: Chute Causeway. Large fractal design made of multiple five pointed stars."

The litany is interrupted by Miss Tonks.

"Need we continue?" she asks, pointedly. "We have eighteen in Wiltshire that we could list for you."

"I didn't have anything to do with those crop circles," stutters Miss Seldon.

Gryffindors. You might as well have handed the Aurors a signed confession.

"Really," says Miss Tonks, tapping her wand on the palm of her hand, "I don't remember Potter mentioning crop circles."

Albus steps around to the front.

"According to what Aurors Tonks and Potter have already told me," says Albus, looking down at our three ne'er do wells, "They have plenty of evidence to convict you already. I can tell you that as a member of the Wizengamot, your hearing will go better if you will admit what you have done. The three of you were underage at the time, so the juvenile penalties will apply."

"The Headmaster is giving you good advice," says Miss Tonks. "We know that you borrowed heirloom wands so that the Underage Magic Detector wouldn't spot you. We have witnesses from your meeting at the Leaky Cauldron. Bridewell, Prescott, Christopher, and MacGregor have confessed and ratted you out. Denial won't get you anywhere."

"I want my parents here," says Ward.

"You're legally adults, now," declares Miss Tonks. "You don't have the right to demand that. When we take you to the Ministry, you may owl them. You have the right to a solicitor."

"What about our N.E.W.T.s?" demands Miss Earl.

"You will probably have the opportunity to apply for bail," says Potter. "If the Headmaster allows you to return, you can probably come back tomorrow."

Minerva and I have played this game before. Since she has just tapped her nose, Minerva wishes to reverse our usual roles.

"Under the circumstances," I state, sounding like the voice of sweet reason, "I think it would be wise to allow them to return and finish their scheduled N.E.W.T.s. Regardless of whatever penalties are imposed on them, they will have to wait a year or until their sentence is served and sit them again. They will be unable to compete for apprenticeships or obtain gainful employment related to their N.E.W.T. scores without it."

"And there is a reason we should care about that?" says Minerva, scornfully. "They do not seem to understand the seriousness of what they have done." She comes around and stands in front of her two Gryffindors, her arms akimbo. She looks exceedingly stern, even for Minerva. "Do you realize that your friends are probably going to Azkaban? Your prank put the wizarding world at risk of exposure."

"Professor McGonagall is entirely correct about that," says Albus, grimly. "The Ministry has managed to convince many in the Muggle world that little grey men from other planets are responsible for crop circles. If not for that, those same Muggles might be thinking that magic is real. You have created a lot of work for the Ministry in covering up your antics."

My Slytherin reacts to that in a surprisingly animated way.

"These aren't antics," declares Miss Earl, passionately. "This is art work. We are artists working with organic materials. Those plebeians at the Ministry will never understand," she sniffs.

"These aren't pranks," says Mr. Ward, with a pleading gesture. "We create living sculptures that deserve to be seen by the world. This is our mission," he says emphatically.

"Besides," says Miss Seldon, "We are carrying on a tradition." She looks pleadingly at Potter. "Even your father and his friends did this."

"Bringing up my father's misdeeds isn't going to get you anywhere," Potter retorts, crossing his arms. "He did plenty of things I'm not proud of. You don't know me as well as you think if you believe that will influence me."

That is an interesting admission.

"I take it that the three of you are admitting to having created these eighteen crop circles in Wiltshire last summer?" asks Miss Tonks.

Our miscreants nod, even if reluctantly so. Miss Earl looks up at me.

"Please, Professor Snape," she says, holding onto some semblance of dignity, "Let us come back tomorrow and complete our N.E.W.T.s."

"It is the Headmaster's decision to make," I reply, in a tone that is not quite but almost kind. "However, I do believe consideration should be given to the fact that you were sixteen years old when you engaged in this behavior. You do understand that you will have to find another means to express your desire to create art so that it is not seen by Muggles?"

"I know, sir," says Miss Earl, dejectedly. "Our crop circle days are over."

"It is up to you, Albus," says Minerva, shaking her head.

"Assuming these three give you full cooperation," says Albus, sternly, "They may return tomorrow to finish their N.E.W.T.s. Each of you will have detention every evening with Professor Binns, who will monitor you to ensure that your time is spent studying for your remaining N.E.W.T.s. and final examinations. You will forfeit attendance at the Leaving Feast.

"Do I make myself understood?" asks Albus.

A chorus of "Yes, sirs," is heard.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," says Miss Tonks. "I'll take these three through to the Ministry."

In short order, Miss Tonks has departed with the three aspiring organic artists. It appears that Potter has something to say to Albus before he leaves.

"Professor Dumbledore, you and I need to talk," says Potter, in tones that invite no disagreement.

Albus looks resignedly at Minerva and me. We move to leave.

"We need to talk," repeats Potter, just as strongly. "But, not now. We have too much at stake to air this thing out between us before the 21st. I want an appointment on the 22nd."

"Of course, Harry," says Albus, sadly.

"Thank you," says Potter. He turns to Minerva and me. "Thanks for your help. I didn't realize the two of you knew the Good Cop and Bad Cop routine." Potter smiles at us. "We'll get those three sorted out. It's a shame you didn't see those crop circles. They were amazing. I really liked the one with the fractals."

"Can we see the photographs?" asks Minerva.

"I'll owl them to you," says Potter. He tosses in the floo powder and disappears through the fireplace.

Albus sits down behind his desk and begins to sort through a stack of parchments. "I never cease to be amazed by the talents exhibited by our students. It is a shame that this crop circle business needs to be stopped to protect the wizarding world."

Minerva looks amused. "I have heard that the first crop circles were done by an unnamed group of Gryffindors over one hundred years ago."

"That might be true," says Albus, a twinkle in his eyes. "One hundred years ago, only flyers on brooms or Muggles in hot air balloons could have seen them. As I recall, they were concealed from the Muggle world. That is my only objection to what these youngsters did."

I suspect his real objection is that these new artists did not copy his designs.

* * *

Evening

I unroll the map that I prepared last night. Mark Smith takes one end and anchors it onto the dining room table with a sticking charm. Mike Lamb takes the other end and does likewise. Remus, Arthur, Bill, Moody, George, Potter, and Chester take positions around the table. Dobby is standing on one of the dining room chairs so that he can see the map.

My hand moves across the map, pointing out different aspects of the topography.

"Here is Malfoy Manor. The border of the property is clearly delineated by thick hedges that rim the perimeter. Towards the south end of the estate is the creek. You can see that it bisects the south meadow and flows through to the neighbor's property."

"Who owns the neighboring properties?" asks Mike.

"Wesley Hopewell owns the land to the south and east," I reply. "Astrid Bigglesworth owns the land to the north. Her daughter and son-in-law live in the house and farm the land. A Muggle family owns the land to the west and I do not recall their names."

"Steele," says Dobby, his right ear twitching. "Mr. and Mrs. Steele be farmers. They old, very old. Lucius Malfoy wait for them to die and want to buy land from children."

Arthur points at the land owned by the Hopewells. "Wes Hopewell stayed neutral during the last war. Anthony Bigglesworth was a Dark Lord sympathizer, but I don't know about Astrid."

"The Hopewells are the primary concern here," I comment. "I anticipate that the initiation will be on the south side of the estate. If you will take notice, there are wooded areas here and here. In the timber closest to the Manor, there are three small hills. The underbrush has been cut back on all of those hills so that they can be used as a park. Any of the hills could be the location for the initiation. There is always a bonfire, so our flyers should be able to locate it."

"There will be a half moon on the 21st and sunset should be at 9:20 pm," says Remus.

"The initiation will not start until full darkness," I explain. "My best estimate is that the initiation will start at 10:00 pm. The assault should begin about five minutes later. At that time, all of the Death Eaters except for the look-outs will be in the circle."

"Where will the bonfire be in relation to the circle?" asks Bill.

"Dobby, could you please bring me a parchment and a writing implement?" I request.

Dobby vanishes for a moment and then returns with parchment and a Muggle pencil in hand. I take the parchment and sketch out a typical initiation circle.

"When I say 'circle'," I begin, "I am referring to the Circle of Death Eaters, which is how the Dark Lord's marked followers refer to themselves. During the initiation ceremony, we form a half circle in front of the Dark Lord. He will have a throne on a dais with the bonfire behind him and to the side." I mark the spot with an 'X' and draw the half circle in front of that location. "When the ceremony begins, I will be outside of the circle with Draco Malfoy. We will be summoned inside the circle and will stand before the Dark Lord."

"How long does the ceremony take to complete?" asks Mike Lamb.

"One half hour to an hour," I reply. "It depends on whether or not the Dark Lord chooses to give a long sermon. I would guess that on this auspicious occasion, the Dark Lord will choose to exhort his followers. However, that does not offer much leeway. Within fifteen minutes of the start of the ceremony, Draco Malfoy will be marked. We want to prevent that from happening. The Dark Lord has claimed that the new Mark will cause Draco to be harmed if the Dark Lord is harmed."

"We don't want Draco Malfoy to end up bonded to the Dark Lord in some way," says Potter. "We need to start the attack early enough to disrupt the ceremony before it gets that far."

Good. Potter is setting aside old grudges for this. I was actually rather impressed with him earlier today when he decided not to push his confrontation with Albus until after this business is finished. Perhaps there is hope that he is growing up.

"What about wards on the Hopewell property?" asks Chester, pointing to the border of the Malfoy property. "We will want to use the area just south of hedge and closest to the timber as a staging area."

"I will check out the wards tomorrow," offers Remus.

"I'll help with that," says Mike.

"Where will we gather our forces?" asks Arthur.

"I have suggested to Albus that we distribute Portkeys to all of our troops and bring them to my property in Wales," says Chester. "Albus has been contacting Order members and allies going back to the Grindelwald conflict. He believes that we may have as many as sixty volunteers."

"I have no way of knowing exactly how many Death Eaters there are and how many will be present for the initiation," I comment. "The largest gathering of the Circle I have attended was about forty. I would anticipate that the most important Death Eaters will be there, given the initiation of the son of the Dark Lord's most favored lieutenant."

"So, we'll be facing his strongest forces," says Moody, sarcastically. "The ones that you and Lucius Malfoy were training earlier this year?"

"Possibly," I reply. "Those Death Eaters were relatively new and may not be influential enough to be invited to attend, unless they are assigned as look-outs."

"We're still going to be looking at the Lestranges and members of the inner circle," says Moody, scratching his chin.

"Unavoidable," comments Chester. "The Dark Lord is not going to conduct this initiation without his most loyal followers. I would estimate that we would have about thirty Order members who will have the same level of skill as the Death Eaters. The other half will not, but we will have the advantage of numbers."

"Agreed," I reply. I point to a wooded area on Hopewell's property. "I suggest this area for staging. We should have our forces Portkey into this location and advance on foot to the hedge."

"They should arrive in waves," says Chester. "The first group should be the ones who are going to take down the wards and the scouts. The scouts will spread out along the hedge without getting close enough to trigger the wards on the Manor." He looks at me and then down at Dobby. "Am I correct in assuming that the wards begin at the hedge?"

Dobby nods. "From hedge, but other wards around Manor."

"There are additional wards around the Manor, itself," I clarify. "They begin at the rose garden and enclose the whole of the house at about twenty yards in any direction. Some of the wards are tied to the family, but I suspect that the Dark Lord will have required Lucius take them down. He would not want the family to be able to keep their guards or the Dark Lord himself out of the house."

"Mistress Narcissa at house," says Dobby. "Pudding say she kept prisoner in master suite with women guards."

"Narcissa Malfoy will not be present at the initiation," I explain. "She is not a Death Eater. The Dark Lord intends that she will give birth to his new body and will not permit her to leave the house. We can assume that she will remain in the master suite at the Manor with at least one guard. Her guards may be under orders to kill her if something interferes with the initiation."

"If that is the case," says Moody, "There may be no way to get to her before the guards carry out their orders."

I do not want to think about how it will affect Lucius and Draco if we go through all of this and cannot save Narcissa.

"None the less," I insist, "Lucius and Draco will want to get to the house to free her. We must allow them to make the attempt."

"Will our attack to the south be visible from the house?" asks Chester.

"I anticipate that our attack will be loud and colorful," I state. "I know of no means to keep spell flash and lights from being detected from the house."

"Are there any wards that could be set up around the battle site that would mask it?" asks Potter.

"None that would not interfere with our flyers," says Chester. "We have not discussed this, but we must be prepared for casualties. Under the circumstances, Narcissa Malfoy may be one of them. There may not be a way for us to rescue her."

"If anyone thinks of something we can do to change the situation," says Remus, "We'll come back to this discussion. For now, I think we should talk about the wards we have to take down."

"We have the list that Malfoy sent us through Dobby," says Chester. "Bill, Remus, Severus, Limnoreia and I have gone through it. We are in agreement that the family wards are set in very subtle ways that will not be noticed when young Draco takes them down."

"How is he going to do that?" asks Potter. "Won't his wand be taken from him?"

"As his official sponsor into the Death Eaters," I report, "I will take his wand and keep custody of it. We will be alone for a period of time before the ritual begins. That will be our opportunity to take down those wards. Lucius and Narcissa will feel the change, but no one else."

"What about the wards the Dark Lord is likely to use?" asks Mike.

"Severus has already given us that list," replies Remus.

"The wards the Dark Lord uses are not uncommon, although they may be difficult," I explain. "The sheer magical power he is able to put into them is the real problem."

"That is one of the reasons Albus will be part of the team that takes down the wards," says Chester. "He believes he can match or exceed the Dark Lord's power."

"I hate to bring this up," says Potter, "But with the stroke he had a few months ago, is he really up to it?"

"He believes so," replies Chester. "Poppy feels that he can participate in taking down the wards. In my opinion, that is all he will be allowed to do. We will remove him from the battlefield after that." Chester offers a generous smile. "Fighting Dark Lords and their minions is a job for young men. Neither Albus nor I will be on the battlefield, this time."

"Assuming Albus is able to take down the Dark Lord's wards, it still leaves us with the issue of what to do if he sets those wards with a human sacrifice," comments Mark.

"Limnoreia is still working on that with some of the staff from Avalon College. If she is unable to come up with a method to bring down the wards without a human sacrifice, I will do a side-along Apparition and bring Edward Selkirk. Edward has a potion that I brewed for him that he will use. It will be over in an instant and we will have what is necessary to bring down any wards set with a human sacrifice."

Arthur puts his hand on Chester's shoulder. They share a look of understanding.

Chester coughs and continues. "While we are working on the wards, the flyers should Portkey in. The scouts will meet them and work out the final approach on the initiation site. How long do you think we should allocate for that?"

"I'll be in the group taking down the wards," says Remus. "Given the information that Dobby has been able to provide about the wards, I think we will need about ten minutes to complete our work. I still need passwords from Draco."

"I will get those from him," I reply.

"If we need the human sacrifice, we'll need a few more minutes," adds Remus.

"Fifteen minutes," says Mark. "If the first group arrives precisely at 10 pm, they should have their work done by 10:15. I think we should have the flying scouts arrive at 10:05, giving them ten minutes to assess the perimeter. The flyers should arrive at 10:10 to assume their positions. The first group of ground troops should arrive at 10:15, just as the wards are brought down."

"When the last of the wards are taken down," says Chester, "It is possible that an alarm will sound. We may not be able to avoid that. The flyers will need to take to the air and be ready to cross over onto Malfoy land just as soon as the wards are down. As soon as those wards are down, we set anti-Apparition wards so the Dark Lord and Death Eaters cannot leave."

"How long do you think it will take for the ground troops to reach the hills?" Bill asks me.

I look at Dobby.

"If the ground troops are in fighting form, I would estimate seven to ten minutes," I speculate.

Dobby nods in agreement.

"That should work out fine," says George. "If all of us flyers split into two lines, we can fly around the hills and locate the bonfire. We should have a couple of the scouts with us on broomstick so we can send them back with information about the exact location."

"If the Dark Lord is going to be in front of the bonfire," says Potter, "We'll need to converge so that we are facing him. We want him to be outlined in front of the fire so we can target him when we begin our strafing runs."

"Unless Charlie can get us more fire bladder extract," I explain, "Each flyer will only have one Happy-Sleepy orb. Every one that is thrown must be a hit. We may not have many extra for re-supply."

"That's why the flyers should work in pairs," says Chester. "We will have one partner picking off Death Eaters on the ground and flying cover while the other concentrates on targeting the Dark Lord."

"That's an excellent strategy," says Potter, enthusiastically.

"Keep in mind that when an orb hits," I instruct him, "The shield that is cast will glow in a light blue color. It will hold for ninety seconds, unless the Dark Lord or someone outside of the shield brings it down. We cannot make the shield impervious. All of the flyers must be warned not to throw an orb if there is already a blue glow around the Dark Lord. It will simply waste an orb and we cannot spare any."

"How many hits will it take to bring down the Dark Lord?" asks Potter.

"We do not know," I tell the group. "Ellen and Poppy have estimated the dosage necessary to repress his magic without killing his shell. During the early strikes, the Dark Lord will be capable of breaking the shield. When that happens, the Happy-Sleepy will be instantly neutralized. He will not have inhaled or absorbed enough of the Happy-Sleepy to diminish his magic. That is why we have to keep hammering him with orbs until he collapses. Ellen and Poppy believe that is the point where he will be experiencing Happy-Sleepy intoxication and will be unable to use magic."

"So, as soon as the Dark Lord is down," says George, "We need to stop hitting him with orbs."

"Exactly," I reply.

"Not all of the flyers will be able to attend the training on Saturday," says Potter. "We need to have them arrive early enough so that we can go over all of this before we Portkey to the Manor."

"Agreed," says Chester.

"At this point," says Mark, "We have the flyers doing strafing runs and taking out as many Death Eaters as they can. The first wave of ground troops should arrive in five to eight minutes after the flyers reach the hill. That's slower than I'm comfortable with. What if we give them short distance Portkeys? We can have them going up the hill in three or four minutes instead of five to eight minutes."

"Good idea," says Chester.

"Mark and I can get together and start making the short distance Portkeys," says Mike.

Mark nods in agreement.

"I will be glad to help with that," offers Arthur. "If we have twenty-four flyers, we'll need about forty Portkeys for the ground troops."

"The timing should work as follows," says Chester. "We have the scouts and ward breakers arrive at 10 pm. The scouts will assess the situation from the perimeter while the wards are taken down. The flyers arrive at 10:10 and take to the air outside of the perimeter to wait for the signal that the wards are down. The first twenty ground troops arrive at 10:15. At approximately 10:15 pm, the wards come down and the flyers and two broom-mounted scouts take off for the hills. They separate into two rows, fly around the hills, and confirm the location of the bonfire. The flyers move into formation and pairs begin making strafing runs. The escort flyer will provide cover and take down Death Eaters on the ground while the other flyer targets the Dark Lord. By 10:20 to 10:25 pm, the first wave of twenty ground troops arrive at the hill and start taking out more Death Eaters."

"In the general chaos of the attack, Lucius, Draco, and I will throw off our Death Eater robes and begin attacking the Death Eaters protecting the Dark Lord," I add.

"Do not start so soon that you have no cover," says Chester. "You will be too outnumbered. Wait until the ground troops arrive."

"Agreed," I reply.

"At 10:20, the next wave of ground troops should arrive," says Chester. "The first group should be at the hill. At 10:30, the second wave of ground troops should be at the hill and engage the enemy. Our medical personnel should arrive at 10:30 and begin setting up the field station to treat the injured."

"At what point should the Ministry be notified of the battle? Once that happens, Aurors will be sent," says Arthur.

"If the battle is going well, we notify Amelia Bones as soon as the Dark Lord collapses," says Moody. "If the battle is not going well, we notify the Minister as soon as possible so we can get our arses bailed out."

"As soon as the Dark Lord falls," I interrupt, "Draco, Lucius, and I will go to the Manor to free Narcissa."

I can see doubt in the expressions of my colleagues. I understand their doubt, but Narcissa is a sister to me. I cannot do anything less than my best to bring out the entire family that has become my own.

"Of course," says Chester, trying to look reassuring. "Every effort should be made to rescue Madam Malfoy."

"There is another problem to solve," I say. "We need a place to incarcerate the Dark Lord until such time as the Ministry has a suitable cell. We need a small cell in an inside room with no windows, except for a single observational window on an interior wall. It must have a door that opens out to another room so that the Dark Lord cannot hide behind it when someone enters to bring in food. It should be furnished with a cot and chamber pot. Fresh air must be able to circulate in without using vents. We will need to magically infuse Happy-Sleepy into the air at timed intervals.

"Hogwarts dungeons would be ideal, except that we cannot bring the Dark Lord into Hogwarts while students are in residence," I finish.

"I believe that such a room could be constructed at my home in Wales," offers Chester. "My home is in an isolated area and I live alone, but for my house-elf. I have a cellar that might work out well."

"That is a generous offer," says Arthur.

"If it is agreeable," I add, "I will visit Friday evening and look it over. If it is suitable, we can begin the Transfiguration to build the cell."

"Perhaps Minerva could help me with that," comments Chester. "I shall contact her tomorrow."

I look around the table. I can see looks of enthusiasm and anticipation on the faces of the men who stand with me. This group is ready to take action. After years of the Dark Lord bringing harm to so many we have known and throwing our society into chaos, we stand prepared to take the battle to him on our terms.

* * *

I look at the glass of brandy in my hand and have a better idea. As difficult as this evening of strategizing has been, I believe it calls for something stronger as a reward for our efforts.

"Dobby," I call.

The house-elf appears.

"Can Dobby get something for Professor Potions Master?" he says.

"I would like you to use the password you already know and go to my quarters and get these things." I whisper the rest of the instructions so that the others cannot hear.

Dobby smiles, nods, and disappears.

We are all lounging in the parlor at headquarters. Chester has the most comfortable chair in the room, but at about 185 years old, the man deserves it. Mike, Mark, and Arthur are sitting together, talking about techniques used to create the short distance Portkeys. Moody, as usual, is sitting in a corner on a dining room chair with his flask. Remus is in the rocking chair with Potter sitting on the floor next to him. Bill and George are talking with their hands, using gestures to demonstrate flying maneuvers.

I cannot recall the last time we had a men only group here at headquarters. As I look around the room, I see comrades in arms. Even Potter, George, and Moody fit into that description. If we win, I stand to benefit from this joint effort almost as much as the Malfoys. My servitude to the Dark Lord can end. My servitude to Albus Dumbledore can end. I can finally be free to make decisions based on my own self-interest. Which obviously includes Hermione.

Dobby pops back into the room, carrying a wooden box. He goes to fetch glasses while I empty the box of my requested bounty. Two bottles of fire whisky and the large humidor.

"That wouldn't happen to be some of the really good Old Ogdens, would it?" asks Arthur, eyeing the bottles.

"It is, indeed," I reply, feeling generous. "Some of the fifty year old quality Old Ogdens."

"Fifty years old? Where does a school teacher get the money to buy fifty year old fire whisky?" challenges Moody.

"From the same place I obtained the Cuban cigars," I explain, mysteriously. "I won them playing poker. Does anyone object to drinking Lucius Malfoy's liquor or smoking his cigars?"

"Well, in that case…"  
"I could forget where it came from."  
"As long as we're trying to save his snooty arse, he can pay for the party."  
"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."  
"What's so special about Cuban cigars?"

We all stop and stare at Potter.

"Well, I've never smoked a cigar before," he admits. "What's so special about a Cuban cigar?"

Moody walks up and puts his arm around Potter's shoulder. "Welcome to Rites of Passage night with the Order of the Phoenix Men's Club," he growls, mussing Potters hair affectionately.

"All right!" says Potter, sheepishly.

Fire whisky is poured and distributed. Even Moody has put aside his flask and is enjoying the smooth burn of the excellent whisky, giving a loud "Aahhhhhh" after swallowing.

I have Potter take the chair next to mine so that I can explain the fine manly art of smoking a cigar. He seems to be paying close attention, which is more than he ever did in Potions class.

"First, you take the cigar in your dominant hand and give it a visual examination," I begin. "You want to make certain that there are no cracks or discolorations."

Potter holds up his cigar, turning it over to examine it from all angles.

"Next, you should roll the cigar gently between your fingers, looking for soft or hard spots that might interfere with the draw of smoke. Of course, these cigars are of the finest quality and you will not find such a thing. However, if you did, a reputable vendor would replace such an inferior cigar."

I roll the cigar to demonstrate. Potter copies my actions, as do half of the other men in the room.

Novices, I sneer to myself.

"If the cigar is acceptable, you must cut the closed end. The other end will be the one you light." I demonstrate the spell one uses to properly cut a cigar. "The cut must be absolutely clean or it may cause the wrapper to unravel."

There are mumbles around the room as cigars are cut. What can I say? I am an experienced teacher.

"When lighting a cigar, one should use a wooden match or a lighting spell," I explain. "Never use a candle or a Muggle lighter. Never ever introduce extraneous chemicals or essences to a good cigar."

I demonstrate how to hold a cigar while lighting.

"The cigar lighting spell uses a time delay," I continue. "You must puff on the cigar during the lighting process or the cigar will not light." I demonstrate the wand movements and the incantation without actually casting the spell.

"Before you light the cigar, you must understand about puffing." I lean back and prepare to inspire my listeners.

"One does not inhale cigar smoke," I explain carefully for the benefit of the novices who will destroy their lungs if they inhale. "The smoke is intended to be rolled around in the mouth to be tasted and then blown out. While puffing, continue to turn the cigar so that it burns evenly. You may puff at intervals up to one minute apart." I look around the room. My students appear to be most attentive. "In that case, I shall demonstrate the lighting and puffing technique."

Moody and Chester have already lit up. Their facial expressions reflect their deep appreciation of a truly fine cigar.

Potter watches attentively as I light my cigar and enjoy those first puffs of rich smoke from fine Cuban tobacco.

The others imitate my fine example and soon the room is filled with cigar smoke and the sounds of men enjoying excellent fire whisky and cigars.

It is interrupted by George nearly coughing up a lung after he inadvertently inhales. Potter pounds him on the back. George is nearly recovered when Potter makes the same mistake. George returns the favor, only harder. Potter is turning quite green and makes a mad dash towards the bathroom.

The rest of us exchange knowing glances as we listen to the sounds of retching.

"Virgins," comments Moody, with a snort. "It'll make a man of him."

Chester demonstrates his skill in blowing smoke rings and accepts a refill of his glass from Dobby. The only reason there is any oxygen left in this room is because of Dobby magically clearing the air at regular intervals.

"I would like to offer a toast," says Chester.

We all raise our glasses and wait for whatever profound statement Chester is about to make.

"To Modern Women," he announces, emphatically.

"To Modern Women," we repeat, dutifully.

"To women of any sort," suggests Bill, playfully.

"To bad women, especially," amends George, clinking glasses with his brother.

"To our women," says Mike, with a rather soppy look. Mike, Mark, and Arthur clink glasses. I simply raise mine in silent homage to my own lady.

"I believe I have something to say," says Chester, looking rather like a Biblical prophet with a halo of smoke around his sparse white hair. "As the most senior member of the Order, I believe I have something to say."

I am uncertain how much fire whiskey Chester has imbibed, but this could be very interesting.

"I have a deep and abiding respect for and appreciation of the Modern Woman," he says. "You youngsters have no idea, no concept of how much women have changed over the last two centuries."

"Short skirts and low cut tops," says George, with what sounds suspiciously like a giggle.

Chester holds up his hand to interrupt.

"I will grant that women appear to be wearing fewer layers than they used to," he says. "While that may grant you more of a view, you may never know the sheer pleasure of working your way through layers of dress, petticoats, corset, stockings, and garters."

That earns him a chorus of laughter.

He pauses to take another puff of his cigar and blows a truly astonishing smoke ring, which we all pause to admire.

"Modern Women," continues Chester, "Certainly possess more freedom in how they choose to dress. That is simply a reflection of the broader freedoms and choices they have in life. When I was a boy, their choices were few. The only respectable professions for women were wife and mother, nun, or in some way caring for others."

Someone mutters something about the oldest profession, but I am unsure who said it. I am reasonably certain it was not me.

"Even Dilys Derwent," he continues, "revered Healer that she was, the highest office she achieved was Headmistress of Hogwarts. She was still caring for others." Another smoke ring rolls delicately across the room.

I make my own attempt at a smoke ring, but it is more of an oval than a ring.

Mike just puffed a rectangle. He must be using magic.

Mark has obviously decided to outdo him and puffs a hexagon.

"Today," says Chester, "The world is different. We have Amelia Bones as Minister for Magic. Women have moved into careers that were once held exclusively by men."

"My Dora is an Auror," says Remus, proudly.

"And a damn fine one," adds Potter, returning from his visit with the porcelain gods and his voice more raspy than usual. He appears to have set aside his cigar.

"Ellen is an expert in curse reversal," says Mark, eyeing Chester suspiciously. "There is nothing wrong with taking care of other people."

"I am in no way decrying her choice of career," says Chester. "Ellen Smith is an excellent Healer. The point is that she had a choice."

"Jean was going to be an Auror," boasts Mike. "She's smart, knows her Dark Arts, has a knack for Arithmancy and can kick some serious arse. She's so good that the Unspeakables recruited her, first." He boasts and then frowns. "Maybe I wasn't supposed to say that."

"We all know that Jean is an Unspeakable," says Moody. "You're not exactly shocking us with this news."

"What's wrong with being a wife and mother?" says Arthur, sounding offended. "I will tell you that raising seven children is not a job for the timid."

"No one has ever accused Mum of being timid," laughs George.

"Once again," announces Chester, "She made a choice."

"To Modern Women and their choices," says Arthur, raising his glass.

"I'll drink to that," says Mark.

We all raise our glasses in response.

"Which brings me back to my main point," says Chester.

He has a point?

"Each of these ladies has made a choice," remarks Chester, tapping the ash off his cigar into an ashtray held by Dobby. "Each of these Modern Women has made a choice and none of them is the less feminine for it."

"To Modern Women and their femininity!" calls out Moody from his corner.

Why not? I raise my glass along with the others and mumble something about femininity.

"There are ways that gentlemen refer to the ladies in their lives that speak to this," continues Chester, pontificating. "The fairer sex, the gentle sex, and our better halves, just to name a few. These address the fundamental truth that our ladies are generally better people than we men are."

"The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world!" declares Arthur.

The rest of us look at him rather blankly.

"I heard that somewhere," says Arthur, rather befuddled.

George mutters something about his mother becoming the next Dark Lord. I do not know if Arthur heard all of it, but he is glaring at his son.

"AS I WAS SAYING," says Chester, reclaiming the floor. "As I look around this room, I see intelligent men who are married to intelligent women."

"Where does that leave those of us who aren't married?" asks Bill.

"Maybe we get more intelligent when we start getting some on a regular basis?" I mumble to myself.

Potter and George are looking at me, aghast. I must have mumbled that louder than I realized.

"In that case," says Remus, with an inane smile, "I'm doing just fine in the intelligence department."

Lovely. The werewolf is getting sex on a more regular basis than I am. Of course, his girlfriend is in England, whereas my intended is in the United States.

Chester stomps his foot on the floor a couple of times to get our attention.

"As I was saying," he repeats, "The women of the Order are intelligent and capable." He waves his cigar in emphasis. "Yet, they are gentle and delicate creatures in comparison to us."

"While I respect the opinions of my elders," says Mike, "Jean could kick most of our arses, with or without magic."

"An exception," decries Chester.

"So could Dora," adds Remus.

"Maybe that says something about us rather than them," says Arthur, rebelliously.

"In a purely magical battle," says Chester, "The women could hold their own as the full equals of men. But, this battle will be different. It is going to be about physical prowess and sheer aggression in conjunction with magical ability. In that, I do believe that men have an advantage. I will state for the record…"

"Is someone keeping a record of this?" asks Moody, looking around suspiciously.

Chester sneers at him.

"I will state for the record," Chester repeats, "That the most aggressive man is more aggressive than the most aggressive woman. The most physically adept man is more so than the most physically adept woman."

Mark raises an eyebrow. "I have one word to say to that: Bellatrix. Lestrange."

"That's two words," says Mike, giving him a nudge with his elbow.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is living proof that the most insane woman is more insane than the most insane man," I retort.

"I'll second that one!" calls Arthur with a raised glass, which sends Bill, George, and Potter into gales of laughter. I wonder what insane woman they might be thinking of?

"I would agree with you on that," says Chester, nodding sagely. "I will also state for the record that when our ancestors were living in mud huts, the first rock thrown at the hut next door was thrown by a man, not a woman."

"Are you saying that men invented war?" asks Remus.

"I most certainly am," says Chester with great self-assurance. "Women would have sat down and had tea or whatever they drank when we lived in mud huts. They would have talked it over, cried, pledged undying friendship, and resolved the issue. Men would have got stinking drunk and gone at each other with clubs."

"Or wands," says George, from his position on the floor. "What's wrong with being stinking drunk?"

"Absolutely nothing," says Potter, licking the last drop of fire whisky from his glass.

"Where exactly is all of this going?" challenges Mark.

"I am simply making the entirely rationale argument that women are inherently superior to men and that we men are brutes," says the 185 year old wizard who is wearing yellow robes that look rather like a nightie.

"To brutes," calls George. The rest of us raise our glasses half-heartedly.

"In this particular battle," continues Chester, "Bruteship, as it were, is an asset which all of us here have in sufficient quantity to hold our own. Other than the fact that I am too damn old for all of this," he sighs. "Nevertheless, I have noticed a tendency on the part of Modern Women to have Notions."

"Notions?" asks Bill

"Notions," says Chester, definitively. "Modern Women are inclined to believe in the Notion that they can fully and successfully participate in events that are better left to brutes."

"Are you suggesting that the women be kept out of the battle?" asks Remus, looking amused. "If I even suggested such a thing to Dora, she'd make a point of demonstrating her own capacity for brutishness."

"I accept the reality that there are a few women, who by virtue of their professions, training, and physical conditioning may be capable of holding their own against brutes," declares Chester. "Nymphadora Tonks and Jean Lamb may be among them," he says, raising his glass.

"To Nymphadora Tonks and Jean Lamb," says Mike. "Two fine kick arse women!"

"To Nymphadora Tonks and Jean Lamb," we repeat, dutifully. Dobby goes around and refills glasses.

"However," continues Chester, "There are other women involved who are not the kick arse type. I wish to point out that Minerva McGonagall is a sweet young thing who could certainly hold her own in a totally magical contest, but still has health issues related to being hit with all those Stunners a few years ago."

Minerva as a sweet young thing? How exactly does Chester perceive her?

"Don't look at me like that, Snape," says Chester, doing his best to look threatening while wearing a daffodil colored nightie. "She's not even one hundred years old. When you get to be my age, one hundred is a sweet young thing."

Before I can question his intentions towards Minerva, I am interrupted.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," says Mark, waving his hands. "You are seriously suggesting that we try to keep the rest of the women at home while we go off to war? Fine. I'll try putting Ellen in a Body Bind. Of course, she'll find her way out of it in five minutes flat, even if I take her wand with me. If I am uninjured during the battle, she'll make up for it when I return home. Believe me; you don't want to get on the wrong side of a woman who knows as much about curses as Ellen does."

"I suggest that we give them assignments that will keep them in support positions rather than participating in direct combat," offers Chester. "Ellen will be in charge of the medical station just off of the battlefield, so she will not be in the middle of the fight anyway."

"Just how would we come up with support stations for the other Modern Women with Notions?" asks Arthur, gaining a nod from Bill in the process.

"Some of them could be guarding the medical station," suggests Chester as he turns to me. "What is the exact dosage of Happy-Sleepy needed to induce intoxication in the Dark Lord?"

"We do not know," I reply. "Working with the snakes has given us some idea. Ellen and Poppy have recommended the dosage for each Happy-Sleepy orb. We want to incapacitate him and his magic, but not kill him."

"There you have it," says Chester, in a decidedly superior tone. "We need battlefield observers to determine how many orbs hit the Dark Lord before he reaches intoxication."

Battlefield observers, I muse to myself. Chester may be onto something with this. If I am to get Hermione's cooperation, I must handle this discussion carefully. Potter is likely to inform Hermione if I say anything less than complimentary about Hermione's ability to fight.

"You are suggesting that we allocate some of our forces to monitor activity on the battlefield," I state. "I can see value to that, specifically as it relates to determining the exact number of strikes it takes to bring down the Dark Lord."

"Who do we have who would be logical choices for this responsibility?" asks Chester.

"Hermione," says Potter, eagerly. "She knows the science behind the orbs. She's an excellent observer and has an amazing memory. Obviously, no one is going to be keeping a record with parchment and quill during a battle."

I think that I may come to like the adult version of Harry Potter.

"I think my Mum might be a good choice," suggests George, garnering approving looks from his father and older brother. "She's determined to be in on the battle, but I don't know if that's a good idea. You know how she gets on about us kids. All of us but Ginny are going to be there. If she could participate in a way where she's not really expected to fight, except to defend herself and the other members of the team, it could keep her involved without having her get in the way."

"I hate to point out the obvious," says Bill. "Don't you think they are going to figure out that they are being given support roles while us hairy chested brutes are going to be in the thick of things?"

Actually, I do not have much chest hair. Volume of chest hair should not be a determinant of who can fight and who cannot.

"Perhaps there are some men in the Order who should be assigned this duty, too," suggests Chester. "That would keep the women from realizing what we are doing."

"If Hermione is in charge of the battlefield observers," offers Potter, "Then Neville Longbottom would be an excellent choice as part of an escort team." He looks at me, anticipating my objection. "Neville is much better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than he was at Potions."

"I can confirm that," says Bill. "He was one of my best students last year."

I already knew that, but I will let it go. Longbottom may be a catastrophe on two feet around a cauldron, but that does not mean he cannot excel at other fields of endeavor. He has been a good friend to Hermione over the years and I believe would do his best to protect her.

"We should identify a few more people for the team," says Chester. "What about Jean?"

"No way," says Mike. "Jean is planning to be one of the flyers. I'll be with the ground troops."

"I'll be flying," says Mark, grinning. "I'm considering doing something special with a Bludger. What do you say to a little extra Quidditch practice on Saturday?"

"Fred, Ron, Harry and I are going to be with the flyers," says George. "I'm certain we're game for it."

"I wish I could join you," says Bill, wistfully. "I'll be on ward removal duty, so I'll be with the ground forces."

"Do we know who is going to be going to Chicago on Saturday?" asks Potter.

"I don't have the list," says Chester, eking out one more smoke ring from the stub of his cigar. "Albus is working on finalizing it."

It looks like the Men's Club meeting is winding down. The fire whisky is almost gone and the cigars are down to stubs.

"It is late," says Chester, putting out his cigar. "Thank you, Severus, for hosting this evening's session. I do believe our younger members have developed an appreciation for some of the finer things in life."

"Minerva enjoys a good cigar, too," I mention.

"Really?" says Chester. "I'll have to remember that." He smiles as if he has a plan in mind.

"She can also drink me under the table," I add.

Potter and George look at me in stunned surprise.

Moody walks over, pats me on the shoulder and nods. "You haven't partied until you've partied with Minerva McGonagall. Makes the rest of us look like bloody amateurs." He shakes his head and makes for the kitchen door.

"By the way," calls Mark from across the room, "I'd appreciate it if the cigars could remain our little secret. You have no idea the lecture I'd get if Ellen knew I was smoking tonight."

Moody grumbles something unintelligible and trudges off.

"I do know exactly what kind of lecture you would get," I comment, having been on the receiving end of one or two of them. "You had better use a few odor neutralizing spells. All of us reek of cigar smoke."

"Good suggestion," says Mark. "I'll attend to it before I Apparate home."

"I'd appreciate a shot of that," says Arthur. "I'll bet that my Molly can out lecture your Ellen any day of the week."

"It's a contest I'm willing to let someone else win," says Mark, putting a companionable arm around Arthur's shoulder. "Hey, Mike," he says, "How about the three of us meet at my house tomorrow night and work on the Portkeys?"

"Good idea," says Mike. "I was thinking about the safety aspect of it. We need to make sure they are charmed so nobody ends up smacking into a tree."

"Glad we can count on you to figure out every little thing," says Mark, as they depart.

I am about to leave when Potter stops me.

"Professor," says Potter, "I think we're in agreement about what's the best role for Hermione in the battle. Why don't you let me bring it up to her?"

Potter has actually given some thought to this.

"She may resist the suggestion that she be anything but a full participant in the battle," I reply. "We had a discussion about it after I learned of Pettigrew's plans for her. She demonstrated a certain level of stubbornness about the matter."

"I've never forgotten how she looked after Dolohov sliced her up when we went into the Ministry," says Potter, with a look of deep regret. "She didn't really believe that the Dark Lord had Sirius. She urged caution and to check and double check before I talked her into going. I convinced her to go to the Ministry and it almost got her killed. I owe it to her to give her a better shot at coming out of this one unharmed."

I find myself nodding in agreement.

"Given that Pettigrew wants her," I state. "I would have preferred that she not be in the battle at all. We have to watch out for that, especially if things go badly."

"Maybe we need to have a special agreement with the battlefield observers. Something along the lines that they have a duty to evacuate immediately if things go pear-shaped," says Potter.

"Sensible," I state. "They should go immediately to Chicago. Schuler's people will need to know what happened so they can determine what went wrong."

"They'll have to take over the fight, if we fail," says Potter, shaking his head.

"In that case," I reply, "I shall defer to you to discuss this with Hermione." If there is any shouting, it will be Potter who gets a new parting in his hair and not me.

"It's the least I can do after the fire whisky," says Potter, smiling. I note that he does not mention the cigar.

"Persuade her and I will be more than happy to keep you supplied with Lucius Malfoy's cigars."

"I think I can pass on the cigars, but it's a deal."

* * *

Author's notes

"The Hand the Rocks the Cradle" a poem by William Ross Wallace in praise of motherhood, published in the mid nineteenth century.

Keezheekoni: A Cheyenne name meaning Burning Fire

I have never smoked. Severus' instruction on how to smoke a cigar was researched on the Internet. You can find information about anything on the Internet.

Thank you to Excessivelyperky for her suggestions about this chapter. Harry Potter vomited because of her (snicker). Not everyone can claim that.

Thank you for all the inspiration I get from my reviewers: Dverducci, T wrecks, Persevero, Excessivelyperky, Murgy31, Lipasnape, Oscarxena, Calophi, Laurenke1, Ohajikigal, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Lyndie578, Sylphides, Droxy, MollysSister, Perwinkle27, Klschmidt, CharmedForce, Jade2099, Seth7, Lady Slone, Purplewidget, Squeaker19450, Machshefa, MamaJMarie, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Pickles87, NervousaboutAngels, FarmerLiz, Maddie50, Mia Madwyn, KimJo, T, Ebbe04, Notwritten, Blue artemis, Smiles28, Andi-Scribbles, Duj, Princessfiona, Joycemum, o0morgana0o, Koliber, Yapyap, Wynnleaf, Arime Setta, Marble Meadow, Katmurphy723, SpSt, Into.Your.Arms, Phoenix's Feather, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Sunsethill, Snakegirl-Sprockett, MoreThanSirius, HumbleMaster, Hpfanwenday, Milka, Jasmine May, Rinny08, Katmurphy, Dirt, Keske, Erytha, Allycat1186, Lindajrjt, Trulyamused, and MysticSong1978 (who should get well quick).


	96. Chapter 96

Don't own it. Having fun, but not making any money.

Thank you to Julia who has stuck with this story for two years.

* * *

June 12th, 1999  
Countdown: 9 days, 9 hours, and 15 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

My bedroom is ready. I have put my best sheets on the bed, tidied up the room, and the beige lace nightgown is hanging on the hook inside the closet. With any luck, I won't need it.

Severus is going to spend the night.

If have to tie him down, he's going to spend the night. That's an interesting idea. Maybe that should go on my _To Do To Severus_ list.

I slide my wand back into the special pocket sewn into my jeans. I do a quick check of the bathroom and replace the towels with clean ones.

Time to go and look for Jean. She said she'd be putting the finishing touches to the apartments on the third floor that she fixed up yesterday. These are for the couples from the Order who will be spending the night.

We meet up with each other just outside apartment 3 C. That's the one Draco has allocated to Jean and her husband, Mike. It's right next to apartment 3 D, which is the one Ellen and Mark Smith will be staying in. Remus and Tonks will be staying in 3 B. Just in case we have an extra couple, 3 A is set up for guests.

"All done?" I ask.

"Would you like to see?" asks Jean. "I've got the bedroom finished."

She doesn't wait for me to answer before she opens the door to the apartment. I can see that she didn't bother doing anything with the empty living room or kitchen.

The bedroom is a whole different case in point.

"So what do you think?" says Jean, standing inside the doorway.

"I like what you've done in here," I reply, admiring her sophisticated Transfiguration work.

"I have to thank Edgar for bringing up those wooden crates so I'd have something to transfigure," says Jean. "I used the box of tissues from your bathroom for all of the fabric and the mattresses on this floor. All of it should be good for about forty-eight hours before it reverts."

We are standing in what looks like a French country bedroom with a large sleigh bed. A few of the tissues have been turned into a blue and white patchwork quilt and assorted pillows. In front of the window, Jean added a small bistro table and two chairs.

"Dorothy has promised to bring up chocolate covered strawberries and a few other goodies while we're gone," says Jean, cheerfully. "I intend that Mike and I are going to have a romantic reunion after all of this time apart."

"This is a perfect setting for it," I reply. "Are Dorothy and Edgar going to outfit all of the bathrooms? I didn't think to ask Draco."

"I spoke to Draco this morning," says Jean. "He says it will be taken care of while we're gone. The last I saw of him, he was on the first floor Transfiguring odds and ends into beds for the boys."

"Draco is really going all out for this," I comment. "He has Dorothy cooking up a buffet for when we all return from Wisconsin."

"That's fine with me," says Jean. "We can have the first annual Order of the Phoenix house party." Jean gives me a mischievous look. "Would you like to see what I've done for Ellen and Mark?"

"Sure," I reply, following Jean out of the door and into the apartment next door. We make our way to the bedroom and I stop in stunned surprise.

"So, what do you think?" Jean stands there, admiring her handiwork.

"There are a lot of tassels," I remark, carefully, since I'm not sure how this is intended. "It's very… red. I've never seen a round bed, before."

"I think this is some of the best Transfiguration work I've ever done," says Jean, proudly. "I'm hoping that they will walk in and think 'Wow. We're staying in a bordello'."

I am very relieved that this is intended to be a joke. There is a huge round bed that takes up most of the room. Jean has added piles of pillows that make it look like a sultan and half of his harem could lounge in it. Long swatches of red fabric drape over the bed from the ceiling, pulled back with thick red tassels longer than my arm.

"This should do it," I comment, grinning.

"I've added something special to the bed," says Jean, boasting. "Have a seat."

I comply. "This is comfortable."

"Bounce up and down," instructs Jean.

I give a couple of tentative bounces. "The bed squeaks," I observe.

"Keep going," says Jean.

I bounce a little harder. The bed squeaks louder and it sounds like the headboard is banging against the wall. I realize what the squeaking springs and the banging headboard is intended to imply and burst into laughter.

Jean waves her wand and the noise stops. She stands there with her arms crossed and a big grin on her face.

"You are absolutely wicked!" I exclaim.

"I most certainly am," laughs Jean. "Ellen and Mark have a good sense of humor. When they see the bedroom and know that I got it ready for them, it will put them on the alert. Unless Mark is getting careless, he'll check the bedroom for charms and find this one before it starts. If not, everybody in the building is going to know what they're doing."

"Even if they're not doing anything," I comment.

"Exactly," says Jean with a self-satisfied smirk.

"How in the world did you end up in Slytherin?" I ask. "Your sense of humor and practical jokes don't quite fit in with what I'd expect from a Slytherin."

"I had to talk the Hat into it," says Jean, straightening out the duvet on the bed. "It wanted to put me in Hufflepuff, which didn't fit into my plans at all."

"Your plans?"

"I wanted to be an Auror," says Jean. "It was the family business. My oldest brother was already an Auror and the other one was an apprentice. I figured a good Auror needed to understand how to strategize. Slytherin is the best House to learn those skills. All the politics in Slytherin may be a pain, but it helped me to develop my own style for getting things done."

"Style?" I ask.

"Humor," says Jean. "It disarms people and breaks up tension. It can be a distraction when I need one. I stopped more than one fight in the Slytherin common room by being the class clown. If you can get someone to laugh with you, it helps establish rapport. Even if they don't laugh at you, it can make them underestimate you."

"That's very Slytherin," I laugh.

"Exactly," says Jean. "It is still my style, though. As far as I'm concerned, if I don't have a few good laughs in the course of a day, it wasn't worth getting out of bed."

"This floor is done. Shall we go and see if Draco needs help?"

* * *

We find Draco on the ground floor where he is talking to Edgar and Dorothy. Cindy is floating next to them.

"I'll rearrange the furniture and put up the buffet table over here," says Edgar, pointing to a space at the end of the room that usually holds a small table and chairs. "That will allow guests to get to the food without stepping in between the seated guests. The chairs will be rearranged into conversational groupings."

"A lot of the guests live exclusively in the wizarding world and have no exposure to Muggle technology," says Draco. "They might enjoy the novelty of the electric lights, though we should have some candles interspersed through the room."

"I'll take care of that kind of decorating," says Dorothy. "I'll have the buffet ready just as soon as your guests arrive, Mr. Malfoy. Because of the number of people and the size of the space, I will prepare things that are easily eaten from a plate on one's lap, but still hearty. I will have small quiches, meatballs, large prawns, sausage rolls, chicken wings, pate on toast points, samosas, finger sandwiches in a choice of roast beef or turkey with cheese, a cheese platter, and a cold vegetable platter with dips. For afters, I will have a dessert table with slices of cheesecake, carrot cake, chocolate éclairs, or apple pie."

"That's a good assortment," says Draco, nodding. "Could we also have some of those little tacos? I'll bet some of the guests have never had those."

"No problem, Mr. Malfoy," says Dorothy.

"I will be standing by to tend bar," says Edgar. "I have the two brands of butterbeer that you requested, along with standard American beers and liquors. I have a case of the twenty-five year old Old Ogdens that was delivered yesterday."

"Now, that's what I call a good host," comments Jean.

"No kidding!" exclaims Cindy. "You sure know how to throw a party."

"I do require direction on how to deal with underage drinkers," says Edgar.

"Everyone who is under twenty-one has agreed to stay here for the night and not leave the building," replies Draco, solemnly. "As long as they comply with that, they may be served. I will let you know if there is anyone who has changed their mind."

"I'll keep an eye on them, too," says Cindy, nodding sagely. "They might need advice from someone older and wiser. If any of them look like they're going to leave, I'll herd them back inside or come and get one of the adults to retrieve them."

"Good," says Draco. "I appreciate you watching things for me. All of us British wizarding types are accustomed to having a lower drinking age than is allowed in the United States. I'll ask everyone to follow the house rules and keep the drinking inside. We don't want any trouble from the Muggle authorities. I expect that they'll cooperate, but you never know."

"Do you know what time you will return, sir?" asks Dorothy.

"I anticipate we'll return sometime around midnight," says Draco. 'It may be a little later than that."

"We'll be ready," says Cindy.

* * *

The fliers were the first to arrive. I knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to wait to get here. Five minutes after their Portkeyed arrival, the twins showed up in the clearing behind Roger's cabin in northern Wisconsin.

"The Comet Hurricane 2000 has distinct advantages over the Firebolt," says George, holding up his new broom for the others to see. "The charms and the design add to greater maneuverability at high speeds."

"And it has a racing stripe in your choice of colors," adds Fred.

"Which is how we tell ours apart," says George, pointing to his blue metallic stripe.

Fred makes a point of showing off the purple metallic stripe on his.

"That's all right," says Harry. "I know my Firebolt so well, I could fly it blindfolded and with one arm tied behind my back."

"That won't help you hit the target," I interject, poking him on the shoulder.

"Yeah," replies Harry, sheepishly running his hand through his already messy hair.

"Doesn't matter," says Ron. "We're going to knock Voldemort on his arse. Once Bill and Charlie get here, we're going show everyone what five Weasleys and a Potter can do."

"It's a shame Ginny can't be here," I add.

"No, it isn't," says Ron. "I'm glad that Ginny is going to be at Hogwarts on the 21st. She'll be tucked away safely, while all the rest of us will be there. All of us except Percy, that is."

"We're hoping Percy won't be there," says Fred, grimly.

"If he is," says George, sounding bitter, "He'll get what he deserves, because he'll be fighting on the wrong side.

"We don't know for certain that he's a Death Eater," says Harry. "Professor Snape says that he's never heard Percy's voice at any of their meetings."

"We know that he's not a member of the Order," says Fred, angry. "We know that he broke Mum's heart by not speaking to any of us or coming to Sunday dinner in almost two years. We know that he was an ambitious arse-kissing prat long before that."

"We're talking about logical conclusions, here," adds George.

"It might just mean that he's turned into one of those sodding Ministry bureaucrats who's always got his nose stuck so far up a superior's bung hole that he can't see around the wide expanse of cheeks," I suggest. "It might be stuck there and he can't leave."

That has them staring at me in shock and then laughing uproariously.

Thanks for the idea, Jean. You were right, it does break the tension.

* * *

"You're the only one of us who has seen him in person," says Limnoreia, standing in front of the tree stump that is in a state of mid-transfiguration. "We want the face to look right. He'll make a better target that way."

The stump looks like a tall, slender man with a bald head and no face. Harry stares at it, pensively.

"The robes should be black," says Harry, making the necessary wand movements to change the robes from a vague wood-like brown to black.

He steps back and looks again. More wand movements and the faceless head is a pasty white. Eyes are forming. They look enormous and inhuman, oval-shaped with points instead of rounded ends. They look like the kind you see in drawings of the small grey aliens in science fiction stories. Harry makes them the same glowing red color that I've seen in the Muggle world while waiting at a stop light. He moves onto a sort of nose. It is as it someone sliced off a statue's nose and left two nostril slits.

"When he breathes, the center strip of flesh moves," says Draco, calling from the back.

I turn to see Draco standing just outside of our circle. He has his broom across his shoulders, holding it in place with his forearms, as if it were a yoke.

"I don't think I want to make him quite that life-like," says Harry, looking at Draco intently.

"Can't blame you there," replies Draco, tilting his head to look at the Voldemort statue. "His chin is more pointed."

"Right," says Harry, with a nod. The shape of the face changes.

"I think the forehead is a little broader," suggests Draco. "And there is a bit of a dip between his eyes where the bridge of the nose should be."

"Sounds like you got a good close look at him," says Limnoreia, sympathetically.

"Too close," says Draco, clamming up and turning away. I walk after him.

"Draco?" I ask, before putting my hand on his shoulder.

He shakes his head in response and walks off.

* * *

Bill and Mark laugh as Jean hands them their t-shirts. She and Limnoreia are already wearing theirs.

_I taught DADA at Hogwarts and all I got was this lousy t-shirt._

Remus is pulling his on over his long sleeved top. I suspect the layered look is intended to hide the claw scars on his arms from the days he had to deal with transformation without Wolfsbane potion.

"He's going to be late," says Remus, looking at me. "It can't be helped. He sent me a silver message that he was supervising a study group in Slytherin that needed help with Ancient Runes before their examination tomorrow."

"As long as he's here tonight," I reply. "The real dress rehearsal will be after dark."

"Just the dress rehearsal?" asks Remus, lightly.

With as hot as my face just got, I must have turned beet red.

He gives me an amused smile.

* * *

Their Portkey trip was a little rough. Both Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey are looking green around the gills. Draco holds out a hand to Adrian and pulls him up off the ground. The three of them are caught up in a reunion with manly hugs, back slapping, and comments about how ugly all of them still are.

I'm standing by with vials of Anti-Nausea potion. Harry and Ron are on their way from across the field.

This is a real reunion for these three men. None of them have seen each other in at least six months. Zabini has been in hiding at an Order safe house somewhere in Europe. Severus told me that he and Zabini made a broom crossing of the channel over the Christmas holidays in order to get Zabini out of the country. Pucey approached Dumbledore to look for help for his sister sometime last autumn.

"Hello, Granger," says Zabini, brushing the debris from the ground off his trousers.

"It's good to see both of you, Zabini, Pucey," I reply. "I have Anti-Nausea potion for both of you." I hold out a vial to each of them. "Trans-oceanic Portkeying can really turn your stomach, so I've been passing out a lot of it today."

"Hermione's been brewing for days," says Draco, smiling at me. "She's studying Potions at Avalon and is a fantastic brewer. She's worked with Professor Snape on a couple of projects for the Order, too."

He's letting them know that we are friends and that Professor Snape trusts me.

"Will Professor Snape be here?" asks Pucey.

"He's going to be late," replies Draco. "He'll be here."

"Good," says Zabini. "I'll admit that I was glad to be finished at Hogwarts, but I've missed old Snape."

_Old Snape_? He is not!

"Yeah," offers Pucey, amused. "You could pretty much talk to him about anything, which is why we're here today."

Harry and Ron have reached our little group. Harry walks up to Pucey with a welcoming look and an outstretched hand. "Welcome to the Order," he says. Pucey hesitates for a moment and then accepts the handshake.

"Zabini," says Ron, offering his hand. Zabini accepts.

"You do understand that if we weren't on the same side, we'd be showing what a sorry pair of flyers you two are," says Zabini, with teasing sarcasm.

I suppose they have to do the _guys saving face_ thing.

"I think we can still show them a thing or two, even if we are on the same side," says Pucey, elbowing Draco. "As long as you got the brooms…"

"_Accio_ Zabini's broom. _Accio_ Pucey's broom," Draco calls, holding out his hands.

Ron and I move quick smart to get out of the way of the two brooms hurtling in our general direction.

"Draco!" I lecture with a wagging finger.

That has Harry and Ron laughing. They've been on the receiving end of that wagging finger, before. Naturally, Draco ignores me.

Boys.

"Brand new Harley Davidson Professional Series Quidditch brooms," boasts Draco, handing each of them a broom. "The finest brooms made in the United States. I have one, too."

The guys are oohing and aaahing over the new brooms with the famous Harley Davidson logo. I think Harry might be envious. Ron definitely is.

* * *

"The practice orbs work exactly the same way as the Happy-Sleepy orbs," announces Draco, holding one up in front of the group of flyers.

Oliver Wood is talking with Jean and Mike. It looks like he is admiring the broom that Mike brought for Jean. She said hers is modified with spells for speed and maneuverability, and has a few other spells that would be illegal on a civilian's broom. Mark is doing a last minute inspection of his broom.

Ron and his brothers are standing with Harry, Pucey, and Zabini. There are eight other flyers here and none of them are people I know. Jean and most of the Order members know all of them. I suspect that they were at Hogwarts at the same time as Severus, Remus, and the others.

"The practice orbs have a blue tint to them," continues Draco, "Whereas the actual Happy-Sleepy orbs will be clear. I've applied a Crush Resistance charm to each one, so it shouldn't break in your pocket while you are flying. Fall on top of an actual Happy-Sleepy orb and I can't guarantee that you won't end up addicted to the stuff."

"I can absolutely guarantee that you will," I call out from the sidelines, getting a lot of laughs in response. "I know my own product," I tell Remus, emphatically

"If you don't have a big enough pocket to store your orbs in," says Draco, talking loudly to get the crowd's attention, "You'll need to transfigure one and add a No Fall Out charm to it."

There's shuffling about and mumbling as the fliers attend to that little project. It looks like Mike is demonstrating a No Fall Out charm for some of them.

Draco is holding up a practice orb to get their attention.

"You will need to throw your orb hard enough that it will break when it strikes the Voldemort target," says Draco. "I will demonstrate that for you. Notice that when it breaks, there a glowing blue field that will appear around the statue."

Everyone moves back to give Draco some throwing room. I want to laugh out loud as Draco takes a stance like a pitcher at an American baseball game. He winds up and gives a solid over arm throw at the Voldemort statue. There is a sound of breaking glass as it hits the wooden Voldemort mid-chest, gaining cheers from the crowd. In an instant, the blue glow of the shield can be seen, surrounding the statue.

Draco turns to the crowd.

"When the blue glow is present," he says, "It means that the Happy-Sleepy potion is activated. If you watch, you'll see that the glow fades out in ninety seconds. When the shield disappears, it will cause the Happy-Sleepy to be neutralized. We don't want anyone but Voldemort to be exposed to the Happy-Sleepy."

Everyone watches and I can hear mumbled comments as the blue shield vanishes.

"All that's inside these orbs is water, so there is no risk during practice," continues Draco. "It is possible to take down the shield with a standard shield destruction spell. This can be done both from the inside and outside."

Draco pitches another orb at the Voldemort target. It strikes him in the head, resulting in more cheering and catcalls from the crowd. The blue glow surrounds the statue. Draco pulls his wand out of the holster on his arm and casts a yellow bolt of light at it. The blue glow disappears.

Now, it's our turn. Ellen and I walk in front of the group and stand next to Draco.

"We know that Voldemort will be able to take down the shield from the inside," I call out. "We anticipate that he will do so pretty quickly for the first few that hit him. Because of that, he isn't going to inhale or absorb much of the Happy-Sleepy during the first strikes. That's why we have to keep hammering him, but always check and make certain he doesn't have a blue glow around him before throwing your orb. You'll simply waste an orb if you throw it while there is a blue glow around him."

"When he starts to feel the Happy-Sleepy intoxication," continues Ellen, "He will be unsteady on his feet. We don't know the amount of Happy-Sleepy he will need to absorb into his body before it suppresses his magic. For a typical wizard or witch, one or two orb strikes that last between sixty and ninety seconds should be sufficient. We don't know how different it will be for Voldemort, given how he has modified his body. As the orb strikes continue, you should be able to see his magic weakening until he can't generate enough power to knock out the shield. When he is too weak to stand, his magic should be sufficiently suppressed to capture him.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how important it is not to strike anyone but the Dark Lord with the Happy-Sleepy orbs," says Ellen, emphatically. "We have a limited supply of the orbs and can't afford to waste a single one. Also, we have to keep enough of a supply of Happy-Sleepy on hand for after we capture him so we can maintain the magical suppression. Besides, I really don't want to deal with any addicted Death Eaters besides Voldemort."

"Any questions?" I ask.

Ron calls out from among the fliers.

"Would the shields be more likely to hold if we pelted him with a Happy-Sleepy orb first and then hit him with a few practice orbs? That would put layers of shields on him that might take more time for Voldemort to take down."

"That's a really good question," I reply. "We didn't think of that, so maybe we can give it a try during practice to see if it adds to the length of time we can keep the Happy-Sleepy potion active."

"Any other questions?" I look around and don't see any.

"In that case," I continue, "We'll turn this over to Harry, Jean, and Mark who are going to talk about the attack strategy for the fliers."

Draco, Ellen, and I step back and let them take over.

* * *

The flyers are starting to take off to run drills. Ellen and I realize that this is a very good time to take care of other business.

"Roger said that we could use the bathroom in his house," says Draco, pointing towards the A-frame cabin as he picks up his broom. "The bathroom is off of the kitchen at the back of the house."

Ellen and I make our way to the cabin and knock on the door. There's no answer, so I check to see if it is locked or warded. It isn't, so we go inside. Roger's cabin is larger on the inside than it appears on the outside. It is all very rustic, with knotty pine paneling on the walls and southwestern style throws on the chairs and sofa. There is a steep set of stairs that look like they lead to a loft. The bedroom is probably up there.

I finish in the bathroom and wait in the kitchen for Ellen. I look out the window over the sink, which must be the one the bear broke into to get the legendary can with the bacon grease in it.

I can hear Roger laughing. I move to the left so I can look out the window and see further to the right where the noise is coming from.

Omigosh.

Limnoreia has Roger pushed up against a tree. His shirt is pulled loose and she is tickling him. It looks like he is thoroughly enjoying himself. I move further to the left so I can't be seen through the open window. Now, Roger is grabbing Limnoreia and has switched places so she is pushed back against the tree.

That is quite an intense snog going on there. Especially now that Limnoreia has one leg hitched around Roger.

Ellen comes out of the bathroom and I wave her over so she can take a peek. Ellen looks out the window and we both start to giggle. Roger has his hand up Limnoreia's t-shirt for a little exploration.

I suppose we should stop being voyeurs before we see more than we really want to.

Muffling our laughter, Ellen and I sneak quietly out of the kitchen and rejoin the others.

* * *

I can hear the sounds of brooms and flyers overhead as they line up to practice strafing runs. Draco is up there with them. He is determined that he'll find a way to _Accio _his broom and join up with the flyers when the fighting starts. He won't have an orb, because there is no way we can conceal one on him. Still, he wants to fly protection for the others.

I look up and see Jean and Mark tossing a Bludger back and forth between them. Harry said that Mike and Mark had done something interesting to a Bludger so they could use it as a weapon with a lot more control than a regulation Bludger.

Roger and Limnoreia have rejoined the rest of us. I can't help but notice that his braid isn't as neat as it usually is and Limnoreia's hair looks like she's been in a windstorm.

Ellen gives me a knowing look and we are both fighting off laughter.

Bill and I are going to conceal ourselves in the trees, along with some of the others. We're going to play Death Eaters during the practice runs and take shots at the flyers. Everyone is wearing special dueling badges that will record when they are hit with a non-injurious targeting spell that all of us Death Eaters will be using. The same will happen to us, if we're hit by one of them.

I hear Bill give a Sonorused whistle to start the action. The first two flyers are overhead, flying at high speed towards the Voldemort target. I can see Tonks aiming her wand at one of them. I aim at the other.

I don't think either of us hit them and I can see a blue glow around the Voldemort statue.

Another set of flyers are overhead. Weren't they listening? The blue glow has to fade before they throw another orb. Oh, good. They didn't pitch orbs at Voldemort, they just fired fake hexes at us on the ground to keep us off balance. Good strategy, so I ought to duck.

* * *

I took three hits in the last round, so I am officially dead for this practice run. It's just as well, because I joined Ellen at the medical station just in time for Charlie to arrive by Portkey. We see him land and collapse over near the cabin.

Ellen's quick. She outruns me and gets to Charlie first.

"Oi, thanks," says Charlie, sounding woozy as Ellen charms a pillow under his head. Charlie has a loose, blood-soaked rag wrapped around his left hand. She runs a quick diagnostic charm and sends me back to the medical station to get her Healer's bag.

"Charlie Weasley," says Ellen, shaking her head as she carefully unwraps the bloody bandage. "Why in the world did you even try to come here with your hand in this condition?"

"Had to get the fire bladder extract here," he groans. "The jars are in the pouch in my jacket pocket. You'd better get them out before I break anything."

Ellen reaches carefully into the pocket of Charlie's jacket and takes out the Reducioed pouch. She hands it to me.

"I had a Portkey," says Charlie, wincing. "I knew it would get me here and that you or Madam Pomfrey would be around to fix me up. I didn't want to have to answer any questions from my mates about why I was doing a fire bladder expression by myself."

Ellen murmurs a pain-reduction charm. Charlie sighs with relief.

"I don't want to give you a pain potion or do a complete numbing until I see how bad this is," says Ellen. "Hermione, could you do a Lumos over here? I need more light."

"How did this happen?" I ask, holding my wand close enough to give more light without getting in the way. I am trying to sound clinical instead of queasy, as I look at Charlie's mangled hand.

"I stunned the Swedish short-snout and did the expression," explains Charlie, grimacing as Ellen turns his hand and does another diagnostic charm. "I let him revive on his own, watching to make sure that he was okay. He took off, but not before taking a potshot at me. Since I drained him, he couldn't spit much fire. He doubled back and I did a Repelling charm. It worked except that he had enough momentum going for his tail to whip through. I raised my hand to protect my face. You can guess the rest of the story."

"I can see the rest of the story," says Ellen. "You have broken bones and he ripped through tendons. I am going to hover you back to the medic station and you are going to lie quietly while I put your hand back together. I hope this isn't your wand hand."

"It isn't," says Charlie. He wipes his face with his good hand. "I'd be in serious trouble if it was."

Ellen floats Charlie to the medical station. In short order, Charlie is situated on the cot and his hand is resting, palm side up on a table that I configured from some leaves. Ellen takes an assortment of vials and instruments from her bag and organizes them on a tray. She casts a sterilizing charm over everything. It is going to be my job to hand her the things that she needs.

Charlie swallows the Relaxation potion.

"I want you to stay relaxed while I work on your hand," she explains. "You may even doze off, which is perfectly okay." Ellen looks at me. "I need a vial of Numbing potion."

I check the tray and spot the right one. I pick it up, open it, and hold it out to Ellen. She casts a Dispensing spell and the potion floats out of the vial, surrounds Charlie's mangled hand and disappears.

With far more patience than I think I have ever had, Ellen repairs Charlie's hand. She deals with one bone, one tendon, and one muscle or bit of skin at a time.

It's a fascinating learning experience, other than wishing I could sneak in a dose of Anti-Nausea potion for myself without seeming like a wimp.

* * *

The fliers have been at it for another hour. Ellen has finished working on Charlie's hand and is letting him sleep for a while. She says she has to wait to see if the potions she gave him finish the job of repairing all of the nerves and connective tissues and it will be a few hours before she will know.

Remus, Tonks, and I are sniping at them from the woods. Roger and Limnoreia are across the field and shooting fake stunners. We're using targeting spells that won't hurt anyone, but will be recorded on their badges as hits. I've taken two hits this round. I think one was from Oliver and another from one of the twins. At least I'm not dead this time, which is more than I can say for Bill. I think the Fabulous Flying Weasley Brothers ganged up on him. I don't think he minds, since it is giving him a chance to sit with Charlie and keep an eye on him.

Aha! I see Jean and Mark circling around, positioning themselves for a strafing run on our fake Voldemort. Remus has a big grin on his face as he fires at Jean, scoring a hit.

Unless I'm mistaken, I think Jean just yelled a few curse words at him. I hear a familiar whistling sound as a Bludger flies overhead. It is headed right for Remus and he casts a Repelling charm, which doesn't seem to be working. Remus ducks and the Bludger whizzes around a tree and does a loop behind him. Remus scoots behind some shrubs and the Bludger follows him, speeding up.

That Bludger is actually pursuing Remus. It has him targeted and is flying through all of the blocking spells that Remus is casting at it.

He's running as fast as he can with all of the underbrush, but it is following right after him. It should have caught up with him by now, except that it is slowing down and curving up and around a branch. It is aiming right at his face.

I run towards him as fast as I can, because Remus is about to get a badly broken nose.

Tonks is coming from the other direction and we meet halfway and stop just in time to see Remus get Bludgered smack in the middle of his forehead.

Now, that was interesting.

"Did you see that?" asks Tonks, amazed.

"I've never seen a Bludger do that before," I comment, impressed.

The pressure is off since Remus didn't get hurt. He looks embarrassed. So would I, if I had what looks like an imprint from a pair of really big lips on my forehead.

"What the heck did they do to that Bludger?" asks Remus, rubbing his forehead and looking up at the sky. Jean and Mark are waving at him and laughing. "It was right in front of my face and the next thing I know; it has a giant pair of lips and is sucking the skin right off my forehead."

"At least it hit your face and not elsewhere," says Tonks, amused. "I'd have to be jealous and I'd rather not be competing with a Bludger blow job."

Remus turns bright red and Tonks is laughing at him.

I snicker and sneak off and go back to playing Death Eater. I will have to compliment Mike and Mark on their new invention. Maybe they'll call it the BludgeSucker.

That reminds me that I wanted to ask Jean's advice about oral sex for my To Do To Severus list.

I wish he'd get here. There are deep shadows in the woods and the sun will be setting in a few hours. He's really late.

* * *

We are taking a break. I'm relieved that all of the boys seem to be getting along, regardless of House affiliations and bad history. There is a box of sandwiches and a tub full of different kinds of bottled water, juice, iced tea, and soft drinks. Both of them refill automatically, keeping plenty of food and drinks available for everybody.

Zabini hands me a bottle of water and takes a pumpkin juice for himself.

"I understand that you're taking advanced Potions at Avalon College," he says, twisting off the cap from his drink. "How is that going?"

"It's an excellent program," I reply, transfiguring a fallen tree branch into a bench long enough to hold four people.

"Draco said the program is longer than his, which will take four years," comments Zabini, sitting down.

"It takes six years to complete, but I'll end up with a college degree that is recognized in the Muggle world and the equivalent of a Potions Mastery."

"Living in hiding, I've had plenty of time to think about the future," says Zabini, sounding rather philosophical as he surveys the landscape. "After having to run away from my family to keep from being forced into becoming a Death Eater, I'd like to start over somewhere away from them. Avalon College sounds like a possibility. If I went there, I'd want to do a Potions Mastery."

"It must have been awful for you to have to deal with your family situation," I reply, conversationally.

"Yeah," says Zabini. "I was fortunate to have a way out or I'd be sporting a Dark Mark and kowtowing to Lord Voldemort. So, how does Avalon compare to Hogwarts?"

I can tell there's one topic he doesn't want to talk about.

"It is very different," I explain. I see Draco is coming to join us, so I budge over to make room. "There is a lot of Muggle technology and science used at Avalon that isn't even a possibility at Hogwarts."

"Are you two talking about the Potions Program at Avalon?" asks Draco, twisting the cap off a bottle of Coke.

"I'm considering my options for when we win," says Zabini, sounding like he's got inside knowledge.

"The Potions Program at Avalon would be a good choice for you," Draco comments. "Hermione managed to test out of the first semester of classes. She's been doing independent studies along with the regular classes, so she's ahead of her year mates."

"They'll let you take tests without taking the classes?" asks Zabini, puzzled.

"Some of the first year classes are repeats of things we already learned at Hogwarts," I reply. "You can take proficiency tests for the entry level courses. If you know advanced material, Professor Boch will let you take independent study classes so you can get through the material and the program faster. I'm taking summer classes, so I can finish the program in four and a half years."

"That's good," says Zabini. "Money might be an issue for me."

"Avalon has scholarships and financial aid you can apply for," I offer. "We could put you in touch with people who could help you apply."

I look up when I feel the hand on my shoulder.

"Hermione," says Bill, looking worried, "Ellen needs you back at the medical station."

"I'll catch you guys later," I tell Zabini and Draco.

I immediately get to my feet and follow Bill, who is moving at a slow run.

Ellen is sitting next to Charlie's cot. His hand is unwrapped and she's examining it. In the light from the bluebell flame in the jars floating around the medical station, I can see how red Charlie's hand looks. I immediately start fumbling through my pocket.

"How is your hand?" I ask Charlie.

"It looks like there are a few problems that the potions didn't take care of," says Charlie, looking flushed from fever.

"An infection is setting in," says Ellen, in her dispassionate clinical voice. "Dragons carry all sorts of infectious agents on their scales and I'm afraid I wasn't able to get rid of all of them when I cleaned the wounds. The potions I have on hand aren't strong enough for this."

I pull out a vial of the Virgo Curato and hold it up.

"This should do the job," I say, looking down at Charlie who looks miserable.

"I agree," replies Ellen. "This would be a good opportunity to test it out."

"You do know that you're like a big brother to me?" I ask Charlie, smiling at him affectionately.

"Sure," says Charlie, looking confused. "You've become a part of our family."

"I need to place the vial in your good hand," I explain. "The Virgo Curato works best when given into the hand of a person one of the partners cares about. I'm quite fond of you and so it should take care of the infection and finish the repair work on your hand."

Charlie looks at me in surprise and smiles. He looks over my shoulder at Bill, who is standing right behind me. Charlie starts to laugh.

"Bill, you sly dog," he says. "You know Mum and Dad are going to have some pretty strong opinions about this."

"They do have strong opinions," teases Bill. "I still think I'll come out of it in one piece."

"Hold out your hand, Charlie," instructs Ellen. "You need to accept the potion. I'll open it for you and you'll take the full dose."

Charlie holds out his right hand and I place the vial of emerald green potion in his palm. He closes his fingers around it, symbolically accepting the vial. He opens his hand and Ellen takes the vial and unscrews the lid. She hands it back to Charlie who tips the contents into his mouth and swallows. He holds up the empty vial and looks at it for a moment before he turns his head towards Bill and me.

"It tastes like spices in rosewater," says Charlie, thoughtfully. "I've never had a drink of rosewater, so I don't know why I think it tastes like that. It tastes really good and I think its making me sleepy." Charlie cracks a huge yawn and his head drops back down onto the pillow.

"From what I've read," says Ellen, "you will sleep until the healing is complete, however long that takes."

"Iss okay," says Charlie, closing his eyes and settling his lanky frame more comfortably on the cot.

"Before you go to sleep," I say softly, bending down to whisper in Charlie's ear, "I feel obligated to tell you that it wasn't Bill."

Charlie opens one eye.

"It wassn't?" he slurs, blearily. "Ron, then?"

"Nope," I reply with a chuckle. "Would you believe Severus Snape?"

Both eyes shoot open and Charlie almost manages to look shocked before sleep hits him, his eyes close and features relax.

"We're gonna have a talk about his intentions toward my sissss…." murmurs Charlie.

"I think I'll warn Severus," says Bill, chuckling.

"Don't," says Ellen, mischievously. "Just let me know when Charlie is going to do it so I can watch."

"Me, too." I'd like to see that one.

* * *

"Let's try four layers," says Draco, sitting on a camp seat he transfigured from a small log hovered out of the woods.

"I agree," says Roger, accepting a refill of his coffee cup from Remus. "Four layers is a good place to start. If adding the extra layers of shielding from the practice orbs can slow him down enough that he will inhale more of the Happy-Sleepy before the Death Eaters break him out, it will help."

I'm picking at my turkey wrap sandwich. It is 9 pm and the sun will be setting, soon. We've had a full afternoon and evening of practicing strafing runs at our Voldemort statue and playing at being Death Eaters. We're waiting for full darkness to get here at 10 pm. We'll have one more practice round and then call it a night. After all, it is 4 am for the British contingent. I passed around Pepper-Up potion to most of them about two hours ago.

Severus still isn't here.

Something must have happened.

The something was probably a summons.

I'm not going to worry. I can't do anything about it.

I am going to worry. I look down at my turkey wrap and realize that I am mangling it.

Harry is sitting next to me. He's talking with Mark and Mike about how they modified the BludgeSucker.

"I added charms to get it to lock onto a target and pursue it until it strikes," says Mike. "When we do the real thing, it won't have the lips. It'll chase them until it can whack them. It was strictly for purposes of practice that we added the lips."

"A very nice touch," I comment, thinking about the lip imprint on my bum.

Fred leans forward and pokes the campfire with a stick. "George and I have talked it over and we'd like to discuss selling your Kissing Bludger."

"BludgeSucker," I correct them.

"I like both names," says Mark. "The choice of which to choose would depend on the market you want to sell the product to. I don't think of it as being very romantic."

"Surely no one would think that a Bludger that sucks like that would be romantic?" asks Mike, looking worried.

"Depends on how lonely a bloke is on a Saturday night," says Fred.

"Eeew."

I think we all said that.

Of course the twins want to sell the BludgeSucker. Both of them are sporting lip marks. Fred's is right between his shoulder blades. George took off his shirt before he got nailed and has one on his left pectoral, perfectly formed around his nipple.

Tonks bursts into laughter and Remus frowns. Hers is on the fabric covering her right breast. Remus did not appreciate seeing that Bludger plant those huge lips on Tonk's breast and start sucking away.

"That's my creative guy," says Jean proudly. "One hundred years from now, you'll be remembered for inventing a new sex toy."

"Our legacy for future generations," sighs Mike, happily.

"I wonder how Ellen will feel about her husband being associated with a sex toy?" says Mark, wondering.

I suspect Ellen will have strong opinions about that; I just don't know what they will be.

Mike and Jean are sitting together on a bench she transfigured from some rocks. He has his arm around her shoulders and leans down to kiss her on the temple.

I wonder if Severus would ever do that in public? He did kiss me in front of Draco and Jean. I decide to be jealous of Jean and Mike.

Of course, if Severus has been summoned by the Dark Lord, I may never find out. I decide not to be jealous and go back to worrying.

Break time is almost over and everyone gets up to goand practice hitting Voldy with multiple orbs and seeing how much time it takes to break through all of them from the outside. I notice that Roger and Limnoreia are talking to Bill and Remus. The four of them go off to the cabin. I wonder what's going on?

"There isn't any point in wasting the practice orbs this way," says Harry. "If someone outside of the field can break through three layers with one shot, we won't gain enough time advantage to make it worth risking the fliers getting close enough to hit him with multiple orbs."

"I agree," says Pucey. "We have to prolong our exposure by getting so close to the bonfire. It makes it easier for the Death Eaters to spot us and pick us off."

"A good idea that doesn't work," says George, slapping Ron on the back.

"Not that we've ever had any of those," says Fred.

"Never happens," says Charlie, from the edge of the crowd.

"Hey," says Ron, as Charlie comes up and gives him a poke in the arm with what should be his injured hand. "You look a lot better, mate."

"I am better," says Charlie. "Thanks to Hermione's potion, Ellen's cleared me to return to _activity as tolerated._"

"Hermione's potion?" asks Ron, looking puzzled.

"Yeah," says Charlie, looking at me. "By the way, Ellen wants you to go back to the medical station. Professor Snape just arrived."

I am so relieved that I could melt into a puddle on the ground. I turn to leave.

"Remus and Bill want the rest of us to meet over by the Voldemort statue and get the bonfire going," adds Charlie. "They want to try something."

* * *

I reach the medical station and see Severus talking to Ellen, Roger, and Limnoreia. I stay in the shadows for a few moments until Roger and Limnoreia walk off in the general direction of the bonfire.

Stepping out of the shadows, I know that Ellen can see me. She points Severus in my direction.

He joins me in the copse of trees. It feels so good to have his arms around me. He is looking at me so intensely. He is upset about something.

"Are you all right?" I ask, brushing his hair back.

"I am unharmed," replies Severus, pulling me closer and holding me tight. "I was summoned and could not leave any sooner without attracting suspicion."

"What was it about?" It is so dark here in the woods that I can hardly see his face.

"There is no time to explain, now," says Severus softly. He pulls the combs out of my hair and it falls out of the snood. He buries his face in my hair. "You have the most remarkable hair," he murmurs. "It is like a living thing with curls that wrap around my fingers. I remember how you looked in my bed. You were beneath me and your hair spread out around your head like a halo of gold and brown. I find myself thinking of that at the oddest times."

Something must have happened, but he isn't ready to talk about it. It isn't typical for Severus to talk like this. Not that I'm complaining.

"I am spending the night with you, even if it can only be a few hours," whispers Severus, as he dips his head to mine. I open my mouth to meet his.

I've never paid much attention to the texture of a tongue, before. The top of it has a roughness to it, a nubby velvet texture. The underside is smooth. I can taste a hint of fire whisky on his breath. He has stubble on his chin. He has a dark beard and by mid-afternoon, it is as though it is casting a shadow through his fair skin.

This feels so good.

"I've missed you," I whisper into his mouth. I tilt my head so that I can kiss the side of his mouth, across the stubble of his beard to his chin. I want so badly to kiss his neck, but the high collar is in the way. If weren't so busy cupping his face with my hands, I'd take a shot at unbuttoning.

"Want you," he whispers back, his hands moving down my back. Severus slides his hands up under the back of my t-shirt and then down so that they slip beneath the waist of my jeans and into my knickers. "Love you." His fingers splay across my bum as he explores and I swear I can feel it all the way up my spine and down into…

"Snape," says a familiar voice.

"Merlin's hairy arse," I sputter and pull back, seriously disrupting the action.

Severus head whips to the left where we see the silvery glow of a Patronus. It is a huge crocodile that makes the oddest ticking sound.

"It's time to stop snogging your girlfriend and come over to the bonfire. We're setting the wards around the Dark Lord statue."

The gigantic floating reptile disappears.

"Jean is wrong about one thing," says Severus, bending down for one more kiss before we rejoin the others.

"What's that?" I ask, pulling him back for another. I'm not quite ready to let go. I've been waiting for days to get my hands on Severus.

"You are not my girlfriend," he says, with a hint of desperation. "You are my _intended_."

"Oh, yes," I sigh, smitten. Romantic. Severus is romantic.

"SNAPE!"

The crocodile is back. And that odd ticking sound.

Damn.

* * *

Jean is giving us an amused look as we stroll as casually as we can into the clearing with the bonfire and Voldemort statue. I'm deliberately not looking at Severus, so I don't know if he's smirking at Jean or glaring. Both are very real possibilities.

Limnoreia is saying something to the crowd.

"We have an idea that we want to try out," she says.

Limnoreia's hair looks like she's been running through the underbrush and the shoulder of her t-shirt is stained blue. She must have been hit with a practice orb. It goes nicely with the huge red lip print on her other shoulder.

"One of the biggest issues that we will have to contend with during the attack is the warding around the Malfoy estate," she announces. "We have the best ward breakers you can find anywhere on our side, myself included."

There is a round of applause and Limnoreia takes a bow. "No point in false modesty," she laughs. "We have another possibility, but need to do some testing of our idea against layered wards. We would like everyone to add the strongest ward charms they know to this area where we have the Dark Lord target."

"Be sure to stand outside of the area being warded so we don't have anyone caught inside," announces Remus, waving his wand. A glowing yellow circle appears over the ground, with the Voldemort statue in the center. Everyone works their way outside of the circle and starts discussing wards.

"Any wards you can add that are specific to Death Eaters would be helpful," says Limnoreia, joining us at the side of the circle.

"I can add the ones that the Dark Lord is most likely to use," replies Severus, tapping his lower lip with his index finger. "With the exception of sacrificial wards, of course. I am willing to spill a little blood to set a blood ward, if you want to go to that extreme."

"We do," says Limnoreia. "Check with Bill and Jean. They were talking about doing blood warding. You could do a layering."

* * *

I hold my hand over the grass and let the blood welling in my palm spill in droplets to the ground. Severus is chanting as I do so. This is as close to a willing sacrifice as we can possibly come. Limnoreia says that since I am nearer to innocence than probably anyone else here, this should be the strongest ward any of us could set.

Isn't it just ducky that my sex life is such common knowledge among members of the Order? On the other hand, the way that Zabini and Pucey are looking on, they must figure I'm a virgin. That would make the wards even more potent.

I wonder if they are planning to stay at the apartment building tonight? What they think if they see Professor Snape walking up the stairs with me, going into my apartment, and leaving my apartment in the morning?

That will teach them a valuable lesson. I'm not sure what the lesson is, but it will be valuable.

"That should finish it," says Limnoreia, watching carefully. I withdraw my hand and she does a healing charm to close the cut in my palm.

"Thanks, Hermione," says Roger. He looks down at Limnoreia, his visage hawk like, given the bonfire highlighting his profile. "This will be the strongest set of wards I've been tested against."

"Are you ready?" she asks, holding out her hand. Roger takes it and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"Never more ready than I am now," he says, enthusiastically. "I'm going to go to where the fliers are gathered beyond the edge of the clearing. You can tell everyone here what's going on after I take off."

Severus and I join Ellen, Bill, Mike, Tonks, and Remus at the edge of the field. All of the fliers are to the south, preparing to take off for the full darkness practice. Before they take to the skies, Roger is going to do something to try and break the wards around the Voldemort statue. We are halfway between the wooden Voldemort and the fliers. We can barely see them in the darkness from this vantage point.

I have a feeling that something very exciting is about to happen.

Limnoreia joins us. After we see what Roger does to the wards, the rest of us are going to scatter and play Death Eater.

Off in the distance, one shadowy form breaks off from the group and is running in our direction.

The shape changes.

I can see wings. Huge wings. Not webbed and leathery like a dragon's wings. Feathered, like a bird's.

The cry of a giant bird rolls over us and echoes in the hills. If a hawk were the size of a double-decker bus, it could make a sound like that.

There is lightning and thunder in a cloudless sky.

A raptor of proportions never seen outside of legends is passing overhead.

It swoops and turns to make a pass over the Voldemort statue.

I can feel the warlike cry of the legendary bird in my very bones.

Lightning issues from a predatory claw that could pick up a buffalo and never even notice the weight.

Thunder follows as the lightning strikes the wards we set and reinforced with my blood. The strongest wards we could set without a human sacrifice.

A flash of yellow light and the wards are destroyed in an explosion of sound like shattering glass. All of the wards. None are left.

We all look up to gaze in astonishment at the bird circling overhead.

A triumphant screech combines with our cheers and inspires us all.

"Isn't he magnificent?" laughs Limnoreia, arms raised to the sky in sheer delight. There is love in her voice.

The fliers take to the sky and all of us ground troops scatter to shoot at them from woods..

The dress rehearsal for the Battle of Malfoy Manor is underway.

* * *

Author's Notes

Any thoughts about Jean's Patronus?

Thank you to my reviewers: o0morgana0o, Lipasnape, BuckeyeBelle, Yasmin, Excessivelyperky, Oscarxena, MollysSister, Ginny123, Severessa, Lyndie578, Anastigmat, Wynnleaf, Sylphides, Darque Hart, Seth7, Graynavarre, CharmedForce, Arynwy, Laurenke1, Yapyap, T wrecks, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Squeaker19450, Koliber, Lifeasanamazon, Jade2099. Murgy31, Persevero, Droxy, Keske, Katmurphy.723, Blue artemis, Kirien, Martyjeannine, Notwritten, Klschmidt, Rinny08, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Wati, Lovechilde, Arsinoe de Blassenville, MoreThanSirius, SiriusDesires, Kirien, T, Bubblemilktea, Erytha, Allison, Mela, Sunsethill, Princesssfiona, Chaotiziaet, KimJo, Vestal Harlot, Emikae, Duj, Calophi, Maddie50, and Latinachikita.


	97. Chapter 97

Thank you to Julia who spots the Americanisms that invariably end up in the story and for her suggestions on how to replace them. Katyes continues to amaze me with how she has stuck with this long, long story. She's translated 85 chapters into German. Thank you to a few People-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named who offered input into this chapter. You know who you are.

* * *

June 12th, 1999  
Countdown: 8 days, 1 hour, and 45 minutes until sunset  
Severus

Occasionally, I find the translation charms my father invented useful. This is one of those times.

The four seventh years who are taking the N.E.W.T. examination in Ancient Runes are the most serious and accomplished scholars among my Slytherins. They are determined to do well in their examinations and asked me to test them with difficult questions so that they would be better prepared.

My father's spells for translating Egyptian hieroglyphs are not taught at Hogwarts. They are not yet in the public domain and are subject to a licensing fee. My only inheritance from my father is a file full of patents, giving me control over the whole lot. If I choose to authorize my students to use them during the Ancient Runes examination, I am perfectly within my rights to do so.

My Slytherins will outscore Filius' Ravenclaws!

If I had a mustache, I would be twirling it.

"Five points to Slytherin," I announce as the last of the students duplicate the difficult wand movements precisely. "Since Professor Babbling does not teach this particular spell and it is still under license, your examiner may challenge you on its use. I shall provide each of you with a note confirming that you are authorized to use it."

"Wow," says Claudia Bellingsworth, as the hieroglyphs reshape themselves into words and phrases. The students must still do the difficult work of turning them into meaningful sentences.

"This is much faster than the conversion spell Professor Babbling taught us," says Sydney Wyndsong, triumphantly. "We'll have a real advantage over the other students."

"Make the best use of it," I instruct them. Our time is up.

The students file out and I am now free to Portkey to Wisconsin. It is mid-evening here and therefore mid-afternoon there. I have missed some of the action, but there is plenty to come.

I make my way to my quarters. My travel bag is already packed and my dueling garb is freshly cleaned and hanging in my wardrobe. The Dark Lord has been informed that I am meeting with Draco today for another rehearsal for his initiation. Instead, I shall aid my compatriots in honing their skills for the battle during which we shall take him down.

Then, I shall get laid.

I am anxious to see Hermione. I would be delighted to see her under any circumstances, but knowing that there is sex planned for tonight enhances my anticipation. Not that I view her as a sex object. She is hardly that. Well, yes she is. But, she is my sex object.

I wonder if she views me as a sex object? I certainly hope so.

Not that we are objects to each other.

This is ridiculous. I am arguing semantics with myself when I should be changing clothes.

I am buttoning up the jacket to my dueling clothes when my arm begins to burn.

Shit, shit, damn, damn, damn!

I hurriedly change back into my teaching robes and grab the pouch that contains my reduced Death Eater robes. I look back longingly at the travel bag and send my Patronus to tell Albus that I have been summoned.

Looking down at the vial in my hand, I cannot help but mentally curse the Dark Lord for summoning me now and ruining my plans for tonight. Perhaps a half dose would do the job. I open the vial and carefully sip half of the contents. Ima LeDrox will be there and I must be prepared.

Bugger it all.

* * *

"Welcome, my son," says Voldemort, his voice low-pitched and solemn. He holds out his hand and I take it so that I might kiss his ring. Duty done, I raise my eyes to meet his. For some reason I cannot fathom, the Dark Lord takes only a cursory look.

I am allowed to rise and take my seat among the Death Eaters who are sitting around the table in Rutherford's formal dining room. We have some of the Dark Lord's most powerful Death Eaters here. The Dark Lord is at the head of the table, with Nagini winding herself around his chair and resting her head on his shoulder. At least he has no hair to impede her view of the rest of us.

The Lestranges are there, in all their insane glory. Bellatrix has brushed her hair today, tying dozens of pink ribbons in it to match her skin tight satin dress. With her prematurely lined face and excessive face paint, it makes her look like she is dressed up for a party at the asylum.

Rastaban's eyes dart around the room, looking for enemies. Of course, if I were sitting next to Fenrir Greyback, I would be on the alert, too.

Rudolphus seems calm enough. He is looking down at the knife in his hand. He has a bad habit of running his thumb across the blade and cutting himself. He likes to suck on the blood. Every once in a while, he lets the blood puddle a bit and holds his thumb out to Bella to lick clean.

Lucius is sitting at the Dark Lord's right hand. Ima LeDrox is sitting to his left. I have been given the place next to her, with Pettigrew across from me. The Lestranges and Greyback are sitting, interestingly enough, on the wrong side of the salt.

I am deeply grateful that dinner is not being served. Dining with the Lestranges and Greyback usually involves large haunches of undercooked meat and would be enough to put me off my food for days.

In contrast, Lucius and Ima look as aristocratic as ever. Lucius is wearing tailored summer gray robes. Ima is dressed in sapphire silk. Her modest dress is of the Regency style and the empire waist emphasizes her graceful curves. Her dark hair is arranged in ringlets and curls, held back by matching sapphire combs.

My attention is drawn back to the Dark Lord.

"Severus has been working on identifying the spells that will allow my empty shell to be reanimated for the purpose of appearing during our Last Stand," says the Dark Lord with a chuckle. Everyone else wisely joins in. "It must appear to all that Lord Voldemort has been slain beyond all possibility of return. I shall actually be an infant in the care of my new father."

The Dark Lord smiles affectionately at Lucius, who looks immensely proud and gives the rest of us a decidedly superior look as his eyes move down the table.

I bow my head respectfully in response. Biological father trumps godfather. I am lower in the pecking order than Lucius. I notice Ima doing the same thing.

"What have you found for us, Severus?" asks the Dark Lord.

"I have been studying several possibilities, my Lord," I reply. "The magic that reanimates the shell of your body will be similar to that which creates an Inferius. It is a more sophisticated version of the same magic. It will allow the caster more control over muscle movements so that your shell can appear to wield a wand. The magic that issues through the wand will appear to be yours, but will actually come from a Death Eater of your choice. He will channel his magic through your wand."

Even Bellatrix is paying close attention to what I am saying, instead of listening to the voices inside her head.

"Your shell will lack true consciousness and speech," I continue. "Therefore, your appearance during the battle must be brief. Your shell and the wand it carries must also be completely destroyed in order to prevent it from being analyzed and the magic detected."

"That will be absolutely necessary," comments the Dark Lord. "I want Potter to be the one who appears to kill me so that the prophecy appears to be fulfilled."

"I have an idea that can accomplish both, Master," I reply. "There are some members of the Order, particularly Moody, who have advocated that Potter be taught specific Dark Arts that could be used to kill you in your next encounter. I intend to encourage Moody in that thinking so that he will teach Potter to cast Fiendfyre."

"Excellent choice," says the Dark Lord, thoughtfully. "Fiendfyre will reduce this shell and a fake wand to ash. It will make it impossible to analyze the remains for even as much as a magical signature."

"Precisely so," adds Lucius, slyly. "It is ideal for our purposes. The world will be convinced that our Lord is dead and gone, never to return."

"We shall have lulled them into a false sense of security, once again," declares the Dark Lord.

There is laughter around the table. Bella tips her head to the side, apparently listening to voices from sources the rest of us cannot see.

Ima nods with approval and smiles at me. I offer the slightest of smiles in return. It would not do to be perceived as flirting by this group.

"It is difficult to control Fiendfyre once it is cast," comments Rudolphus, looking up from his bloody thumb. "We risk our own Death Eaters who will be present during the attack."

The Dark Lord decides to answer this challenge.

"Fiendfyre is rarely used in battle because of the skill it takes to cast it with surgical precision," replies the Dark Lord, moving into a lecture. "I am capable of using it in this manner. Most of you would be able to do so, if you had enough practice. Potter is a powerful enough wizard. Mad-Eye Moody has the same skills in Dark Arts as almost any of us at this table, though he would deny the truth of it. Moody could teach him to use Fiendfyre effectively."

"But why would he?" counters Rudolphus. "Fiendfyre could kill a dozen Death Eaters at one time. Potter would have no reason to hold back when he could kill several at one time."

"Not if Order members are engaging the Death Eaters who arrive before our Lord," I interject, looking at the Dark Lord. "The scenario calls for our Lord to arrive to rescue his Death Eaters who are losing an encounter with the Order. Potter will not cast Fiendfyre at the crowd and kill his own friends and allies."

"I have been in Potter's head," declares the Dark Lord, in a tone that indicates he is ending the discussion. "Potter will do what is necessary to kill me, but does not have the capacity to kill his friends in an effort to get to me. I am satisfied with Severus' plan."

Bellatrix responds by sucking on Rudolphus' thumb.

* * *

Ima takes my arm as we walk down the moonlit path winding through the rose garden of the Rutherford estate. The scent of roses lends fragrance to the night breeze and our cloaks flutter in the gentle wind. There is a bench beneath an oak tree on the west side of the path. We stop and sit, Ima carefully arranging her skirts. I reach over and take her hand. She squeezes mine and smiles.

I shall play my part as well as I am able.

"It is good to get out of that house in pleasant company," says Ima. "It is always a pleasure to be in the presence of our Lord, but some of our brothers and sisters of the Circle can be a bit wearing over time."

"I do not envy you having to put up with Pettigrew and the Lestranges when you are at Malfoy Manor," I reply, genuinely sympathetic. I would become screamingly insane if I had to listen to them, day after day.

"Do you remember how brilliant Bella was during the first war?" Ima asks, sadly. "I envied her power and talent with Dark Magic. I spent as much time as I could with her, learning whatever she was willing to teach."

"The Lestrange family had much to offer, then," I reply, remembering back to the days of my youth. "They provided training to all of us new recruits. Some of the finest dueling I have ever done was against Rastaban. He had a gift for showing us newcomers how to stretch our abilities and tap into reserves we did not know that we had."

"They are shadows of themselves, now," murmurs Ima, regretfully. "I know it sounds terrible to say so when they have sacrificed so much. When I think about it, I am deeply grateful that I was able to hide in Europe and that you had a place at Hogwarts. It could easily have been different. It could have been us in Azkaban with them."

Ima shudders more than the cool air would warrant. I put my arm around her and she leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Azkaban and the Dementors destroyed them," I reply, softly. "Before Azkaban, it was a pleasure and a privilege to watch any of them in battle. They were in their prime in every way."

"That has all changed," says Ima, shaking her head. "I remember a few months ago when our Lord gave Bella and Rudolphus two of the old women Rutherford kidnapped. They couldn't brew what he wanted and he had no use for them because they weren't virgins. They were supposed to execute them and destroy the bodies."

"I had just returned and was hiding in our tower in Wales," continues Ima in a pained voice. "They returned from the deed covered in blood. Those witches deserved a clean execution. Their remains should have been Transfigured into wood and burned. Instead, they were abused and tortured to death. Rudolphus bragged that he had a contest with Bella to see who could blast a corpse into the smallest bits. Killing has become fun for them, nothing more than a messy form of recreation. They dishonor their victims, themselves, and our Lord in the process."

"The Dark Lord is right in his decision to end their lives when he begins his new one," I whisper in return.

"The longer I live in their company, the more I realize that they are insane and can only damage what we are trying to accomplish," confides Ima. She looks up at me and I can see sincerity in her eyes and expression. "You understand who and what Death Eaters are supposed to be. It is one of the reasons I have always admired you. You never participated in blood sport or revels. You understood that execution is never a pleasure, but a duty."

Ima reaches up and runs her fingers along the side of my face.

"You have brewed poisons at our Lord's command," she says, the light of her fanaticism in her eyes. "I have carried out assassinations and executions at his command. We honor our victims by giving them a clean death. What we do is for the good of the wizarding world and not for some perverse personal satisfaction."

"I have never known a moment of pleasure in any victim's death." I can say that truthfully. I have only known pain and regret for those who may have died because of poisons I brewed. "There is duty and nothing else."

"Exactly so," says Ima, seizing my hands. "I have had other Death Eaters ask how I could become the Dark Lord's assassin. After all, I was raised to be a Pureblood gentlewoman. At heart, I am a scholar who would like to spend the rest of her life researching obscure magicks. When I became a Death Eater, I knew I might be expected to kill to further our Lord's cause.

"I resolved that if I must do a thing, I would do it well. I would do it in the most honorable way possible. Just as you perfected your poisons, I learned my skills so that the kill would be clean. I carefully planned each strike so that it would be swift and merciful. If I take any pride in my work, it is because I resolved to be effective and efficient. That is how I honor my victim.

"I knew you would understand," she says, with a desperate smile. "You, of all people, could understand."

I understand that I have killed for the Dark Lord and regretted my actions. Ima LeDrox has killed for the Dark Lord and takes pride that she did so efficiently. She is not insane like the Lestranges. She is unrepentantly Dark. She fully believes that she has made the right and proper choice. There was a time that I believed the same thing. The Dark is seductive and she is the living embodiment of it.

I put my arms around her and draw her close. She rests her head against me.

"We must win," I whisper into her soft hair. "That is the only way we can end this bloodshed. At least, the Dark Lord has found a means to be a part of the wizarding world so that we can achieve our conquest from within. We have hope of achieving our aims through persuasion, instead of at the tip of a wand."

"We must unite the wizarding world," says Ima, clinging to me. "It is the only way to address the Muggle problem. So many of our people are isolated and don't know what the Muggles are doing to our world. Their filthy technology is spoiling the water, soil, and air. Their numbers overrun our resources. They do not care for the world as we do. Their wars encroach on our communities. If we do not stop them, they will use up everything and poison the world that was meant to be ours.

"With our Lord's guidance," she says, wistfully, "we can remake this world the way it was always intended to be. After we have the wizarding world, we can begin to move on the Muggle world. We will cull the herds and reduce the numbers of those animals to a level that does not strain the planet. They shall serve us by working the fields and doing the labor that is suited to their primitive minds and magicless existence. We shall rule them as their rightful masters. We will create the paradise we are entitled to as the most superior beings of this world."

"You have a clear vision of our future," I murmur, silently appalled at her vision of killing off billions of people to achieve paradise.

"It is our Lord's vision," she sighs. "I have adopted it as my own, because I can see the rightness and justice of it." She sits up and looks at me enticingly. "Shall we pursue it together?"

I laugh, teasingly.

"Shall we pursue each other, first?" I ask, gazing into Ima's dark eyes. She straightens up and looks at me primly.

"I would be most delighted," she says with great dignity, followed by a chuckle. "I will be guarding Narcissa on the evening of the initation. After the initiation is complete, I will be free. Perhaps we could spend some time together?"

"I would be pleased to spend the rest of the evening with you," I reply. "Will you be allowed to leave the Manor?"

"No," says Ima, regretfully. "The Dark Lord wants Narcissa and Lucius to be under guard at all times. Besides, my name has not been cleared and I cannot officially return to Britain and appear in public until then."

"We can meet in the library at the Manor," I comment. "The Lestranges rarely use the library, so we could have privacy there."

"My suite of rooms has a sitting room," Ima explains. "It would be suitable and I have adjusted the wards for greater privacy. I am so very tired of having the Lestranges or Pettigrew bursting in on me unannounced. I would very much like to have time alone with you."

I bow my head for a moment, as if embarrassed.

"If we are to take this any farther, I feel I owe you an explanation of certain things," I say, reluctantly.

Ima looks at me, surprised.

"Of course, Severus," she replies. "If there is something you want to talk about."

I look away and speak.

"You have been with the Death Eaters long enough to have heard that I am unable…" I allow that statement to remain unfinished.

Her head drops and she looks away for a moment, thinking. Ima reaches over and touches my chin and turning my head so that I will look at her.

"I have heard rumors," she acknowledges, nodding. "I also know that truth among Death Eaters can be a fluid thing, twisted to the advantage of others."

"I do not know what you have heard, but I can guess some of it," I reply, shaking my head. I must play this carefully and convincingly. I am ashamed of what I did years ago and allow it to show in my expression and voice.

"Shortly after I was given the honor of the Dark Mark," I begin, "I felt pressured to join a revel. I believed that I would be thought less of a man and would not be respected by the others, if I did not. The truth of it is that I was revolted by what I was doing and could not complete the act."

"That is hardly anything to be concerned about," replies Ima, reassuringly. "I would be far more dismayed if that was the sort of thing you enjoyed."

"There was nothing I enjoyed about that event," I snort, "But, it revealed my problem in a very public way."

"It is still an issue?" asks Ima, gently.

She searches my eyes, but I do not detect any sign of Legilimency from her.

"Yes," I reply, pretending to be embarrassed.

"Then we shall work on it," says Ima, simply.

"You should not have to settle for a poor lover," I answer, gruffly.

"Then we shall work on that, too," says Ima, sounding self-assured. She draws my head down for a kiss.

A kiss from a woman who knows how to kiss. When I raise my head, I realize that I have not been thinking about Hermione and thoroughly enjoyed that kiss. Ima is too attractive, too Dark, and altogether too tempting. She is the living embodiment of everything that drew me to Dark Magic and resulted in so many of the terrible choices I have made in my life.

I need to get away from her. I need to go to my Hermione.

* * *

The twins actually have good singing voices.

_I was gonna conquer the world  
__But, then I got high.  
__I was gonna kill the Boy Who Lived  
__But, then I got high.  
__I didn't hurl that Avada  
__And I know why.  
__Hey, hey.  
__It's cause I got high  
__Because I got high  
__Because I got high._

Potter, Weasley, and my three Slytherins join in on the choruses. Arms draped over each others' shoulders after consumption of a fair amount of firewhisky, they sway in rhythm with the music and make an attempt at harmony. I am pleased to see Draco, Adrian, and Blaise letting go of grudges against Potter and Weasley. In this fight, we are all Order members.

They do not sing nearly as well as the twins. What they lack in skill, they make up for with enthusiasm.

Hermione and I are comfortably ensconced on the sofa, fire whiskies in hand. Tonight, among members of the Order, we are a couple as so many of them are.

We are sharing a plate of mini tacos and huge prawns. Remus is sitting at the other end of the sofa with Tonks draped across his lap. She is feeding him cheese. Ellen and Mark are sitting across from us, enjoying something called buffalo wings – which do not look like they came from a buffalo. Jean and Mike are to my right and are busy sampling Chinese dumplings.

Limnoreia is sitting in the armchair to the left and Roger is on the floor in front of her. He is leaning back against the chair between her legs. Limnoreia has unbraided his hair and is scratching his scalp, resulting in pleasured moans. Their plates, containing a little of everything, are sitting ignored. It might be because their hands are continually doing something other than eating.

"I thought the Thunderbird was a myth," says Mark, continuing our discussion. "I did a study of magical creatures native to North America when I was preparing to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although the legends tell of it, I never found any evidence that it actually existed."

Roger pauses in between head scratches to answer.

"Even among the tribes," he says, catching Limnoreia's hand, "there are no legends that the creature exists as anything other than an Animagus form. It is the only form I have ever heard of that has never existed as a magical or non-magical creature."

"Perhaps it existed in pre-history," comments Hermione. "It may be from a time so long ago, it is remembered only in the collective unconscious."

"If that is the case," replies Roger, "fossilized remains have yet to be found."

"It has an eagle's head," says Jean. "I've never heard of any prehistoric creature with an eagle's head."

"The Assyrians worshipped Nisroch, an eagle headed deity," offers Remus.

"Nisroch had a human body," replies Roger, holding up the plate for Limnoreia. She takes the grapes and a quarter of a sandwich.

"That could indicate an Animagus in transformation," suggests Tonks.

"He was the Assyrian god of agriculture," counters Mark. "That doesn't fit with the Thunderbird."

"It is over four hundred years since the last Thunderbird Animagus," says Roger. "He was Cheyenne. Before him, there was a woman of the Choctaw. Prior to her, it is believed a Huron held the form. The earliest confirmed Thunderbird was Hopi. Legend has it that there were Thunderbirds before among the Pai and Anasazi, but nothing is confirmed."

"Have all of them been ward breakers?" I ask.

"According to all of the legends," says Roger, accepting a refill of his fire whisky from Edgar. "There is no ward that cannot be shattered by a Thunderbird, even wards set with a voluntary sacrifice. Tonight, when Hermione shed her blood to establish the wards, was the closest I've come to testing that. Obviously, we can't test it against a human sacrifice."

Limnoreia smiles happily down at the man who is resting his head against her thigh.

"You shattered those wards like they were cheap glass," she says, proudly. "Wards set by a Gringott's curse breaker, five Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, a former Death Eater, and the owner and operator of the premier warding company in Britain. There isn't a doubt in my mind that you'll do the same at Malfoy Manor."

"The Dark Lord will pee himself," announces Jean,

"Right after Pettigrew pees himself," suggests Mike.

"Followed by Rutherford," says Ellen.

"And Dolohov," adds Hermione, sounding vengeful.

"What about Greyback?" asks Limnoreia.

"He'll shit in his pants," declares Remus, with a gleam in his eyes. "A big smelly, messy load."

"Everyone will smell him," says Tonks, stroking Remus' face. "They'll smell him across the hill. Smell the fear on him."

Tonks looks over at Roger. Her eyes narrow.

"Feel free to pick him up in those great talons of yours," she says, nodding to herself as she imagines the scene. "Fly him as high as you can go and drop him. It would be nice if he could have at least a minute or two to imagine how it will be when he hits the ground."

"Do not drop him near the battle site," I suggest. "The field to the north would be an excellent location. His bits and pieces will not splatter on any of us and it will not be close enough to damage the rose garden."

"My sister is a werewolf," says Roger, finishing off his samosas and licking his fingers. He reaches for napkin and wipes his hands. "She was turned by a rogue when she was seventeen. He was convicted and will be spending the rest of his days on Alcatraz Island."

"I was two years old," says Remus, softly. "Two years old when Greyback turned me. He turned dozens of children before me and easily one hundred since. Most don't survive their first change."

"Point him out to me," says Roger to all of us, but looking intently at Remus. "Make sure I know who he is and I will take care of it. He won't turn anyone ever again and I'm sure he'll get quite a welcome in hell."

* * *

The circle consisting of chairs, sofa, and loveseats has expanded to include all of the Weasleys, Potter, and Draco. Roger and Limnoreia have decided to wander through the apartment building with Cindy as a tour guide.

The BludgeSucker is being passed around as Mike and Mark explain the spelling that went into it.

Ellen has it right now. She is examining it carefully. She looks appalled.

"Did you consider just how strong the suction is with this thing?" she asks.

"Well, no," says Mike, sheepishly. "We focused on refining the charms to use it as a weapon. The targeting spells are much more effective and absolutely relentless. You hit the target with the spell and the Bludger won't quit until it connects."

"The lips were intended only for our practice session," says Mark. "We gave it suction power so that it would stick and leave a mark instead of flattening someone when it hit them. We'll take away the kissing charms when it is used as a weapon, but leave the lips on it. We think it makes a statement."

"We didn't intend it have quite so much suction power that it would leave huge hickies behind," clarifies Mike.

"It's one of the reasons we want to buy it outright from you," says George.

"There could be a market for it," adds Fred. "It's not like it'll give George and me a bad reputation."

"We already have a bad reputation," counters George.

"Maybe not _bad_," clarifies Fred. "More like disreputable."

"Sell it," decrees Ellen.

The twins are grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Licensing would be better for us financially," argues Mark. "We'd get a percentage of sales for years to come. This could be a hit."

"Our name is not going to be associated with that thing. Sell it," Ellen repeats. Jean is laughing, which catches Ellen's attention.

"Honestly, Jean. We can't trust these two together." Ellen nods at Mike and Mark, together. "One evening working on a weapon and they've invented a new toy that is going to be used inappropriately. I can just see the reception area at St. Mungo's. We'll have all of these men wearing cloaks with nothing on underneath except for a BludgeSucker stuck to their todgers."

The sofa is starting to shake from repressed laughter.

"Not a pretty sight," snorts Jean in agreement. "Have you guys even considered the hygiene issues?"

"Eeeeeew!"

This is one time that I agree with the chorus. That is a revolting notion.

"You don't get to sell it to Wheezes until you work out how to clean the interior of that thing," insists Ellen. "But, the motto should be _For Men Who Really, Really Love Their Quidditch_."

We are all laughing, now.

"It will really lend a whole new meaning to the term Quidditch widow," says Ellen, primly.

We are all rolling with laughter. The twins are literally flailing on the floor.

* * *

Potter is on his second piece of Eli's chocolate chip cheesecake.

"I've already discussed this with Neville and he's in agreement," says Potter around a mouthful of delectably flavored cream cheese, sour cream, and chocolate morsels baked into a chocolate biscuit crumb crust.

I ate my slice and then ate half of Hermione's. She is altogether too kind hearted in allowing me to do it. I intend to take a slice back with me to Hogwarts. The house-elves shall analyze it, recreate it, and serve it. To me. I will make Albus watch while I eat it. If he grovels sufficiently, I shall allow him to have a slice. Minerva may have all she wants.

"Battlefield observers?" comment Tonks. "I can see the value of it, especially since we really don't know how much Happy-Sleepy it will take to intoxicate the Dark Lord."

"Chester Sommersby suggested it," says George. "He's a really interesting person."

Jean leans forward to retrieve her glass from the table. "Sommersby is a better strategist than Dumbledore," she remarks.

"Is he?" asks Ron Weasley. "I'd never heard of him until he joined the Strategy committee."

"He was pivotal in the effort against Grindelwald, but you already knew that. What most people don't know is that he was instrumental in coordinating the capture of Rasputin," explains Remus. "He had nothing to do with the famous incident when Rasputin was supposed to have been poisoned, shot, beaten, and drowned. That was mismanaged by a group of Muggles. The body they retrieved from the river was not Rasputin, but they claimed it was so they could take credit for his disappearance.

"Rasputin had gone into hiding and was tracked by a team led by Sommersby. When he realized that there were wizards looking for him, Rasputin went on the run. It took six months to find him in South America."

I pick up the story.

"Rasputin was truly the Dark Lord's role model," I tell Potter. "He had done things to himself that made him very hard to kill. He had not gone as far as the Dark Lord has now. Rasputin's appearance was still human. Sommersby told me that Rasputin's eyes were red and that he used a glamour to hide them from Muggles."

Potter straightens up, with a look of surprise.

"Do you think that the Dark Lord took up where Rasputin left off?" he asks.

"It is almost certain that h e did," says Jean.

"So, how did they kill him?" asks Ron.

"They didn't," says Jean. "He was Kissed by a Dementor. His shell was kept by the Russian wizarding government. It is still alive somewhere in their wizarding prison in Siberia."

"Are you serious?" gasps Potter. "I thought that was just a story in _The Quibbler_."

"Nope," says Jean. "They tried to execute the shell any number of times and nothing worked."

"Blow me," says George, in wonder.

"Hand him the BludgeSucker," mutters Ellen dryly, rolling her eyes.

That has everybody laughing again.

* * *

Draco is kneeling on the floor across from Potter and everyone is looking at them. Perhaps because the map Draco has sketched out is spread out between them.

"It totally makes sense for the battlefield observers to stay out of the fighting," says Draco, sounding far too much like an American teenager. He traces his finger across the map, showing the edge of the southernmost hill.

"I don't think he'll choose the hill that is furthest to the north," says Draco. "He'll want to keep anyone from seeing the bonfire and the nearest roads in the area are to the north. There is nothing but farmland to the south for as far as the eye can see. I'm betting he'll choose this hill.

"When the ground troops reach the base of the hill," he continues, "the battlefield observers should break off and skirt the edge of the hill and come around to this side." Draco points to the west edge of the hill. "This will take the observers away from the main force, but the slope of the hill is manageable for climbing. We had some dead trees cut down from this area and it is clear enough for the bonfire without setting the timber on fire."

Tonks kneels down next to him. She will head the team of observers and is planning their strategy.

"So, we need to get to the west side of this hill, but only if the bonfire is there," she remarks, pointing to the first hill. "What if he chooses either of the other hills?"

"The first hill is the tallest," I comment. "That is why it is likely that he will choose it, given his preference for dramatic effect. The other two hills block the view of the first one when looking from the north."

"If he picks either of the other two hills," says Draco, "go to the west slope of any of them and you'll be able to climb up without using the paths."

"The key will be to avoid engaging the enemy whenever possible," instructs Jean. "Defend yourselves, of course. But, if you aren't attacking and there are plenty of others who are, the Death Eaters will have their hands full."

"The most difficult part will be getting into position fast enough so that we can see the early hits," says Hermione. "We could easily miss the first four or five strikes while we position ourselves."

"That's why we've been working on short-distance Portkeys," says Mike. "They should cut four to six minutes of running across open fields."

"We're charming them so that they won't smack any of them into a tree or bush," adds Mark, forestalling Hermione's next question."

"Which brings us back to the question of whether four observers are enough or if the observers should split up," announces Tonks. "Under the right circumstances, I can see where the team might need to split into teams of two."

"If you find yourselves caught up in a fight with any of the Death Eaters," says Potter. "That would be enough of a reason to split up."

"So, your team will consist of Tonks, Hermione, Neville, and possibly Seamus after I talk to him," says Ron.

I do believe the Weasley contingent has decided to put off adding their mother to the list. She can probably be persuaded later or can be part of the guard on the medical station. The important thing is that Potter convinced Tonks to lead the battlefield observers and Tonks convinced Hermione.

I did not have to say a word and even complimented Hermione on her dueling skills when Jean declared her fit to be on the battlefield. I can afford to be gracious when I have managed to get my way.

"Then it's settled," says Potter.

I owe Potter one bottle of Lucius' fire whisky. I may very well give him two.

* * *

"The furniture for the furnished apartments will arrive this week," says Draco, as he shows us one of the two bedroom apartments on the second floor. At the moment, it is full of extra beds for the Weasleys and my Slytherins. I suspect the snoring noise coming from behind one of the bedroom doors is issuing from Charlie Weasley.

"When will your tenants arrive?" I ask.

"Fourteen will be coming to Avalon for a summer class, so they'll start arriving as early as July 1st," says Draco. "Classes will begin on the 6th."

Assuming all goes as planned. Assuming Draco is alive and well.

There is no point in traveling down that path.

"I'd like to show you the rooftop in the morning," says Draco, guiding us towards the hallway. "I am thinking of doing a rooftop garden. There isn't enough green in the city."

As we move to leave the apartment, Ronald Weasley's mildly inebriated voice can be heard from the hallway through the open door.

"It's just a phase," says Weasley. "Like when we grew our hair long during fourth year and then got it cut short during fifth."

"I think it's a helluva lot more than a phase," says Potter, sounding sober. "I'd leave it alone, if I were you."

Hermione holds out her hand and we stop, overtly eavesdropping.

"But Merlin, he's _Snape_," says Weasley, disgusted. "I'll give you that he's not the evil git we thought back then, but he's still _Snape_ and this is Hermione we're talking about."

So, I am a phase? Apparently Hermione does not think so. She is beginning to look rather explosive. Draco has his poker face on and is watching Hermione with great interest.

"She'll get over him," whines Weasley. "He'll get tired of her and kick her to the curb. He's a Death Eater and Merlin only knows what he considers a good time. She'll wise up and realize that she's the nice girl next door and that he's not."

"I hope Snape doesn't start thinking that he's the nice girl next door," Potter retorts. "He won't look good in the outfit."

Weasley is about to learn how _he_ looks in the outfit. I begin to move when Hermione steps in front of me.

"You know what I mean," says Weasley, snidely.

"Do you really think she'll be looking for you when she comes to this amazing realization?" asks Potter, scathingly.

"Nah," sighs Weasley. "She'll come looking for Bill. You can see he's carrying a torch for her."

"He's been covering for both of them so they can have time together," snorts Potter. "That's not a torch; it's more like an invisibility cloak."

Hermione steps into the middle of the doorway, which brings Weasley and Potter to a screeching halt.

"You think I'm going through a phase?" she says, furious.

Hermione is poking Weasley in the chest with her index finger. Repeatedly.

Weasley is smart enough to look mortified and back up. He looks over her shoulder and sees me standing behind her. There is panic in his expression. I suspect he is wondering when the hex will hit him.

"I'm going to toss Severus over just as soon as my head is clear?"

Poke

"Hermione?" protests Weasley

Poke.

"He's going to dump me because I'm not interesting enough?"

Poke.

"It's his fault," says Weasley, pointing at me.

I raise my hand to my heart. I am wounded, indeed. Smirk.

"He's obviously taking advantage of your good nature," insists Weasley.

"Bollocks," declares Hermione.

Potter and Draco are exchanging amused looks.

"You don't have a clue," she says, stopping in mid-poke.

Weasley does his best to look mature. Perhaps even wise. He is about to say something profound, I am certain.

"I just want you to know that your friends are here for you, no matter what."

"Oh, that's a bold statement, Ronald Bilius Weasley," shouts Hermione as she searches in the pocket of her robes. "I'd like to give you something to think about, you great idiot."

Hermione holds out a vial of the Virgo Curato.

"You know that I love you like a brother?" she shouts, not sounding like she loves him at all at this moment.

"What's that got to do with this?"

Poke. A particularly hard poke and Weasley winces.

"Quit poking me," he whines, rubbing his chest.

Hermione grabs his hand and slaps the vial into it.

"This works best when placed directly into the hand of the person who will use it. Severus and I made it and I'm giving it to you."

"What is it?" asks Weasley, confused.

"It's a healing potion," Hermione answers, poking him in the chest again.

"OUCH!"

"It has to be made by two people by a special ritual," snaps Hermione. "It can only be used by someone at least one of those people cares about. You figure out what it is. You might need to look it up in a book. You know what those are. The Hogwarts library is full of them. The ones you might need won't have pictures of Quidditch in them."

Hermione pokes him in the chest one more time and then turns around so fast; her hair slaps Weasley across the face.

"Draco!" she barks. "Get over here."

Being no fool, I step to the side so that Draco can step forward. He stands at attention, next to me. Hermione holds out a vial to me. I take her hand, along with the vial. Hermione's face brightens, understanding my intention.

"Hold out your hand," Hermione instructs Draco. He looks surprised and complies. Hermione and I place the vial into Draco's hand.

Draco's hand closes around it. He looks up, his eyes moving back and forth between us.

"Thank you," he says, his voice choked with emotion. Of course, Draco would understand what this potion signifies.

Hermione smiles and holds her arms out to Draco and pulls him into a hug. Weasley is snorting in the background as Draco hugs her back. Just as swiftly, Hermione releases Draco and grabs my hand and pulls me after her. She elbows Weasley out of the way as we go out of the door.

"Good night, Harry and Draco," Hermione calls back meaningfully to her friends over her shoulder.

I pull on her arm to slow her down. Coming up beside Hermione, I tuck her hand into the crook of my arm.

"You do know that shouting at Weasley lacked decorum," I remark.

"I'm tired of putting up with his attitude," she complains, more quietly than before. "Ron holds tight to opinions formed when we were children and doesn't want to give them up, in spite of whatever reality has shown him since. If he wants to be treated like an adult, he needs to make a bigger effort to think like one."

I have no argument with that. Besides, I am tired and would like to go to bed. We reach the stairway and see that Jean and Mike, Ellen and Mark, and Remus and Tonks are ahead of us on the way to their rooms.

There is a thumping noise coming from the floor above us.

"What is that?" asks Tonks.

Jean and Hermione are starting to laugh. What do they know that I do not?

The thumping noise is louder, the sound reverberating through the stairwell.

"They must have found the wrong apartment," says Hermione, the words barely comprehensible amidst the snorting.

That would certainly explain the rhythm of the thumps.

Potter is running up the hallway, followed by Weasley and Draco. Wands are drawn and ready.

"Are we under attack?" he asks with hushed urgency. Weasley and Draco skid to a stop behind him.

""Not exactly," says Jean, doubled over with laughter. "I think someone's senses are under attack."

The thumping stops abruptly.

"Anybody know where Roger and Limnoreia got off to?" asks Mike, laughing at his own double entendre.

"They're in the apartment with Mark and Ellen's name on the door," says Hermione, wiping tears from her cheeks.

Ellen looks at Jean.

"Why do I get the feeling that you had something to do with this?" she says, hands on her hips.

"Because Jean always has something to do with it," says Mark, cheerfully. "I would have checked that bedroom for all kinds of mischief before getting anywhere near that bed."

"Smart man," declares Mike.

"I wonder if Roger and Limnoreia even realized what happened?" asks Tonks.

The question is answered when a harpy-like shriek is heard issuing from the floor above us.

"JEAN LAMB, WHERE ARE YOU?"

* * *

For once, I have opted out of being a gentleman. I commandeered the shower so that I might be clean when we go to bed.

Wiping the steam off the mirror, I examine my reflection. Turning this way and that, my opinion is confirmed. When I am tired, the lines are much deeper, especially the ones around my eyes.

Perhaps, Hermione will accept that I am simply too tired for activity tonight. After all, it is more than 24 hours since I have slept. By the time she takes her shower and comes to bed, I shall be sound asleep.

Call me a coward, if you will. I simply do not wish to explain why I am not up for it tonight. By the time we awaken, the impotence inducing potion I took will have worn off.

I hope.

Then, I will have to tell Hermione about Ima LeDrox.

After sex, not before. If I tell her before, there may not be sex after.

Sigh.

* * *

Congratulations and five House points to each of the reviewers who figured out that Jean's ticking crocodile Patronus in the last chapter was from Peter Pan. It is rather convoluted, but starts with the tick tock croc who is the relentless pursuer of Captain Hook. In a recent remake of the movie, Captain Hook was played by Jason Isaacs. Jason Isaacs is Lucius Malfoy in the movies. Jean considers Malfoy to be a personal enemy because of his sexual harassment that cost her the job of DADA professor. She is the relentless pursuer of Malfoy because of her intention to make him pay for his evil-doing ways. Hence, the ticking crocodile as her Patronus.

Thank you to all my reviewers: Lady Slone, Persevero, Lifeasanamazon, Curi, Instar, Purplewidget, Lauenke1, Trulyamused, T wrecks, Yasmin, Keske, Severessa, Lipasnape, Phoenix's Feather, Klschmidt, Darque Hart, Twentysplenty, Alice11, Lonelygirl54, Machshefa, Walk.in.the.rain, Wynnleaf, HarnGin, Sunsethill, Koliber, Jade2099, MamaJMarie, Sylphides, Wanda, CharmedForce, Werforpsu, Yapyap, Andi-Scribbles, Mia Madwyn, Allycat1186, Narcissa M, Gwennish, Pickles87, Blue Artemis, Vestal Harlot, Laxgoalie210, TofuLove, T, o0morgana0o, Notwritten, Imbyrri, Duj, CaramelVamp, Magicdaisy, Princessfiona, Gabby, Traceyww, Oxon, Emma, MoreThanSirius, GreatGinny, Katmurphy.723, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Not so Chicken Little, Latinachikita, Seth7, Oscarxena, Excessivelyperky, Calophi, Emi, MollysSister, Quiet-mg, Lyndie578, Allison, KimJo, Ebbe04, Erytha, Squeaker19450, Puella Deorum, Alandra311, Martyjeannine, Saavik13, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Animagical, Droxy, Ginnilini, Chaotizitaet, and Rinniy08.


	98. Chapter 98

Still don't own any of it.

If this story makes any sense in a British context, it is because of Julia. Katyes is up to chapter 87 in her German translation. Thank you to both of you. And to the others who shall not be named, yet.

* * *

June 13th, 1999  
Countdown: 7 days, 12 hours and 5 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

Severus is still sleeping. Not surprising, considering how exhausted he was last night. It was 3 am before we got to bed, so he must have gone at least 24 hours without sleep, considering the time difference between Chicago and Scotland.

He was sound asleep before I climbed into bed. So much for the seductive power of my beige lace nightgown.

It is nice just to lie here. I'm on my side, looking out of the bedroom window and Severus is snuggled up against my back. Unfortunately, there's nothing to see except for the bricks of the apartment building next door. At least their windows don't line up with ours, so I'm not looking into someone else's bedroom and vice versa. At least my living room has a nice view of the tall trees in the back yard.

Severus is spooned up against me. His arm is draped across my waist and his legs are tucked right against mine. I pulled up my hair so that it falls over the top of my pillow. It is more comfortable to sleep that way and Severus won't end up with a mouthful of my wild and wooly mane.

I can feel his breath on my neck. I like it. It does make it harder to lie here quietly. I'd like to roll over and wake him up.

Given how late we were up last night, it is still early. According to the clock on the table next to the bed, it is only a little after 9 am. I owe Bill big time for agreeing to do his Professor Snape imitation again. He's covering for Severus at Hogwarts so we can have this time together.

I yawn and close my eyes. I can feel Severus' breath on my neck and the movement of his chest and abdomen against my back as he breathes.

* * *

Severus

Hermione is still sleeping. Not surprising, considering how exhausted she was last night. I do not remember her getting into bed, so I must have fallen asleep before she finished her shower.

That is just as well. I did not want to have to explain why I could not have performed last night.

_By the way, my love, I took an impotence potion yesterday when I was summoned by the Dark Lord. It is my standard practice in case I am expected to participate in any gang rapes._

I will not have to tell her that part. I will tell her about Ima LeDrox.

_By the way, my love, there is an attractive female Death Eater who is trying to seduce me and is interested in marriage. The impotence potion is also intended to present her with a disincentive. I hope to discourage her interest._

That should go over well. I think that I shall make love to Hermione before I tell her about Ima.

I shift position so that the circulation returns to my arm.

It is only a little after 10 am and Bill is covering for me at Hogwarts. We have hours, yet.

I yawn and close my eyes.

* * *

Hermione

I move carefully so that I don't wake Severus. It was difficult enough to get out of bed so that I could use the loo. Trying to get back into bed and under his arm without waking him might be next to impossible.

Move right leg carefully to the right, followed by left leg. Shift hip slowly. Lift Severus' right arm and place slowly over waist. Pull up duvet with right hand, adjust over shoulder. Lay head down on pillow.

Severus has one eye open, watching me. So much for stealth.

As long as he is awake…

I reach over and brush his hair back. I wonder if I could convince him to let his hair grow longer? Limnoreia had such fun playing with Roger's hair, yesterday. His reaches the middle of his back.

Severus' hair feels soft and baby fine. He might have used my shampoo, so his hair should show the effects of the magic in it. I'll have to see what it did for him. It made my frizzy hair soft, shiny, and with more defined curl rather than frizzy.

Severus catches my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses each of my fingers, draws my little finger into his mouth, and explores it with his tongue.

I had no idea my little finger was connected directly to my spinal column.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies in that lovely seductive baritone of his. "I love you enough to brush my teeth before I make slow, leisurely love to you."

Oh, the promise in his voice.

"In that case, I'm willing to let you out of bed," I whisper, teasing.

"Save my place?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

Severus

Necessities are taken care of. I have brushed my teeth and my breath is fresh. I have washed my face and hands, shaved, and combed my hair. It is surprisingly shiny and not as oily as usual. It must be Hermione's shampoo. Even the drying charm worked better.

I am feeling reassured, because thinking about Hermione and planning my assault on her senses has resulted in a tightening in the area in question. The impotence potion has worn off and should not interfere with my performance. It is a month and a half since we made love. I am anxious to have an opportunity to do so again.

It is true that abstinence makes the heart and other parts grow fonder.

* * *

Hermione

My beige lace nightgown is somewhere on the floor.

I wanted to welcome Severus' return to our bed with a provocative pose. As soon as he left the room, I closed the window and the curtains, reinforced the noise suppression charms, tidied up the bed, ran a comb through my hair, adjusted my nightgown to show off my cleavage (such as it is) and draped myself across the bed in my best _come hither_ pose.

At least I think it was a come hither pose. It always worked in the movies and in the novels Lavender used to read aloud just to annoy me.

Given that Severus had every intention of exploring the physical side of our relationship this morning, he was responsive to the visual suggestion.

Wearing nothing more than a predatory smile, he climbed onto the bed with more catlike grace than Crookshanks has ever shown. Severus made it to the general vicinity of my feet and reached down to rest his hand against my ankle. My skin tingled as he slowly ran his hand along my calf to the knee, pushing up the nightgown along with it. I shifted position so that I was lying on my back in an inviting way.

I reached out to take his other hand to draw him closer to me.

Severus overbalanced when I took his hand and landed on top of me. It was a bit of a scramble, but we both laughed and took advantage of our little wrestling match to pull off my nightgown, which Severus tossed over his shoulder. The elbow jab I received to my ribs was purely accidental. He soothed the dull pain away with a kiss and a charm.

Now we are ready to get down to business.

Severus is on top of me and I lift my head off the pillow and position myself to kiss him. He drops his head to kiss me at the same time.

Thunk.

"Ouch!" says Severus, immediately following the moment when our foreheads collide. "This is not what I had planned as foreplay."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. "I was trying to kiss you."

"In that case," Severus replies with a smirk, "Carry on."

I reach up and cup his face to hold it still. Severus cooperates and lets me draw his face down and angle it for a perfect kiss.

His lips may be rather narrow, but size and shape isn't as important as what you do with it. Severus takes charge of the kissing department. Nibbles. Little sucks on my lower lip. Teasing me with his tongue until I open my mouth.

I'm very glad we both brushed our teeth this morning.

I decide to be incredibly brave and slip my tongue into his mouth. I'm not sure exactly how you do this part. The texture of his tongue is getting familiar and I take a swipe across the roof of his mouth.

If I'm interpreting that noise correctly, he likes it. That, or I triggered a bit of his gag reflex. I'd better move my tongue away from that area, just in case. Gagging during kissing is not romantic.

I explore his teeth next. The right upper second bicuspid has a rough edge at the back. Severus must have broken a bit off that tooth at some point. I wonder if he saw a dentist?

He's being all masterful again. Severus raises his head and repositions for another kiss.

Severus is exploring my mouth with his tongue. It is kind of exciting, but messy. What am I supposed to do with the saliva in my mouth while his tongue is in there? Would he notice if I swallowed? Merlin, what if I swallowed his tongue?

I am saved by Severus moving on to kissing my chin and working his way down my neck.

I like this much better than tongues.

What is he doing to my neck with his tongue?

It is exciting to feel his bare skin against my breasts as he moves and that part of him that seems to be showing a special interest in my right thigh.

My hands are traveling across his bare shoulders when my left ring finger encounters a bump. I wonder if that's a mole? I'll have to check later. I'm sure it isn't a skin cancer. Severus hardly ever gets out in the sun, let alone without a shirt. What if he got a bad sunburn when he was a child? He might never have used any sort of sun protection.

Oh, that is nice. Severus has made his way down my neck to the suprasternal notch. He's kissing the hollow and laving it with his tongue. He must really like that spot because he's licking it a lot.

Sometimes, Crookshanks likes to lick my wrist repeatedly. If he licks it too long it starts to get numb.

Severus really likes that spot.

It's getting numb, so I think I'll move things along by reaching down and grabbing his arse.

I think that was a genuine groan of pleasure and Severus has stopped the licking thing for the moment. I knead his cheeks for a while and my right thigh is getting more intense attention from that particular part of his anatomy.

He's really enjoying it and is taking his interest further south.

I like what he's doing to my breasts. I arch my back to encourage him further.

I pull back abruptly when Severus nips a little too hard. He gives that breast plenty of extra attention to make up for it, but I'll bet I'm going to have a bruise.

Time to assert myself. I roll on top of Severus, keeping my hands and lips very busy in the process. He groans as I stroke and kiss my way down to his navel. I am relieved to find no lint.

My skin is tingling as his hands caress my back. He winces as I accidentally hit his left knee with my right knee. A few kisses, caresses, and sucking on the skin behind his knee makes it all better.

Things are getting intense.

It's hard to think, I just want to feel.

We roll over again and we're ready.

Oh, that sensation of sliding into place.

Moving. Severus is moving.

Keep moving.

I've got to fatten him up a little. Those hipbones of his are going to leave bruises.

Now, that move feels incredible.

"Thumb…"

"More?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

He's moving faster. Nothing matters except feeling.

Except that hipbone thing.

More. Harder.

More. Harder.

"More. Harder."

There's more.

Oh, harder.

Severus tenses up.

"Unngggggggggggh!"

Oh.

Oh.

That ended abruptly.

I think I might have got there if things had lasted a bit longer.

He's collapsed on top of me, sweaty, panting and catching his breath.

This has all been very nice, but it ended sooner than I would have liked. It's sort of like I'm all naked, all worked up, and no place to go.

Severus rolls off of me. He reaches over and starts touching me in that place that was feeling rather disappointed.

Better.

Much better.

More.

Not so hard.

"Too hard."

Better.

Circles.

More.

Oh.

Oh.

"Ooooooooooooh, yessssssssss…"

* * *

Severus

Afterglow is very pleasant, especially with Hermione in my arms.

I had not planned on reaching afterglow before Hermione got there. I planned everything to be slow and well-timed. _Coordinated._ Instead, I could not hold back. It has been _weeks_ and she felt so good.

So much for being Salazar Slytherin in the bedroom.

I am certain he was never… premature. Or never told anyone about it. That fact was certainly never contained in any of the biographical information I have read about him. Anne Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw did not make mention of it, either. Not exactly the sort of thing one would brag about. Though Anne Slytherin was quite incensed with Salazar when she discovered he was having an affair with Rowena. She might have been tempted to write an expose, if they had had such things a thousand years ago.

I shift and adjust Hermione's head so she rests more securely on my shoulder.

Hermione is new enough at this that she might not realize…

Who am I trying to fool? If she is relatively inexperienced, she has probably read everything Avalon College has in their library related to human sexuality.

I did make it up to her. She had a perfectly respectable climax, even if it was a few minutes after mine.

It is vexing, nonetheless.

* * *

Hermione

We just weren't as comfortable with each other this time. During the Virgo Curato ritual and the rest of that night, the sex was different. It was like we knew right where to touch, what felt best, and how to make it feel good for each other.

In things I've read and heard, the first time for a woman is supposed to be uncomfortable. Hell's bells, I've read everything from feeling split in two to barely a pinch. Mine was much more along the lines of the barely a pinch response.

I had an orgasm the first time I had sex. I had two other orgasms that night. Both of those were during sex.

The only reason I had an orgasm this time was that Severus worked at it after it was all finished for him. He knew I hadn't finished and didn't ask if he should. I'm glad he showed the initiative and that I didn't have to ask.

Severus shifts a little so I can rest my head on his shoulder much more comfortably.

It doesn't make any sense that it was awkward this time and not the first time, unless it had something to do with the Virgo Curato ritual.

* * *

Severus

Why was it so much easier the first time we made love? Everything went so smoothly. It was as if I knew exactly where to touch her and how to please her. There was none of the awkwardness that one usually finds the first time a couple makes love.

This time, we hit our heads, elbows got in the way, Hermione smacked my knee, and I very nearly bit Hermione's nipple when she startled me.

This time, I finished early.

I never finish early.

Well, not since that one particularly embarrassing occasion. But, I was seventeen at the time. Teenage boys are not known for their staying power.

Until Hermione, all of the sex I have had in the last ten years has been rented. They did not seem dissatisfied, but they may have been faking it.

It does not make any sense that it was awkward this time and not the first time, unless it had something to do with the Virgo Curato ritual.

It occurs to me that Hermione and I are staring at each other.

"Hermione," I say, carefully.

"Severus?" she says, encouragingly.

I clear my throat.

"I believe that this time was more awkward than our first night together," I comment.

"It did seem to be," she replies, softly. "I know I wasn't as relaxed as I was that night."

"When we performed the Virgo Curato ritual, it guided us every step of the way," I reply, choosing my words carefully. "When the ritual was complete, we managed to make love two more times that night. All three times were good."

"All three times were excellent," says Hermione, emphatically. She raises herself on one elbow and looks down at me.

"This time wasn't as easy as it was that night," she says, brushing my hair back. "It was still good. I enjoyed it."

I catch her hand and stop her. She pulls back a bit when I roll over and sit up. My back is to her and I prefer not to look her in the eye when I admit this.

"It did not exactly end the way I had intended," I admit, embarrassed.

Hermione moves up behind me and slides her arms around me. I will not deny that the feeling of her pressed up against my back is worth the embarrassment of my admission about my emission.

"Maybe not," she whispers in my ear, "But, I came out of it quite satisfied. Maybe we need to practice more often."

I believe Hermione just stuck her tongue in my ear. I find myself incapable of speech as her tongue finds its way to my earlobe and she begins to nibble.

* * *

Hermione

Severus is embarrassed about what happened, but he's willing to talk about it. From what I've heard, most guys would have just rolled over and fell asleep right after farting hugely under the blankets.

He's making these purring noises as I tongue his earlobe. Add this to the list of Snape erogenous zones.

As long as I've got his ear. Literally.

"Is it possible that the reason things went so smoothly the first time is because of the ritual? Did the magic from the ritual last beyond the first time and make things go so perfectly the other two times?"

"I thought it was my mastery of the art," he snorts, shaking his head in dismay.

Male ego is involved here. I shall go for tactful. How can I say this without sounding like a total idiot?

"We may have had some magical help at the beginning, which probably made the biggest difference for me since I had no experience to go by." I'm willing to give that idea the benefit of the doubt. "From here on, we'll do it the old fashioned way."

I apply my lips to his neck, while my left hand goes searching for his nipple.

"I know that you like it when I suck on your earlobe," I begin.

"You like it when I run my hands over your legs, especially the inside of your thigh," he murmurs in return. He's reaching behind him to find my legs, but it is awkward given our positions. He settles for grabbing my bum instead and pulling me closer.

"You like to have your scalp scratched," I whisper. My hands follow suit and Severus rolls his head back, groaning.

"Sucking on your toes excites you," says Severus, turning around.

"Oh, yes," I reply, starting to feel tingly all over.

"You like galompharghnarl," mumbles Severus as pushes me down into the bed.

I suppose I couldn't understand exactly what he was saying, because he was talking directly to my right breast.

* * *

Severus

I am catching my breath.

This time went better. I lasted longer. Not as long as I should have, but it was better.

* * *

Hermione

I am catching my breath.

This time went better. Severus lasted longer. Not as long as he should have, but it was better. I'm developing an intimate relationship with his fingers. I wonder if I could get his tongue involved if this early ending thing continues?

* * *

Severus

I believe I have used up all my courage. I shall discuss Ima LeDrox with Hermione later.

* * *

Hermione

It looks like we are among the first to come down for brunch. Severus has just been waylaid by Zabini and Pucey. Ellen and Mark are lingering over coffee. Remus and Tonks have already left because she had to go on duty.

"I hate to ask," I say, not actually hating to ask, "But, where are Roger and Limnoreia?"

"They've already left," says Mark. "Limnoreia said that they were going back to Roger's place to plot revenge on Jean."

"I don't think they're going to spend much time on plotting," observes Ellen, finishing the last of the pineapple from her fruit cup. "Limnoreia took a jug of maple syrup and the aerosol can of whipped topping off of the table before they left."

"Ah, that first blush of new love," says Jean, accepting a platter from Dorothy with a smile.

"I just hope they don't hurt themselves," says Ellen, philosophically.

"I don't think I'm going to go and see what they did to what was supposed to be your bedroom," replies Jean. "It'll revert to wooden crates and facial tissues in a day or so."

"From the noise we heard last night," says Ellen, "I think they conjured a trampoline."

"I think it was a swing," adds Mark.

Mike is giving detailed instructions to Dorothy about how his eggs must be cooked (over hard, I believe) and is asking if there are sausage patties.

Jean is already sitting down with her eggs and fried potatoes. Mark passes the rye toast and is eyeing the eggs.

"Those yolks are raw," he says.

"Witches can't get salmonella," she replies dismissively, reaching for the pepper.

"No, but wizards can," replies Ellen. "We just don't get it in the same way Muggles do because of our immune systems."

"Really?" I comment. "I didn't know that."

"Which is why I prefer my egg yolks cooked all the way through," says Mike, taking the seat next to Jean.

"What's the difference?" I ask.

"Salmonella passes through a witch or a wizard quickly, unlike Muggles," says Ellen. "In a Muggle, salmonella is a bacterium caused intestinal infection. Typhoid fever is caused by a form of salmonella bacteria."

"The little buggers mutate when they are taken in by a magical person," says Jean. "It's the reason we don't catch typhoid fever, either."

"What do they mutate into?" I ask, fascinated.

"In witches," replies Ellen, accepting a refill of her coffee from Dorothy, "They become harmless and pass through the body in normal ways."

"It's wizards who have a problem," says Jean. "They don't really hurt them, though. It's just embarrassing."

Ellen and Jean exchange a mischievous look.

"Not to put anyone off their food," says Ellen, "But, you know that we all have mites in our eyelashes. They are harmless and go unnoticed."

"Yes," I reply. "I read about that."

"The salmonella bacteria doesn't have much affect one the wizard who eats tainted food, other than making him sweat," she continues. "But, it has quite an effect on the eyelash mites."

"What does it do to them?" I ask.

"When they are infected with the magically mutated salmonella, they mutate too," says Ellen, fighting back a laugh. "They migrate south and inhabit another part of the body."

"They turn into singing crabs," says Jean, conversationally while salting her potatoes.

"Singing crabs?" I croak.

"Embarrassing like you wouldn't believe," says Mark, looking like he is remembering a personal experience. "Back when I was at Hogwarts, somebody came up with a potion that had the same effect. It caused the damn things to mutate, crawl down into the area where such things generally live, and they started singing to advertise that they were there."

"What did they sing?" I ask, astonished.

"Whatever music they heard you listening to when they were eyelash mites," says Ellen. "If you liked opera, they'd sing opera. If you liked the Beatles, they'd sing Beatles tunes."

"You're having me on," I exclaim.

"Nope," says Jean, with an evil grin. "It is true that the potion originated in Gryffindor, but it was Slytherin that found a way to get the same result with a charm."

"Which is why Lucius Malfoy's crotch started singing Broadway show tunes during the Halloween Ball when he was Head Boy," proclaims Ellen, looking quite sentimental about the whole experience. She exchanges a look with Jean, who taps her juice glass a few times with her spoon to set a rhythm and they stand up and burst into song.

_When I have a brand new hairdo  
__And my eyelashes all in curls  
__I float as the clouds on air do  
__I enjoy being a girl._

_I'm strictly a female female  
__And my future I hope will be  
__In the home of a brave and free male  
__Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl…like…me_

They give the song a really big finish and collapse into their seats, laughing uproariously. Which is fitting, because the rest of us are laughing, too. I can just picture Lucius Malfoy with a snooty look on his face and a chorus singing music from _The Flower Drum Song _issuing from his genitals.

"There are no words for how angry Narcissa was that Lucius had crabs," says Jean, with a snort.

"I have always wondered how he managed to explain that he liked music written by Muggles," says Mike. "After they sang that one, the crabs did a rousing chorus of _Shall We Dance_? from _The King and I_."

Dorothy sets my plate in front of me and Severus takes the seat next to me.

"I will not say who in Slytherin who created the Singing Crabs charm," he says, with one eyebrow raised. "I have banned it from the House, although it still lives on in legend."

Jean smirks and toasts him with her coffee.

* * *

Hermione

Charlie gives me a rib-crushing hug, while eyeing Severus over my shoulder as I attempt to breathe.

"You'll look after our girl, won't you sir?" he asks, loosening up and giving me a chance to inhale.

"I shall endeavor do to do," he says, in a decidedly superior tone.

I can feel Charlie tensing up.

"Not, now," I whisper.

"After, then," says Charlie, sounding protective. "I want to thank both of you for the potion that fixed my hand."

"You're welcome," I reply for both of us. Charlie lets go.

"I am pleased that you have demonstrated that the potion is fully effective," comments Severus, in a tone that implies he doesn't care if it worked or not. I know better. Severus is feeling defensive.

I give Charlie a look in the hope that he will drop it for now. He gets the message and gives me a rather frustrated look. Then he smiles and looks like the handsome redheaded dragon wrangler that he is.

"I'll see you both in a week and a day," he says, releasing me. Charlie picks up his Portkey and steps into the Transportation Room.

* * *

Hermione

The boys are sitting at the dining room table, looking miserable to a man. I walk around the table and place a vial of Hangover Remedy at each place. Draco and Harry look up at me, gratefully. Ron doesn't make eye contact. He looks embarrassed. Zabini and Pucey eye me suspiciously. When they see the other three dosing themselves without being turned into giant canaries, they swallow the remedy, too. They perk up a bit once their headaches are gone.

"Where are George and Fred?" asks Harry.

"They left a few hours ago," I reply. "Charlie left about an hour ago."

"I really shouldn't drink so much the night before when I have to be on duty," mutters Harry. "Thanks for the hangover potion."

"You're welcome," I reply. "What time do you have to report in?"

"In two hours," says Ron, pouring milk into a bowl filled with Captain Crunch cereal. "The time difference between here and Britain is really a killer."

"It's eight hours between here and where I'm staying," says Zabini, looking at Ron's choice of breakfast food with disgust. He yawns. "I'm going to take my fine new broom, give it a good polishing, and go back to bed."

This sorry group is so pathetic; they can't even dredge up the energy to harass Zabini with any broom polishing jokes.

"I wish you could stay here," says Draco, halfheartedly nibbling on toast.

"I wish I could, too," says Zabini. "When this whole thing is resolved, maybe it'll be safe for me to come and stay for a while." Zabini straightens up and looks enthusiastic. "You could give me a tour of the college and I could start the application process. Professor Snape says he'll vouch for me with the Potions Department."

"You know that when you start at the college," says Draco, "You'll have to live in the hall of residence for the first year. They want to make sure you don't party all the time and flunk out."

"That stinks," says Pucey. "I'm thinking that I might be interested in their Charms program."

"You'll know where to come for the really good parties at weekends," says Draco, looking entirely cheerful at the thought of his two friends coming to Chicago.

"What I'd really like," says Pucey, scratching his head, "would be an advanced training program in Defense Against the Dark Arts. After dealing with my family's friends, I'd like to know a lot more about it. I'm especially interested in the analysis of Dark Arts artifacts.

"They don't really have a Defense Against the Dark Arts department here," I explain. "They ought to, though. I can see where advanced training would be wanted for a lot of professions. I'll bet you could put together a lot of the things you want to learn about through independent studies."

"That's brilliant," says Draco, thoughtfully. "I'll talk to Professor Littlehorse about it."

"All we have to do is get the Dark Lord hooked on Happy-Sleepy so he can be the Crack Head of Azkaban and then we can all go on with our lives," says Harry, waving his toast to make his point.

"Eight days from now," says Zabini, confidently. "Eight more days and we are free men. No more having to hide in safe houses."

"No more hiding out in Chicago," says Draco, looking grim. "My parents will be free. He won't be able to threaten them to ensure my cooperation."

"No more hiding my little sister so the Dork Lord can't find her," nods Pucey. He points his fork at Harry. "Now, tell me again why we're not supposed to kill him."

Harry puts down his toast and pushes his eyeglasses back up his nose.

"You know," says Harry, quietly, "I never _knew_ any of you back at Hogwarts. I thought I did, but I had it wrong. It was based on stories, House traditions, preconceived notions and all kinds of things that don't matter in the real world. In one way or the other, that psychopath has been running my life for all of my life. I never really understood that he was doing the same to you guys, just in different ways."

Ron looks up from his Captain Crunch and holds out his glass of pumpkin juice.

"We may have got here in different ways and for different reasons," says Ron, deadly serious for once. "In eight days, I'm going to fly with you. I'm awfully glad to have you watching my back and I'm going to be watching yours. We're going after that snake fucker and by the time we're done, we're going to _own _him. Here's to freedom."

"Ours begins the night his ends," I add.

Glasses clink as everyone takes up the toast.

* * *

Severus

Hermione is communing with her idiot friends and going out of her way to make my Slytherins feel welcome. I am very pleased with Zabini and Pucey's interest in attending Avalon College. If all goes our way next week, they could be free to explore whole new possibilities in their lives and start fresh. Both of them have families with Death Eater sympathies and would do well to be away from them.

In Pucey's case, the Dark Lord's interest in his younger sister sent him to Dumbledore to seek sanctuary for her. She is now hidden with a family in Canada, which saved her from the fate the Dark Lord inflicted on Rutherford's natural daughter. The family has declared her a runaway and has magically disowned her. It is the best thing that could possibly have happened to her.

I do appreciate that Zabini stated that _Granger's not bad for a Gryffindor_.

I am less pleased that they thought they were entitled to probe for information about my relationship with Hermione. I disabused them of that notion quickly enough. Everyone saw Hermione and me sitting together on the sofa. It is no secret that I spent the night in her apartment.

At the moment, I am making a list of the wards we placed on the statue of the Dark Lord. Albus and Chester have some rather esoteric tomes that are unavailable even in the Most Restricted Section of the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. Roger and Limnoreia have offered to do more testing of his skills so that we can more accurately predict the likelihood of breaking through the sacrificial wards. That assumes that they will finish testing their skills with cans of whipped cream and jugs of maple syrup. They may have no energy left for anything else.

"Professor Snape?" says a voice in a high pitched elfin tone. "May I offer you tea or coffee?"

It is Edgar.

I have dreaded this encounter since the first moment I heard Draco reference his name. It is my personal fervent hope that the hotel I stayed at when I visited Avalon College was so busy that he does not recollect me at all. I especially hope that he does not remember procuring the services of a curly haired call girl at my request.

"I would prefer tea," I reply, looking down at the service elf. He is garbed in dark blue trousers and a light blue button down shirt. It is so odd to see an elf dressed in something other than a towel or pillow case.

With a snap of his fingers, Edgar disappears. In a trice, he returns with a tea service. He busies himself with pouring and serving my tea.

I suppose this is as good a time as any to determine if I need to concern myself that Edgar will reveal my past transgression to Hermione.

"How do you like working here as compared to the hotel?" I ask, in a rather Gryffindor inspired manner that would have pleased .Hermione, were it not for the subject matter.

"I enjoy the variety of the things that I do," replies Edgar in a rather businesslike tone. "Here, I function as the manager of the building and have authority to deal with the contractors and repairpersons. Mr. Malfoy has given me a good deal of leeway to run things as I see fit. I am only required to bring exceptional matters or costs above three hundred dollars to his attention. I never had an opportunity to hold such authority at the hotel. Only wizards and witches could attain management positions."

"That is unfortunate," I reply. "Draco has shown me what has been accomplished with this building. He credits you with making day to day decisions that allow him to have this business and continue to focus on his education."

"Hermione and I have talked about the differences between European house-elves and North American service elves," says Edgar. "European house-elves still carry enslavement charms, while American service-elves do not. Our freedom has allowed us to make choices about what kind of work we do and where we do it, but has not overcome prejudice against our kind. Mr. Malfoy has given me far more authority than I would typically receive from an American employer. He is accustomed to giving enslaved elves power in a household because their loyalty is ensured. They cannot betray the master to whom they are bound.

"Mr. Malfoy treats me with the same level of confidence that he does an enslaved house-elf. It has not occurred to him to do otherwise, even though I am not bound to him. I view this as an opportunity to prove that a service elf can demonstrate both competence and loyalty in a management position."

Edgar picks up the tea service and turns to me.

"Miss Granger allows Dorothy and me to address her by her first name," he says. "She treats us in a respectful manner and is a good influence on Mr. Malfoy. She is enlightened in her attitudes towards my kind I cannot imagine any circumstances where I would wish to cause her any sort of hurt."

"Hermione has had a rather similar effect on me since our relationship began last autumn," I reply. I want Edgar to know that the incident with the call girl happened long before I began my relationship with Hermione.

Edgar nods his understanding and disappears.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

Hermione

I look out of the living room window and watch Cindy and Crookshanks sitting in the tree in the back yard. Cindy is talking to Crooks in her animated way and Crooks is looking inscrutable in his.

The boys have left. The only ones still here are Jean, Draco, Severus, and myself. The last I saw of Draco, he was leaving to drive over to the Schulers to see Anita. Jean said that she was going to the apartment she shared with Mike last night to take a nap.

She's being considerate, giving Severus and me some time before he has to leave.

It is almost 4 pm and he'll have to leave soon. Officially, Bill has been with me for the weekend. Professor Snape will have been seen stalking the unwary about Hogwarts during the evening. Severus will need to Polyjuice himself to look like Bill and return to Hogwarts by midnight.

He's dozing on my sofa, right now. I don't mind, because his head is on my lap. Right now, I'm content just to watch him breathe.

Tomorrow, I'll process four bottles of the fire bladder extract and get things ready to begin production again on Tuesday. Severus is taking the rest of it back with him to set up Voldemort's cell at Chester Sommersby's home in Wales.

We have a week left before the battle.

Unless we can arrange something, I may not see Severus until the battle.

I don't want him to leave. I want to bolt the doors and ward the windows so we can keep the world away.

I promise I'll be good if we just get to be together after the battle is over. Alive, with no permanent damage.

That's right. God doesn't make deals.

I have to believe that we will win and that Severus and I have a future. I'm not trying to make a deal with God, I'm just going to keep faith that we have something to look forward to. He's given up so much for so many years. I want that to change for both of us.

He's starting to stir.

His eyes are opening. In the indoor light, they're so dark that they look black. I can stroke his hair again, now that he's waking up. He loves getting his scalp scratched. I really do wonder if I could convince him to grow his hair longer. Principles of behavioral reinforcement indicate that I should reward him with attention and head scratching, if I want to shape his behavior.

"This may be the perfect way to wake up," he says, drowsily.

I reward him with more scalp scratching.

The next few minutes are spent scratching, shifting positions, yawning, and snogging.

"I do not want to leave," murmurs Severus into my hair as I'm draped across him with my arms around his neck and my head on his shoulder.

I life my head and look into his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," I whisper, followed by my best effort to kiss him into staying.

"If I could figure out how to run away with you," he says, smiling so that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes show, "we would be gone in an instant."

His arms come around me and we are rather wrapped up in each other for a while.

"There is something I need to talk to you about," says Severus, interrupting a perfectly good snogging session with his serious tone of voice. He takes a lock of my hair and twists it around his finger.

"You have my complete attention," I reply, nibbling on his earlobe.

"You are trying to distract me," he mutters.

"Did it work?" I whisper. I wonder if I could snog him into submission.

"Too well," he sighs. "I need to tell you about something."

I give in and lean back a little so that I can look at Severus. "Very well, I'll behave." For now.

Severus smiles at me and toys with the curl around his finger.

"Do you remember hearing about a Death Eater from the first war by the name of Ima LeDrox?"

"Jean has mentioned her," I reply after searching my memory. "Isn't she the one who executed Jean's parents and brothers?"

"The very same," says Severus. "She was the Dark Lord's favored assassin. He gave her the most difficult assignments and she completed them with cold blooded efficiency. She is quite proud of that."

"Is?" I ask, surprised.

"She is alive and well. LeDrox has returned to Britain at the Dark Lord's command," he continues. "She spent the last seventeen years hiding out in various places in Europe under a series of assumed identities."

"Is she going to be the Dark Lord's assassin, again?" I ask, alarmed. "Jean is going to be terribly upset when she learns this."

"Jean already knows," Severus explains. "As you say, she was terribly upset to find out that LeDrox was back. As nearly as I can tell, the Dark Lord has no plans to use LeDrox as an assassin at this time. She is currently one of the women guarding Narcissa Malfoy."

"That does make sense," I reply, nodding. "The Dark Lord wants the best protection for the Malfoys, so someone with her skills would make an excellent body guard."

"Precisely," says Severus, looking away for a moment. "You know that the Dark Lord has told me that I am to be his godfather when he is born into the Malfoy family?"

"Quite an honor," I reply with a snort.

"He has plans beyond that," says Severus, reluctantly. "He wants to see me nicely settled with a Death Eater wife and provide him with little Death Eater playmates to grow up with."

I look at Severus in horror.

"He expects you to marry her?"

"He has strongly encouraged both of us to take an interest in each other," says Severus, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "This has only been going on for a few weeks, but I am expected to behave as her suitor."

"How do you feel about that?" I ask, just as uncomfortable. My stomach is doing flip flops.

"I am appalled at having to behave that way," says Severus, "but my role as a spy demands it. It would be suspicious if I did not comply with the Dark Lord's wishes."

He puts his hands on my shoulders at gazes at me with such intensity.

"You are the woman I want," he says, as if he is willing me to believe him. "I want a life with you, a future with you. I need you to understand that I am playing along with the Dark Lord's wishes and this is not what I would choose."

I cannot deny that I am shaken by this.

"Is she beautiful?" I ask, rattled.

"She is attractive," says Severus, reluctantly. "I cannot deny that, but she is not you and therefore is not what I want."

She's attractive?

"Does she want this?" I ask.

"I am being completely honest with you," he replies. "She has said that she wants this."

"She finds you attractive, doesn't she?"

"She has said so, but beyond the role I must play for the Dark Lord's benefit, it is irrelevant," Severus insists.

"Just how far have you had to take this role playing?"

"A walk in a rose garden and a few kisses. I flirted with her once when the Dark Lord was present." says Severus. He is almost, but not quite pleading.

"Nothing more than that?" I ask, the panicked feeling fading back.

"Nothing more," Severus says, his dark eyes sincere. "In a week, it will all be over. No matter how all of this turns out, my days as a spy will be finished. If good fortune is on our side, when the battle is over, the next time I lay eyes on Ima LeDrox will be at her trial before she is sent to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban.

"Do you believe me?"

The roiling feeling in my stomach is gone. I don't believe that Severus loves her. We made emerald green Virgo Curato. That is proof that he loves me.

"I believe you," I say softly, reaching up to stroke his face. "I'm jealous that she gets any of your time and attention."

Severus looks so relieved.

"Only one more week and even then, not much or any," he says, reassuringly. "It is the last week of N.E.W.T.s and the Dark Lord has decreed that I am not to be bothered. He knows that I will spend a portion of next weekend at the Manor with Draco, fulfilling my duties as Draco's sponsor."

"She'll be there," I reply, displeased. I don't like this at all. She's attractive and a Death Eater. I'm just…me.

"Nothing will happen between us," insists Severus. "My commitment is right here, between you and me. When I am in her presence, I must behave as if I am interested in her. In truth, the only woman I truly want is you."

Severus is prevaricating. There is something he isn't telling me and I want to know what it is.

"During Draco's twenty-four hour fast, you're going to be at the Manor. She'll be at the Manor. Draco may be expected to spend his time meditating on the religious significance of becoming a Death Eater, but you aren't going to be expected to watch over him the whole time."

"True," says Severus, looking annoyed. "On Sunday, I will spend some of my time in the company of the Dark Lord and the insane Lestrange family. Pettigrew will be busy pandering to the Dark Lord or perhaps giving him blow jobs. I will be watched every moment I am there, so that if I spend any time with Ima LeDrox, it will be in front of an audience. I will be expected to behave like her suitor. It will mean such things as holding out her chair when she sits to dine. Perhaps I shall take a turn about the rose garden with her. I may even kiss her goodnight.

"On Monday, I will try to kill her," hisses Severus. "Her loyalty to the Dark Lord is complete. She will defend him and his cause with her life's breath. This hand that has held hers in feigned courtship will raise a wand to destroy her. Will that convince you that she is no competition for you?"

All I can think to do is reach up and stroke his face. His features soften and Severus places his hand over mine.

"I shouldn't be jealous of Ima LeDrox," I whisper. "You are playing a role with her."

"There is nothing to be jealous of," Severus whispers back, his lips inches from mine. "I love you. I do not love her."

I close the distance between us.

* * *

Author's Notes

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Lady Slone, Mugglemomof3, Animagical, Yasmin, Mia Madwyn, Kcole, Oscarxena, Murgy31, Allycat1186, Ginnilini, MollysSister, Lyndie578, Phoenix's Feather, Droxy, Traceyww, MissMelysse, Yapyap, Pure Girl, Jade2099, Seth7, Darque Hart, Anastigmat, Laurenke1, Koliber, T, Andi-Scribbles, MysticSong1978, Shadow, o0morgana0o, Magicdaisy, Bubblemilktea, MoreThanSirius, Puella Deorum, Blue artemis, Jocemum, Leandra713, MamaJMarie, Notwritten, Duj, Sunsethill, Mrs.HermioneSeverusSnape, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Rinny08, Empathicslytherin, Sylphides, Pstibbons, da-blk-saiyangirl, Keske, Karla Manatee, Pleaseturnbella, Ebbe04, Arsinoe de Blassinville, Maddie50, KimJo, Princesssfiona, Erytha, Klschmidt, Violet, Squeaker19450, Excessivelyperky, Snowyskies, Kirien and Latinachikita.


	99. Chapter 99

Wish I owned it.

Thank you, Julia, for going over this chapter with a fine-toothed comb and making your suggestions. There are a few other people who will be properly thanked for their input at a later time.

* * *

June 14th, 1999

Hogwarts Interoffice Memo  
To: All Hogwarts Staff  
From: Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster  
Date: June 14th, 1999  
Re: Illicit beverages

It has come to my attention that several students within Hufflepuff have received orders from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. These parcels were disguised as coming from a bookstore in Diagon Alley, purportedly delivering texts on N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. preparation. In reality they contained bottles labeled _Tea With Ginseng_.

In spite of the health benefits inherent in both tea and ginseng, it appears that these bottles do not contain either. What is in them varies, but is much stronger than butterbeer. If you see any students in possession of a brown bottle labeled _Tea With Ginseng_, please confiscate it immediately. All such bottles will be sniffed by our resident Potions Master, who will determine the actual contents. We knew that his talent for identifying different forms of alcohol and other substances strictly by scent would come in handy one day.

If the contents are suitable and uncontaminated, they might find their way into the punch at the annual Hogwarts Staff Tea Party after the students depart on the Hogwarts Express at the end of term.

* * *

June 14th, 1999  
Countdown: 7 days, 8 hours, and 29 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

There are easily a dozen ghost cats roaming about the lounge. Cindy is in seventh heaven, picking up the ones that are willing to let her touch them. Right now, she is cuddling a three-legged calico that is purring loudly enough to wake the dead. Except that the room is mostly occupied by the dead.

Crookshanks is looking at the calico with total approval.

Draco and Jean did the summoning charm tonight to draw in ghost cats from the surrounding neighborhood. Not only did it bring in about twenty cats, but in some cases, their owners came with them.

Mrs. Forrest was the first to arrive. She's an elderly Muggle ghost and has been haunting what was her apartment sixty years ago in a building right down the street. Her Siamese cat was drawn here by the charm and she followed.

Mrs. Forrest is sitting on the sofa next to Mr. Kirkpatrick, who noticed the two cats who share his brownstone six blocks from here walking down the street. Mr. Kirkpatrick is another Muggle ghost. Based on the way he is dressed, I would guess that he is from the late eighteen hundreds. He and Mrs. Forrest are chatting quite happily. I think she is telling him about the neighborhood and how it was affected by food rationing during World War II.

Draco, Jean, Anita, and I are sitting on the stairs, watching the ghosts. Cindy told us that Mrs. Forrest and Mr. Kirkpatrick were Muggles as soon as they arrived. Their energy isn't as strong as that of a wizarding ghost. Cindy says that wizarding ghosts have more energy and substance to them, because wizards know how to channel energy when we're alive and so can use it more efficiently as ghosts.

Cindy and the two Muggle ghosts are friendly enough and as they depart, they promise to return to visit her since she can't visit them without being pulled back to Resurrection Cemetery.

Meanwhile, Crookshanks has been demonstrating that it is possible to herd cats.

The charm was cast about an hour ago. It took ten minutes for the first cats to arrive. Crookshanks stood guard to make certain that they didn't go up the stairs. A few of the cats who must be haunting outdoor areas left quickly, disappearing through the walls. I guess visiting an apartment building with live humans around didn't hold much appeal for them.

Crookshanks has been herding the others, circling around them to keep them from wandering upstairs. It must have something to do with him being half Kneazle. Even though they are ghosts, they don't even try to go past him. He's walked up to each of the ghost cats and meowed at them. They seem to be communicating in some mysterious cat language. I think he's doing the feline equivalent of an interview. After having their"talk", some of the cats have left. I guess they aren't interested in moving in or Crookshanks dismissed them as unsuitable. Maybe they weren't willing to use a ghostly litterbox.

I'll bet Minerva would thoroughly enjoy this. I wish she were here so she could explain exactly what's going on.

Cindy is sitting on the floor. More correctly, she's floating about two inches above it with the calico sitting on her lap. I'm guessing that she and the calico have bonded. I notice what looks like a white Persian kitten floating by her foot. Cindy smiles and pulls the feather out of her headband. She holds it out and shakes it at the kitten, who bats at it with a delicate paw. Crookshanks is looking on, approvingly.

Cindy laughs and looks over at us, as the kitten pounces on the silvery feather and scrabbles across the floor.

"What do you think, Cindy?" asks Anita.

"Calamity Jane definitely wants to stay," announces Cindy, petting the three-legged cat. "I requested that Crookshanks ask all of the cats if they'd be willing to stay in the building or on the property since I can't leave to find them if they wander off. From the way Crooks has been acting around Calamity and the way Calamity is behaving, I think she's agreed to that."

"Calamity Jane?" asks Draco, puzzled.

"Calamity Jane was a famous scout and sharpshooter who worked for the cavalry in the eighteen hundreds," says Anita. "She was a rough and tumble sort of cowgirl who became a big part of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. It was a circus kind of thing before the turn of the last century."

"I don't know how Calamity lost her leg," says Cindy, affectionately. "It had to be before the time that she died because she gets around just fine and it looks like it all healed up. She had to be a spunky little thing and I admire that. I wonder if she'll be able to climb the big tree in the backyard? She could float there, but I don't think it would be nearly as much fun for a cat."

"What about the other cats?" I ask Crookshanks. "What have they decided?"

Crookshanks is busy playing with the kitten. He keeps swishing his tail and the kitten is chasing it.

"It looks like Crookshanks has made a friend," says Jean. "Why not drop the summoning charm and see who stays and who leaves?"

"Good idea," says Draco. "_Finite Incantatum_."

We watch as most of the silvery cats disappear through the walls and leave.

Three cats are left. Calamity is doing figure of eights around Cindy's feet as she stands up. Calamity has an odd gait, missing her right back leg, but she is still agile. The white Persian kitten has stopped playing and it sitting right next to Crookshanks, who is looking completely inscrutable. The last is a sleek silvery black cat, sitting comfortably on one of the chairs.

Crookshanks meows and the black cat jumps off the chair and sits down in front of him. They exchange meows and the black cat looks up at Cindy and back at Crookshanks.

"I think we're seeing negotiating," whispers Jean.

"What's the verdict?" asks Cindy, looking down at the cats.

Crookshanks responds by swishing his tail back and forth. The Persian kitten attacks it again. Calamity Jane and the black cat are watching the kitten.

Crookshanks stands and saunters over to the rest of us who are sitting on the stairs. He carefully picks his way through us and goes up the stairs. He reaches the landing and meows loudly. At that signal, the three ghost cats follow. The black cat dashes in between us, a cold breeze as it passes. Calamity floats over our heads, skipping the stairs entirely. All of us move over to give the Persian more room. The kitten scrambles up the stairs, one at a time. As soon as it gets two stairs above Jean, Cindy swoops down and picks it up.

"They are all going to stay," announces Cindy, happily. She rubs her cheek against the kitten, which closes its eyes and starts to purr. "This one is Snowflake and the black one is Spooky. We're going to explore the building and then we'll go in the backyard and sit in the tree."

Cindy lands and runs up the stairs to the first floor, followed by Crookshanks, Spooky, and Calamity Jane.

"I think that went very well," announces Anita, as she leans over and kisses Draco on the cheek. "You've made Cindy a happy ghost."

"She deserves it," says Jean. "Cindy is as loyal a house ghost as you'll find anywhere."

"Crookshanks is enjoying himself, too," I add. "He's really missed Thekla and Butterscotch from St. Germain Hall. Now, he's got some buddies to hang out with."

"He's got buddies to boss around," says Draco, teasing. "It's clear who the boss cat is in this building."

"Now, we just have to figure out how to make cat toys for ghosts," says Jean, standing over the rather mangled looking feather from Cindy's headband.

"I'll help," says Anita.

* * *

June 14th, 1999  
Evening  
Countdown: 6 days, 23 hours, and 14 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Severus

Dobby and Potter are sitting at the kitchen table. For once, I am preparing the tea and will serve it to Harry Potter and a house-elf. That is a sure sign that the Apocalypse is imminent.

"Dobby wants to go," says the house-elf. "Dobby is Order member, too. Knows places only house-elves go. Can get inside where wizards can't go without elf help."

"It will be much more dangerous than meeting with Pudding to pass messages," says Potter. "Once the Death Eaters who are guarding Madam Malfoy realize that there is fighting going on at the initiation site, all hell's going to break loose."

"Dobby is ready," he says, determined. "Dobby is one _tough_ elf."

I place the teapot on the table in front of the tough elf. A plate of Molly's chocolate chip biscuits is already there.

"Thank you, Professor" says Potter, who proceeds to pour.

"Dobby is one lucky elf," Dobby proclaims. "The most excellent Harry Potter and his friend Professor Potions Master are taking tea with Dobby!"

To make his point, Dobby takes a sip of his tea and places a biscuit on the small plate in front of him.

"You have been an enormous help to the Order," I reply, hiding the fact that I am not entirely comfortable being beholden to a house-elf. "We appreciate the risks you have taken by going to Malfoy Manor and passing messages."

"Your knowledge of the land around the Manor has helped with our battle strategy, too," adds Potter.

Dobby is basking in the praise we have offered.

"Here is what we need," says Potter, getting down to business. "We want you to get inside the house and determine where Madam Malfoy is being held. I know she's been restricted to the master suite, but whoever is guarding her might move her when she realizes that there is an attack."

"Dobby and Pudding work together to protect Madam Malfoy," says Dobby, determined. "Elf magic different than wizard magic. We get Madam Malfoy and hide her in house."

"I have been told that LeDrox will be guarding Madam Malfoy that evening," I comment. "She is the deadliest of the guards and will not hesitate to start killing house-elves, if she believes that they are hiding Madam Malfoy."

"House-elves belong to Malfoys," says Dobby, grimacing. "Loyal to Malfoys. House-elves hide in places wizards can't find."

"Tell them to do so," I order Dobby. "Madam Malfoy has been a fair mistress and protecting her is more important than obeying orders from any of the Death Eaters at the Manor.

"Dobby goes to Manor tomorrow," he says, eagerly. "Dobby talks to Pudding. Make plans with house-elves. Figure out where to hide Madam Malfoy."

"Tell Pudding that he must not tell Madam Malfoy about this," says Potter. "She can't hide her thoughts and she might give away the plan."

"Pudding talk to Master Malfoy about this," explains Dobby. "Master Malfoy say Madam Malfoy is afraid, but can't be helped. We must keep secret from her."

"It is a terrible thing to say," I admit, "but it is good that she is afraid. That will help convince the Dark Lord that there is no thought of rescuing the Malfoys."

"Dobby sad for Madam Malfoy," says Dobby, his ears turning down.

"So are we," says Potter, nodding in agreement.

* * *

Paired Journal Entry  
June 14th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

We made quite a bit of progress on the Happy-Sleepy orbs, today. By the time we are finished on Wednesday, we should have 34 or 35 done. Jean is planning to go back to London on Thursday, so she'll bring them with her.

At the moment, we are all being entertained by the three ghost cats who have decided to come and haunt our apartment building with Cindy. Jean and Draco did the summoning, which brought a few dozen cats and two Muggle ghosts. The Muggles have offered to come and visit Cindy on a regular basis. Edgar is fixing up part of the storage area in the cellar so that they can have a place where they can meet comfortably and have tea.

You'll get to meet Cindy's cats the next time you come to stay. I was thinking that we should make plans to go to the Field Museum. Anita has a second cousin who works in the insect collection that only approved scholars can see. It has both magical and non-magical creatures. She has promised to ask if he'll give us a tour.

With the war over and Hogwarts term ending, perhaps you could come to Chicago for a week? I have decided not to take a summer class this year. After all of the stress of the last few years, I would like to have the freedom to travel back and forth to Britain for the summer. That way, we can spend time together.

We'll be able to start planning our Claiming ceremony, too.

Love,  
Hermione

* * *

Digital Magic  
Interoffice Memo

To: Daniel Schuler, CEO  
From: Keiko Takahashi, Director of Security  
Date: June 15, 1999  
Re: Preparations for 6-21-99

We have the Portkeys ready to send to the Order. Jean Lamb has agreed to take them with her when she returns to Britain. The Portkeys will bring the bearers to our farm in Warren County, where we will have a full contingent of our security operators and medical personnel present. We will triage there and transfer Order members to the locations you and I have discussed.

We hope it won't be needed, but if it is, we are ready to deal with a few hundred refugees. There are Order members who would need to get their whole families out of the country.

Your conversation with President Clinton has had the results we were hoping for. She has made arrangements to quietly supplement our security efforts. Magical government forces will take custody of any Death Eaters who might get their hands on a Portkey and use it to follow the refugees. She will also have our Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic contact Minster Bones immediately and offer help if things go badly. We don't want to risk that Voldemort's forces will take advantage of the crisis to take over the Ministry.

I must say that it is very handy having the President of the Magical Confederation of North America also serve as the First Lady of the United States. It makes coordination of our efforts so much easier.

The Portkeys are set to use the same password, which is the one that you suggested. I should think that most Death Eaters would be reluctant to say "Voldemort has a tiny little dick".

I have been in communication with Professor Franks and Madam Long. They have confirmed that they will be present at Digital Magic's corporate office on the 21st in case we have Marked refugees who need to be disconnected from Lord Voldemort. Rabbi and Mrs. Levy have offered to have Madam Long stay with them while she is in Chicago. They are prominent in the magical Orthodox community and Madam Long has stayed with them before.

Officially, Madam Long will be in the United States to address the American Council on Ethics in Wizardry at their annual conference, which begins on June 23rd. She'll be speaking on the subject of _Slavery and Compulsion; Imperio by Other Names_.

Professor Franks is leading a symposium on _The Need to Know vs The Right to Privacy: Legilimency and the Comatose Patient, Some Considerations for Healers._

Assuming all goes well in Britain, I want the time off so I can attend part of the conference. The programs sound interesting.

* * *

June 15th, 1999  
Evening  
Countdown: 5 days, 23 hours and 35 minutes until sunset on June 21st

Severus

The last of the Happy-Sleepy is processed and in containers, ready to transport to Chester Sommersby's home in Wales. The Dark Lord's cell is fully constructed and ready for occupancy. Remus will take the bottles of Happy-Sleepy out there tomorrow morning, along with boxes of medical potions that Ellen has requested.

Hermione did most of the medicinal brewing to prepare for this. I hope that we will not need them, but it is better to be prepared. While she and I have supplied the people we care about with the Virgo Curato, there are Order members who are not on that list and we must be prepared for anything.

Potter has been making himself useful. He transfigured odds and ends of furniture into cots, reduced them, and packed them into cartons. The chair that Hermione and I transfigured into our love seat is now part of our medical equipment.

Right now, Potter and the Runespoor are hissing back and forth.

"How is the Runespoor?" I ask.

Potter hisses once more to the snake and then stops to look at me.

"She says that her name is actually _Slithers Swiftly Through Tall Grasses_," says Potter. He looks back at the snake and hisses. "That's how her name sounds in Parseltongue," he adds.

I walk over to Slithers Swiftly Through Tall Grasses' large aquarium and look down at the three-headed creature. She looks healthy; for all that she is addicted to Happy-Sleepy.

"She and I have been talking about what she wants for the future," says Potter, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "When this done, she wants to go through withdrawal and get off the Happy-Sleepy."

"Even if she survives the withdrawal process," I reply, "she will always crave the Happy-Sleepy."

"I think she understands that," he says, looking down at the snake. Two of her heads are weaving back and forth, while the third is dozing on the magically heated rock. "She wants to take her chances and if she lives, I've promised to take her back to Burkina Faso and set her free. She says that even if she craves Happy-Sleepy, she will never find it there and so will learn to live without it."

"I can understand her desire to be free," I answer. I never thought I would have such a thing in common with a snake.

"I'm going to take her to Hogwarts on Saturday," says Potter. "If something happens, I don't want her to be forgotten down here where she'd starve. I'm taking the last of the non-addicted snakes and setting them free today. The ones that are addicted will go to Hogwarts, too. If we don't come back, their cages will disappear in a week and they'll be drawn into the Forbidden Forest. They'll all be on their own, but they'll be free. If they aren't going to survive anyway, at least they'll die free."

Potter and I look at each other and nod. No further words are necessary. If we are not going to survive, we will die free.

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
June 15th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

I can think of nothing I would rather do than spend large portions of this summer with you.

We should plan for the Claiming ceremony to take place at the earliest possible opportunity. That will give us freedom to travel together under the rules agreed to in the contract.

I would very much like to go to the Field Museum. The dinosaur exhibit would be of particular interest to me. Is it true that the wizarding section of the museum also has skeletons of prehistoric dragons? We must plan to go to Egypt and see the sights there someday. I would like to see the pyramids and tombs. I find it humorous that Muggles have theorized that the Great Pyramids were built by aliens, when they were actually built by wizards.

Perhaps we could spend a whole week in Chicago, relaxing. There would certainly be no chaperonage restrictions there. We could stay in your apartment and make plans as we go. We could even stay in, if we preferred to do that.

It is difficult for me to imagine having the freedom to do such things. Since the Dark Lord resurrected himself, I have spent most of my summers at his beck and call. When I was not servant to his whims, I was dealing with Albus Dumbledore's.

This summer, I shall be beholden to neither.

You and I shall do as we please. I look forward to it more than I can say.

Yours,  
Severus

* * *

Hermione's To Do List

Go to Petco and get cat toys and cat food.  
Empty small bottomless storage trunk  
Take leftovers down to boiler room for Cindy  
Laundry  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox. Severus loves me.  
Research ways to improve sex life  
Pack beige lace nightgown in weekender bag  
Talk to Anita about taking care of Crookshanks  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox  
Leave note for Edgar and Dorothy with tip  
Get rid of vibrator

* * *

E-mail communication  
June 16th, 1999

To: Draco Malfoy, Dragonboy12 at a w l . c o m  
From: Katherine East, Attorney at Law, lawmagistra at a w l . c o m  
Date: June 16th, 1999  
Re: Your document

I have your will ready. If you could stop by my office in the next few days and sign it, my clerks will be available to witness and notarize it. It will be filed with the county by the end of the week.

I want to commend you for your advance planning. Most young people don't think about the importance of having a will. Although it is unlikely that anything would happen to someone of your age, you never know. It is a mature decision on your part, especially given your assets.

Feel free to contact me if you have any questions or any other issues I can assist you with.

* * *

June 16th, 1999  
Evening  
Countdown: 5 days, 2 hours, and 52 minutes until sunset on June 21st.

Severus

The author defines it as ejaculating before ones partner achieves orgasm, typically occurring within ninety seconds of penetration.

By my best estimate, I lasted about two minutes. Technically, it was not premature ejaculation. Hermione did not achieve orgasm until I applied digital stimulation afterwards. Still, as a man who is considerate of his lover's needs, this must be addressed.

I run my index finger down a list of charms that can be used to make one last longer. There are three that look like possibilities. Turning pages, I come to the first one and begin to read.

"Severus, are you there?"

It is Albus calling me through the Floo.

"I am here," I reply, putting a marker in the book and hiding it in a stack of other books so the title cannot be read.

"Could you come up to my office?"

"I shall be there momentarily," I reply.

Minerva is already there when I arrive. Albus is holding a parchment and looks distressed.

I am handed a cup of Earl Grey and ushered to one of the seats before Albus' great desk. Minerva takes the other seat. Albus sits down and glances once more at the letter in his hand.

"I have just received word from Chester that Edward Selkirk died about one hour ago," says Albus. "He says that the passing was peaceful."

Minerva closes her eyes, grief in her expression.

"This is sad news for its own sake," says Albus, shaking his head and looking at me. "I dearly hope that your report of Roger Littlehorse's ability to shatter wards is sufficient to take down wards set with a voluntary human sacrifice. Chester states in his letter that if it is necessary, he will commit suicide at the battle site to bring down the wards. He will take Edward's place."

Minerva's eyes snap open with a look of shock.

Please, do not tell me that Minerva returns Chester Sommersby's interest in her. I cannot fathom Minerva having any interest in a man who is more than one hundred years older than she is and wears robes that look like brightly colored nighties. Even if he is a brilliant strategist and a scholar.

Minerva looks at me with a question in her eyes.

"Roger Littlehorse turned into a bird as large as a dragon," I say, forcefully. "Lightning issued from his talons and thunder followed in his wake. He sent a bolt of lightning at the wards that were set in blood and they shattered like an icicle striking a stone floor. The legends he spoke of, confirmed by Limnoreia, said that a Thunderbird could break wards set with a willing human sacrifice."

"He can do this?" asks Minerva.

"He can," I declare with full confidence. "Our plan can proceed. We only planned to bring Selkirk to the battlefield if we could find no other way beyond the wards. It still applies and there is every reason to keep faith that Roger will break the wards."

"Chester has volunteered for this," says Albus, looking very old. "I will cling to the hope that Professor Littlehorse will succeed and it will not be necessary to allow Chester to kill himself to get our troops through."

"Will you write to him and offer our gratitude?" asks Minerva, her voice deceptively calm. "We must have a back up plan in case Professor Littlehorse cannot break the wards. We must accept Chester's offer."

"I will write to him," says Albus with a sigh of despair.

Roger must succeed. Minerva actually cares about that ancient codger.

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
Jean to Mike  
June 16th, 1999

Mike,

I have a few odds and ends to clear up and then I'm coming home. There's been no sign of anyone except Digital Magic's security forces watching Hermione and Draco. I think they should be safe enough on their own.

Besides, I want to spend some time with my husband before we open a can of whoopass on Voldemort and Crew.

Isn't that a great term? I heard it on an American television show.

Can of Whoopass. Maybe you and Mark can invent something. Then we could literally open a Can of Whoopass when we need to. Canned Whoopass. Available at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes near you.

I'll see you tomorrow night.

By the way, I want a kitten. After Monday is over, I'm getting a white Persian with blue eyes. I realize that Walter was like a furry little brother to you, but he's been gone for a while. If you want another dog, I'm open to the possibility.

Love,  
Jean

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
Hermione to Severus  
June 16th, 1999

Dear Severus,

I've been thinking about our week in Chicago. If you arrive on a Saturday, we should spend the day letting you adjust to the time change. We'll have a quiet day together.

I'd like to cook for you. Since you like prawns, I'll get some of the giant ones that they have at the supermarket. Would you prefer them fixed scampi style on linguini or with an Alfredo sauce on fettuccini? Perhaps a Caesar salad and garlic bread to go with it?

You would have to bring the wine, since I can't buy it legally in the United States and I'm almost out.

I don't know what Anita's cousin's work schedule is. We'll have to plan our trip to the Field Museum around his convenience so that we can get into the insect collection. There is so much at the museum, we might want to plan two days there. Not only do they have a prehistoric dragon collection, but they have assembled a Nundu skeleton in the wizarding annex.

How do you feel about going to a zoo? There is a huge zoo in Brookfield and I haven't been there, yet.

We could go to the Art Museum. Or the Museum of Science and Industry.

Once we're past next week, I intend to take driving lessons and get a car. We could take a second week later in the summer and travel a bit. I think the drive between Chicago and Roger's territory in northern Wisconsin would be pretty.

From there, we could drive through northern Michigan and go to Mackinaw Island. It is all very Victorian and has a ban on motor vehicles. We could stay at the Grand Hotel and play tourists on the island.

You do know that at some point, Draco will want us to go out with him and Anita. Perhaps they'd like to go to one of the museums with us?

As for restaurants, I have a long list of places for us to dine. We'll start at the Greek Isles and then we'll make our way to Seven Treasures for Chinese food. Nick's Fish Market and Grill offers wonderful seafood. For Italian beef sandwiches, we have to go to Portillo's. They have a great antipasto salad, too. For steaks, we should go to Morton's.

There are so many immigrants to the Chicago area; there are hundreds of ethnic restaurants in the neighborhoods. If we wanted to find Egyptian cuisine, Brazilian food, or go to a German restaurant, we could find them.

Give some thought about where you might like to go and I'll research it.

Love,  
Hermione

* * *

Owl Mail  
June 17th, 1999  
Minerva to Chester

Chester,

I would enjoy having dinner with you. I'll bring the wine.

Minerva

* * *

E-mail Communication  
June 17th, 1999

To: Daniel Schuler; DigitalMage at a w l . c o m  
From: Roger Littlehorse  
Date: June 17th, 1999  
Re: Progress

I have good news. Draco achieved his Animagus form today. He held it for three minutes before he reverted. I was right in my guess of whether it would turn out to be the Piasa bird or a peregrine falcon. By tradition, I cannot tell you which it is. Only Draco can do that. We're going to practice again tomorrow and Saturday. I hope to get him up to ten minutes of sustaining his form before he goes into battle. Believe me, his form will be useful.

Give the boy credit for his persistence. I didn't think it was possible to achieve the transformation in less than a month. His determination to protect his parents has accomplished the next best thing to a miracle.

If it is any reassurance, if he brings that degree of commitment to his relationship with Anita, combined with that kind of power, you can quit worrying.

He is considering inviting you, Anita, and Hermione to join him on Saturday for Animagus practice so you can see his form.

Limnoreia and I are going to Britain Friday afternoon to help with last minute preparations. We'll need to communicate by paired journals after that. I'll be staying at the Order's headquarters in London.

* * *

June 17th, 1999  
Morning  
Countdown: 4 days, 5 hours, and 20 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

Jean and I are charming the catnip mice she bought at the pet store, trying to make them insubstantial enough for the ghost cats to play with. She brought a whole bag full of different cat toys for us to experiment with. We have sticks with feathers dangling from them, colorful plastic balls with bells inside, and catnip mice made from felt.

In addition, Anita bought a laser pointer that shines a pinhead sized light on the wall.

I've already tried that one with Crookshanks. He's decided he's too dignified to chase it. However, he's not too dignified to chase a plastic ball with a jingling bell inside it. The problem is that Snowflake wants desperately to play with the ball, but passes right through it.

"Try this one," I ask Cindy.

She reaches out to see if she can touch the feather. Her hand passes through it, but it moved.

"I could feel it," says Cindy, excitedly. "You made progress with that one."

Calamity Jane is sitting on her shoulder and Snowflake is on her lap. The three of them are inseparable, whereas Spooky is most likely to follow Crookshanks around. We've learned that all of the cats are girls. I wonder if Crooks scared off all of the boys so he could have a harem. Not that any action is going to take place between my tomcat and the ghosts.

"Let's add a little extra flick to it, like we did to adjust the density of the orbs" suggests Jean. "Maybe decreasing the density will help."

We work out the wand movements and Jean tries it on one of the balls. It turns silvery. She tosses it to Cindy, who is able to hold it for an instant before it falls through her hand.

"Let's see if Snowflake is able to play with it," says Anita.

Cindy puts Snowflake down next to the ball. The kitten bats at it and it rolls a few inches and jingles. She bats at it again and she chases it as it rolls away. She catches up with it and leaps on it, only to pass right through it. Undaunted, Snowflake spins and bats it again.

"It looks like she can touch it for short periods of time," I conclude. "That's a very good start."

"It's a good thing, too," says Cindy, smiling fondly at the white bundle of fluff. "Snowflake wants to play all the time and my feather has taken a real beating."

The feather in Cindy's headband is looking rather bedraggled. Fortunately, it springs back to shape within an hour or so of the kitten mangling it again.

Jean sits cross legged on the floor. Using her wand, she flicks the silvery ball so that the kitten can chase it. We watch Jean play with the kitten for a while. It's so nice to do something that is normal for a change. Right now, the thought of war and all of the rest seems so far away.

"We're going to take these others up to my apartment," says Anita, looking down at Jean and the kitten. "It's time to watch Oprah and we'll finish them up there."

"I'll bring the gang upstairs when they're done playing," says Jean. "I think Crookshanks and Spooky are up in the tree."

Anita and I trudge our way up to the top floor of the apartment building. Usually, we all hang out in Draco's apartment. I suppose it would be rude to go in when he isn't home. I hope his Animagus training went well today.

In short order, we are sitting in Anita's living room listening to Oprah and charming cat toys.

"I wanted to talk to you out of earshot of Cindy and the cats," says Anita, looking serious. "Draco and I have been talking about what to do if something bad happens on Monday."

Anita starts to sniffle and I can feel myself starting to tear up. She blurts out what is on her mind.

"I just want you to know that Crookshanks will be here with me. I'm keeping this building, I'm keeping Cindy, and I'm keeping the cats. I'll take care of all of them. That's all there is to it," she says, all in one unsteady breath.

I'm trying very hard not to burst into tears.

"That being said," she says, turning on a smile and trying to change the subject. "When you come back in triumph, how would you like to take a yoga class with me this summer?"

We start to laugh and then it turns into tears.

"I don't know what I'll do if something happens to Draco," Anita chokes out, clutching my hands so tightly that they hurt.

"There's a lot of people who are going to fight to keep that from happening," I sniffle in return, summoning a box of tissues from the bathroom. "We're going to attack before the initiation ceremony gets very far. He'll be joining in on the fight just as soon as the fliers start bombing Voldemort."

"That's just it," says Anita, taking a tissue and blowing her nose. "He'll be fighting Death Eaters. You'll be fighting Death Eaters."

"The best fighters I know will be there on our side," I insist, blotting my eyes. "We've been told that there probably won't be more than forty Death Eaters there. We'll have the advantage of numbers. Some of our members are magical police officers and others have been fighting in magical wars since World War II. We've been preparing and training for this. We're ready.

"Still," I add softly, "I'm glad to know that if I don't make it, Crooks will be with you and that you'll look after Cindy and her cat menagerie. And yes, I'd like to take the yoga class with you."

We both burst into tears after that. For once, I'm tired of being brave when everyone I love is on the line.

* * *

Hermione's To Do List

Take leftovers down to boiler room for Cindy  
Laundry  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox.  
Research ways to improve sex life  
Pack beige lace nightgown in weekender bag  
Wash catsuit  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox  
Leave note for Edgar and Dorothy with tip  
Get rid of vibrator

* * *

June 17th, 1999  
Evening  
Countdown: 3 days, 23 hours, and 40 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

I'm loaning Jean my small bottomless trunk to hold all of the supplies she is taking to headquarters. The Happy-Sleepy orbs are in there. With the extra fire bladder extract, we were able to make a total of thirty-four orbs. That gives us one for each of the twenty fliers and fourteen extra for resupply.

In addition, I'm sending a variety of medicinal potions that I've brewed in my kitchen from my private stock of ingredients. There is no way of knowing what will be needed.

On top of that, Draco is sending five of the Harley Davidson Professional Series Quidditch brooms for any of the fliers who need one. He is determined that each of the fliers will have the best possible broom to take into battle. Anyone who doesn't have anything better than a twenty year old Cleansweep will be able to trade it for a top of the line model. With the going rate on those brooms, he had to have spent a fortune on them.

Draco is bent over the trunk, checking the stabilization charms.

"The stabilizers are in top notch shape and the cushioning charms are good," announces Draco, straightening up. "I reinforced the shatter-proofing and crush-proofing. Those orbs aren't going to shatter if a Nundu steps on the trunk."

"Excellent," says Jean, tossing one more of the silvery plastic jingle balls to Snowflake. The kitten pounces on it and rolls on top of it. Snowflake seems to be learning how to keep the toys solid enough in her world so that she can play with them.

Jean's a sucker for kittens and puppies. I think she'd take Snowflake back to Britain with her, if she could figure out a way to do it.

Draco holds out his hand. Jean takes it and they shake hands solemnly.

"I want to thank you for all that you've done to help me and my family," he says, formally. "I won't see you again until we share the battlefield on Monday. However it all turns out, I owe you a debt that exceeds all possibility of repayment. Please know that you can call on me at any time as an ally, a defender, and a friend." Draco closes his statement with a bow.

This must be one of those Pureblood cultural things that I'm never quite sure about, since they don't exactly write about them.

"I accept your friendship, your defense, and your alliance, Draco Malfoy," replies Jean, bowing in return. "You do understand that this is completely separate from your father. I cannot extend friendship, although I will stand defense and in alliance with him."

"I had a feeling that there was some bad history between you and my father," says Draco, shrugging. "I don't know exactly what happened, but it usually involves him making a pass at a woman who didn't want that."

"Something like that," replies Jean, dismissively. "That is between me and your father. It is completely separate from this business that we're dealing with right now. I'll fight as hard as I have it in me to fight to prevent Riddle from fulfilling his plans, but I would do that for anyone. I'm a member of the Order for a reason.

"You are your own man, Draco Malfoy," asserts Jean. "You are someone I'm proud to call a friend and to stand with in defense and alliance. You've earned it."

I've rarely seen Draco so rattled. He looks astonished, pleased, scared, and moved, all at the same time. I think Jean just took the foundations of his universe and gave them a good shaking.

"Thank you," he says, apparently at a loss for words. He's usually more flowery in what he says when it is one of those Pureblood things.

Jean leans forward and says in a whisper loud enough for me to hear.

"Besides, I'm the one who turned your father's roots brown."

Draco looks at Jean in awe.

"So, you're the one who got the drop on Dad," he says. "Bloody hell, I thought it was Mum!"

Jean laughs and pulls Draco up for a hug. He embraces her tightly for a moment and then lets go.

As soon as Draco steps back, I move in. I'm holding onto Jean for dear life and hoping I don't burst into tears again. There aren't any words this time, just patting each other on the back and sniffling.

Jean lets go first. She wipes her eyes. I blow my nose.

"Take care of yourselves," she says, shaking her head and collecting herself. "I'll see you both on Monday."

"I'll be at Headquarters on Monday morning," I reply, trying not to choke up.

Draco hovers the trunk inside the transportation room and sets it on the floor.

Cindy is floating by the door, along with Snowflake and Calamity Jane. Jean walks to the door and Snowflake proceeds to attack her foot. Jean bends down and passes her hand over the kitten in a close approximation of petting. Snowflake looks up and purrs.

"She's going to miss you," says Cindy, smiling. "You'll have to come back and visit often."

"That's the plan," says Jean. "I'll see all of you soon."

The door closes and Jean disappears.

Draco holds out a hand. I take it and he squeezes mine.

* * *

Letter on Second Shelf Inside Refrigerator  
June 17th, 1999

Dear Dorothy and Edgar

I just want you to know how much I enjoyed getting to know both of you. I don't think of you as service-elves. You've become friends. Please accept this token of my friendship. You might use it to go out to dinner. Dorothy shouldn't have to cook all the time.

Thank you for your kindness during my stay in America.

And the lasagna!

Hermione

* * *

Paired Journal Entry  
June 17th, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Hermione,

I think it is important to schedule "catching up on sleep" into our vacation. I cannot remember the last time I felt like I had had enough sleep.

One more day and N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s will be finished. I am pleased to report that my Slytherins have done well on Ancient Runes – at least from the initial speculation from the examiner. I have great hopes that Slytherin shall do well this year, overall.

I fear that without you to raise the general level of intelligence and grades among the Gryffindors, they will not fare as well as they did last year.

As stressful as the examinations are for the students, they are also stressful for staff. We are often called on to invigilate examinations, in addition to continuing classes for students who are not taking N.E.W.T.s or O.W.L.s. We hold group study sessions for those who need them and deal with others who are having anxiety attacks.

Last night, the four Heads of Houses conducted a planned raid on Hufflepuff at Professor Sprout's request. It seems that _Tea with Ginseng_ bottles have been finding their way into Hufflepuff and to other Houses from there. Hagrid confiscated a bottle from a sixth year Gryffindor and brought it to Minerva. She interrogated the culprit and learned who was selling them.

The bottle was turned over to me and I conducted an analysis. The contents were simply cheap red wine – nothing terribly significant there. The "tea" bottle had extensive warding on it that was designed to convince other wards that there was only tea with ginseng in the bottle.

When Filius and I started removing the wards, layer by layer, we expected to find one of the twin's magical signatures at the base. The magic was constructed in a manner we have found to be typical of a Weasley product. Much to my surprise, Filius determined that the magical signature was consistent with what he has found on Zonko's products.

That discovery led Albus to pay a call upon Willard Zonko, Sr. at his shop. Mr. Zonko denied responsibility and summoned Willard Zonko, Jr. to comment.

As it turns out, Willard Zonko, Jr. is responsible for the Tea with Ginseng bottles. That includes the ones in yours and Draco's apartments. While he is not in trouble for those, he is in trouble for sending his products to Hogwarts.

That will get him in trouble with the Board of Governors. Sending the bottles to Hufflepuff in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes boxes disguised to look like boxes from Flourish and Botts will get him in trouble with Flourish and Botts and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Personally, I think he is at far greater risk from the wrath of the Weasley twins.

I am feeling quite vindicated in trusting the twins to keep their promise not to send any products to Hogwarts that I have not personally examined.

After all of this, we decided that we had to do a thorough inspection of the castle to ensure that this product was removed from the premises. The house-elves and ghosts were requested to check for contraband in all unused classrooms, storage rooms, and rooms of any sort or kind. Minerva, Filius, Pomona, and I conducted a complete inspection of Hufflepuff. The Prefects of the other Houses were required to swear wand oaths and inspected their own houses.

There are now sixteen cases and thirteen odd bottles of Tea with Ginseng deposited in Albus' office. I have determined that four cases and two bottles actually contain a very good brand of gin. The rest is cheap white or red wine.

You can guess which is being saved for the staff end of term tea party. Fortunately, it occurs after the Hogwarts Express departs. Totally inebriated Hogwarts teachers (especially Sybil) are not a fit sight for innocent children, nor for those who attend Hogwarts.

Not being above petty larceny, I intend to keep some of the bottles and fill them with good fire whisky to keep at your apartment. If the authorities should ever opt to raid the apartment building because of underage drinking, you shall not be caught.

I have perused your list of dining establishments and believe that we should make a point of visiting all of them. It will probably take years to do so, but I am willing to make the commitment. I believe I would prefer the scampi recipe. Feel free to be generous with the garlic.

Sleep well.

Yours,  
Severus

* * *

Letter Magically Sealed to be Delivered Upon Death  
June 18th, 1999  
Harry to Ginny

Dear Ginny,

If you are reading this letter, it means that I didn't make it through the battle. I suspect you've heard all about it already. Depending on how things went, you're either at Hogwarts or somewhere in America.

I love you. I just want you to know that. My first thought every morning is of you. My last thought before I go to sleep is of you.

I am absolutely certain that my last thought was of you.

Whatever has happened, I want you to be happy. I won't ask you not to grieve. If our positions were reversed, I know how impossible it would be for me to comply with that request.

I do ask that you go on with your life. Become a Mediwitch, like you planned. Or, be something else, if you change your mind. Look after your family and yourself. Make new friends. Find someone to love and know that you have my blessing. I want you to have a full life, with all of the good things it has to offer.

I'm not alone over here. I've got Mum and Dad. Sirius is here, too. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

When the time comes for you, many years from now, I'll be one of the first to welcome you home.

Yours, always  
Harry

* * *

June 18th, 1999  
Afternoon  
Countdown: 3 days, 2 hours until sunset on June 21st

Hermione

I finish bottling the Revitalizing potion. The vials will need time to cool down and then I'll label them.

Draco and Anita have been holed up in his apartment all day. I suspect that will continue into the night. I can't blame them. If Severus weren't busy invigilating N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, I'd kidnap him and we'd spend the next forty-eight hours together.

Given that I can't do that, I'm hoping to steal tomorrow night with him. I'm considering sneaking off to headquarters. I know he has to go to the Manor on Sunday to supervise the beginning of Draco's retreat and fast. The Dark Lord has to let him return to Hogwarts to teach classes on Monday. Lucius Malfoy is supposed to sit with his son until Severus returns.

When the battle starts, Draco won't have eaten anything for 24 hours. This Revitalizing potion will help replace the nutrients and calories he missed, along with giving an energy boost. If I could sell this potion on the Muggle market, I'd make a fortune.

All I have to figure out is how to get it Draco, given that he won't be able to have anything in his pockets during the initiation. I don't know if they'll search Severus. I'll have to ask. I wonder if Dobby could take it to the Manor and get it to one of the house-elves to give to Draco. I'll wait until Draco comes up for air, rather than interrupt.

Meanwhile, I have some time. Time to do an Internet search. I sit down at the computer and start typing in the subject search space on the Avalon College library screen.

_Premature ejaculation_

I hit enter and watch the time turner symbol on the screen spin as my request is processed.

Wow. There are quite a few articles here. Time to read.

Three articles later, I get up and fix myself a cup of tea. Cindy and the cats are in the living room. She's watching Batman, the second in a series of movies in her Michael Keaton film festival. It looks like Calamity is asleep on her lap and Snowflake is asleep on her shoulder. I need to buy a camera so I can catch moments like this.

Returning to the computer, I think I have a pretty good grasp (snicker) of the mechanics of premature ejaculation. It is more common than I thought, if research shows that almost half of men finish in less than two minutes.

I do another search and now have a series of charms

listed on the screen. All of them are designed to be cast on a woman to make her man last longer.

I have more reading to do.

* * *

Hermione's To Do List

Take leftovers down to boiler room for Cindy  
Laundry  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox.  
Pack beige lace nightgown in weekender bag  
Pack catsuit in weekender bag  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox  
Get rid of vibrator  
Pay bills  
Figure out what to wear for battle

* * *

Paired Journal Entry  
June 18th, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus,

We need to find a way to be together tomorrow night. It will be our last chance before the battle. Options:

I Portkey to the Burrow and then Apparate to Hogwarts. I can get in through the secret entrance at the base of the Astronomy Tower and make my way to your rooms.

I Portkey to the Burrow and then Apparate to Headquarters. You meet me there.

You Portkey to Chicago and we stay in my apartment.

I love you and I want to see you.

Hermione

* * *

June 19th, 1999  
Morning  
Countdown: 2 days, 12 hours, and 14 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Severus

Remus, Limnoreia, Bill, Jean, Chester, and I stand outside of the Dark Lord's cell in the cellar of Chester Sommersby's house in Wales. Roger is inside the cell and we are observing him through the window. He is using wandless magic to test the wards.

Each of the rest of us has taken a shot at attempting to break out of the cell by whatever means possible. The only assumption we are making is that the Dark Lord will not have a wand when he is incarcerated. If Happy-Sleepy fails and his magic returns, we must be prepared.

Bill used wandless hexes from ancient Egypt. Limnoreia attempted spells used to burrow through wards. Jean concentrated pure magical energy against the window. Remus used his greater physical strength as a werewolf and various pieces of furniture to try and break the window or force the door open. I used my skills as a Legilimens to attempt to apply a Compulsion on Chester to open the door.

I did not succeed, but Chester acknowledged that he felt the pull. Given that the Dark Lord is far more powerful than I as a Legilimens, he might actually succeed. Jean transfigured a cup from an old set of dishware stored on a shelf into a pair of mirrored sunglasses and put them on. I attempted to Compel Jean to open the door. I could not establish the necessary eye contact and felt the magic directed back to my own eyes.

Anyone who monitors the cell will be required to wear mirrored sunglasses so that the Dark Lord cannot make eye contact with them. That will prevent him from Compelling a guard into releasing him, assuming that Happy-Sleepy fails after a period of time.

Jean will make an excursion into the Muggle world this afternoon to purchase a dozen pairs of mirrored sunglasses.

Meanwhile, Roger is using tribal magic to attempt to force his way out of the room. He is actually the most proficient practitioner of wandless magic among us. Apparently, a considerable amount of tribal magic is wandless, since wands were not in common usage until the Europeans moved to the New World.

That last hex Roger hurled at the window made it rattle. The layers of warding applied by Chester, Remus, Albus, Limnoreia, and myself held solid.

Roger huffs as he sits down on the bed.

"That one was about as hard as I can throw a wandless hex without risking it bouncing back and blowing myself to smithereens," calls Roger through the window.

Limnoreia is running her wand along the window frame to see if there are any leaks. These tests are not only designed to keep the Dark Lord from breaking out, but to keep the Happy-Sleepy inside the cell. The last thing we need is to put guards at risk of ending up as addicts.

"The seals on the window are intact," she announces.

"How is the air in there?" asks Bill.

"It smells fresh," comments Roger, standing up.

"A dose of Happy-Sleepy will be misted into the room at fifteen minute intervals," I explain. "Our best guess is that it must be renewed every hour to suppress the Dark Lord's magic. We would rather break that dose into smaller amounts to keep the amount in his bloodstream steady."

"How do we change the dosage?" asks Jean.

"The instructions on how to change the dosage are kept here," says Chester, removing a clipboard from a cabinet across from the cell. "When Granger and Tonks let us know how many hits from Happy-Sleepy orbs were needed to intoxicate the Dark Lord, we'll adjust things accordingly. After that, the instructions will be taken upstairs and locked in a warded cabinet accessible only to the guards and those in authority."

"You can let me out now," calls Roger, who apparently has had enough incarceration. Limnoreia begins releasing the wards.

"Who has the information about this cell and how to access it?" I inquire. "The reality is that not all of us may come through this. We need to have back up."

"Any of us in this room can get into my house and this cell," replies Chester. "In addition, the following Order members will be able to come through the wards; Albus, Poppy, Minerva, Tonks, Kingsley, Arthur, Mark, Mike, Hermione, Harry and Ellen. I believe that should be sufficient back-up. If all of us are killed or on the run," he adds, bluntly, "I suspect it means that the attack has failed. In that case, the cell won't be needed."

"Indeed," I reply, appreciating the wry humor.

Roger steps out of the cell and stretches.

"Even though I knew I could get out of that cell at any time, just by asking," he remarks, "I didn't like the feeling of being in there."

Limnoreia moves to Roger's side and puts an arm around his waist.

"I don't blame you," she says. "It's uncomfortable and we're not in Azkaban. With the leftover magic from the Dementors, it must feel absolutely dreadful to be there. Not that I feel the least bit sorry for the Dark Lord."

"What's your assessment of the cell," asks Chester.

"It should hold," announces Limnoreia. "Is everybody absolutely certain that the Dark Lord is not an Animagus? The cell would hold in an insect form or a small animal. If he turns into a giant form like Roger's, we could be in trouble."

"If the Dark Lord had a form that was advantageous in battle," comments Remus, "we'd have seen it already."

"I agree," says Jean. "He wouldn't let an advantage like that slip by."

"You've seen more of him than any of us," Chester points out to me. "Have you seen any sign that the Dark Lord is an Animagus?"

"None," I reply. "Nor is there any speculation or gossip about it. There was some thought during the First War that he had a snake form, but I believe that arose out of incidents where Nagini was glamoured to look like a different species of snake."

"This cell could hold Nagini," declares Limnoreia.

"In that case," says Chester. "I do believe we are ready for company. I will confess that I shall be very glad when the Aurors have duplicated this cell in Azkaban and the Dark Lord can be transferred there. Having this here lends a whole new meaning to the idea of having a monster in the cellar."

* * *

June 19th, 1999  
Afternoon  
Countdown: 1 day, 21 hours, and 18 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Hermione

"There is no point in fretting," says Draco, waving his fork at me to make a point. "Severus has probably been busy all day with preparations on top of the end of term stuff at Hogwarts. There is no way of knowing what the Dark Lord has said to his followers, so the children of Death Eaters may know that something is going on and are probably watching him. He has to be careful. He may not even have had time to see your paired journal entry, especially with the time difference."

Draco was hungry, so we ordered a pizza. Anita is desperately trying to pretend that everything is normal, except that she is indulging anything that Draco wants at the moment. Under normal circumstances, she'd be telling him to suck it up and wait for the perfectly good dinner that Dorothy is preparing.

Of course, I'm not doing the same exact thing. This is why I brought out a bottle of the good red wine from my parents' collection. And why we are going to watch Draco's favorite movies tonight, featuring lots of explosions and special effects. I predict we'll be watching the Terminator series or Armageddon.

What is with Draco's fixation on end of the world movies?

Sigh. Draco is going to leave tomorrow morning to return to the Manor. It will be the middle of the afternoon in England when he arrives at his home in Wiltshire.

We talked it over and he doesn't think that there is any way he can risk having a vial of Revitalizing potion at the Manor, even if Dobby sneaks it in. He figures he'll be watched the whole time he's there. I'm going to keep it with me on the battlefield and hand it over to him, if I can.

I must admit that Draco's Animagus form is going to be very useful. His plan is to transform as soon as the fliers show up to start their strafing runs. The Death Eaters should be in disarray after seeing the Thunderbird fly in and destroy the wards. Having the guest of honor turn and fly off to help should add to the confusion. His father won't even know that Draco is able to do this. It should shock the heck out of everybody there.

Draco was positively preening this morning when we joined Mr. Schuler and Anita at Roger's place in Wisconsin. Even without Roger there, Draco's been managing to sustain his form for longer periods of time. We watched him fly about for almost ten minutes before he had to revert to human. Ten minutes is long enough for him to make an impact during the battle.

Mr. Schuler was very pleased that Draco managed to become an Animagus in less than a month. Anita was practically bursting with pride.

I told Draco that Harry would be green with envy. I think that just about made his day.

We celebrated with a picnic lunch that Wilhelmina sent with Anita. We all pretended that everything was normal.

I'm getting to like Mr. Schuler. Not only has he been a real ally to the Order, but he acted just like a dad with Anita and Draco. They made plans to go to a Cubs baseball game in a few weeks. Then, they talked about his plans to buy the Cubs in about ten years so that he can set them up with the right personnel and leadership so that they can win a World Series. The way he was talking, you'd think he had access to a prophecy about it.

I suppose that fits with the t-shirt he was wearing that said;

_Die Hard Cubs Fan  
__Any team can have a bad century._

Draco, Anita, and I returned to the apartment building after lunch. We're trying to cram a lot of talking and fun into one afternoon and pretend like everything will be back to normal in a few days.

I don't want to think about reality.

I wish Severus would write back.

* * *

Paired Journal Entries  
Severus to Hermione  
June 19th, 1999

Hermione,

Under no circumstances should you attempt to come to Hogwarts tonight. I cannot leave to come to you and must be seen all about the castle. There is reason to believe that my movements are being monitored.

I have concluded that I am being watched by students with Death Eater aspirations. Word has traveled to some of the Death Eater families that I am to be Draco's sponsor in the Death Eaters. As a result, I am now being viewed as a prestigious sponsor. This afternoon, I was approached by a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor with questions about becoming a Death Eater.

After I dealt with the students, I had a meeting with Albus, Minerva, Remus, and Bill. We were concerned that our plan to attack Malfoy Manor had been compromised. Remus contacted various publicly known members of the Order and it does not appear that any of them are being watched.

We believe that this is a test of my loyalty. The Dark Lord may be assessing how I deal with recruiting Death Eaters at Hogwarts. I have always walked a very fine line on this issue. The Dark Lord understands that I cannot overtly recruit potential Death Eaters at Hogwarts or I would lose my job. He wants me here to report on Dumbledore and Order activities. At the same time, I must deal with requests for information and deliver recruits to potential sponsors. The Dark Lord may be considering changing my instructions, given that he expects to be a child for the next eighteen years. I may find out more tomorrow when I join Draco at the Manor.

We are in agreement that I must be completely circumspect in my conduct until I leave tomorrow morning. A clerk at Scroll and Quill is prepared to say that I was in his shop this morning when I was actually at Sommersby's house in Wales. A receipt showing purchases of ink, parchment, and a new DictoQuill with today's date fell from the parcel I carried to my office. The Bloody Baron, who is patrolling the hallways around my quarters, office, and classroom has reported that the receipt was pocketed by one of the fifth year Slytherins.

If I could spend this night with you, I would. It would be foolhardy to try. Do not attempt to sneak into Hogwarts. Do not borrow Potter's invisibility cloak. In two days, we will have the rest of our lives. We should not risk exposure when we are so close to the end of all of this.

Write to me and tell me you have read this message.

Write to me and tell me that you understand.

Write and tell me.

Yours,  
Severus.

_Severus, are you still there?_

I am here and relieved that you opened your journal.

_Cindy, Edgar, and I were just doing a patrol of the building. Draco and Anita have turned in for the night. Everything is secure and there is no sign of anybody watching the building, except for the Digital Magic Security agents. Edgar knows who they are and talks to them regularly._

_Give me a minute to read through your letter._

_Okay. Done reading. Drat. I was going to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak and come to Hogwarts. I envisioned us spending part of the night in that magnificent bath of yours. _

We shall have to wait until after the battle and after the dunderheads have left on the Hogwarts Express. I and my bath shall endeavor to be completely at your disposal.

_Are you still being watched? It's very late in Scotland. The students should be in their common rooms._

There is a rather sophisticated detection ward that has been placed at each end of the hallway leading to my office and quarters. Minerva investigated it earlier in her cat form and provided Limnoreia with a description. It is Limnoreia's estimate that it is designed to detect when a person passes through the wards and registers the person's age and gender. Any more than that and the person would feel evidence of the presence of the ward.

_Do you have any idea who set it?_

Albus thinks that a particular seventh year Ravenclaw set it. She is exceptionally skilled at charms and wards. There are members of her family who are sympathizers and one is known to me to be a Death Eater. I will try to learn more tomorrow.

_LeDrox might know. _

She may know. I will ask her about it. If not, I may learn something on Monday when the Dark Lord arrives for the ceremony.

_You should ask her. She may trust you enough to share confidences._

Hermione, you know I do not wish to have that kind of relationship with her.

_I wish you didn't have to, but as long as you do you should make use of what she can tell you. I don't want you to be at any disadvantage_.

I do not want to make you uncomfortable. I know how I would feel if you had to participate in courtship with Marcus Flint as a part of your cover for an assignment. I would want to dismember him for even thinking of you in such a manner.

Hermione?

Hermione, are you still there?

_I'm here. I was just thinking about what you wrote and how to answer. I love you and I know that you love me. Our relationship is real. It's the most solid thing in my life. _

_Since March, I have had to pretend in public that I love Bill. I've had to act like that. It isn't bad, because he knows it isn't real. He knows that I love you and he agreed to playact our romance from the beginning. We've become good friends in the process._

_It must be so much harder for you to play this role, because it is so false. You aren't her friend. You are prepared to kill her on Monday, if you meet her in battle. You have to manipulate her feelings and use her. _

_She may be the enemy, but she's still a person. Do you feel guilty for doing this?_

Yes. I recognize the necessity, but it is cruel to mislead her.

_Exactly that. Necessary, but cruel. _

_I keep telling myself that I shouldn't feel jealous that she is getting this kind of attention from you. At an intellectual level, I understand and accept what you are doing. At an emotional level, it is much more difficult._

Perhaps like a bit of the jealousy I have felt about Bill when you behaved like his girlfriend in front of me?

_Were you jealous? I couldn't tell from the way you behaved._

You have said before that I am a good actor.

_You are. You've had to be._

In two days, I will be able to set aside the act.

_We both will. Will you write to me in the morning before you leave?_

I will.

_I love you._

I love you, too.

* * *

Paired Journal Entry  
June 19th, 1999  
Draco to Severus

Severus,

I won't see you until you arrive at the Manor and I am leaving my journal at my apartment. We won't be able to talk privately, so I wanted to let you know that I have achieved my Animagus form. I can't sustain it for long. With the stress, I may not be able to maintain for more than a few minutes at a time.

Roger taught me using Navajo techniques. I am expected to follow the tribe's traditions in how it is revealed and used. Navajo was never intended to be a written language. Therefore, I cannot tell you my form in writing. You have to hear it from my lips or see it when I transform. I will try to find a way to tell you, if I can do so safely.

If not, I plan to transform as soon as the fliers arrive on the scene. With Roger's Thunderbird showing up, followed by the fliers, the scene should be chaos. My transformation will add to that.

The only thing is that when I first transform, I have been forgetting that I am human and start seeing things around me as food or an enemy. You may need to pull Father and get yourself out of the way. Leave me to deal with any Death Eaters who might be heading in our direction and use the opportunity to get into the trees and out of the direct line of fire until our ground troops start to arrive.

If I can hold my form for 5 minutes, I'll be able to distract them until it is time for you and Father to join the fight.

I will see you tomorrow. I have memorized everything, have all the responses practiced, and am ready to appear a loyal Death Eater trainee.

Until we kick their collective arses all to hell.

Draco.

* * *

Author's notes:

Thank you to Snakegirl-Sprockett for her suggestions on names for the Runespoor.

Thanks to all of my inspiring and thought-provoking reviewers: Magicdaisy, o0morgana0o, Yasmin, Mugglemomof3, Lipasnape, Pickles87, Murgy31, Darque Hart, Persevero, MollysSister, KellyRoxton, Luvinthunder, Lyndie578, Klschmidt, Inspire, Perwinkle, Sylphides, Maddie50, Laurenke, Mia Madwyn, Puella Deorum, Droxy, KimJo, Sinkme, Ceralyn, MissMelysse, Sunsethill, Andi-Scribbles, Keske, Fatalani-Zabini, Blue Artemis, Karla Manatee, Oscarxena, CharmedForce, Kirien, Gwennish, Arc.black, Duj, MamaJMarie, Koliber, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Rinny08, Jocemum, T-wrecks, Alison, Notwritten, Traceyww, Phoenix's Feather, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Seth7, Mela, Erytha, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Yapyap, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, ILoanADogma, MoreThanSirius, Wynnleaf, GreatGinny, Shadow, Excessivelyperky, Mother of Tears, Brilliant, FrenchWine, MysticSong1978, TrulyAmused, Hgelman, Snapeygirl, AmandaMarie, Jade2099, and Anarane Anwamane.


	100. Chapter 100

This special posting is in honor of the anniversary of the Battle of Malfoy Manor, which took place nine years ago today.

Be sure to thank Julia. She figured out that the battle chapters would be happening right about this time and suggested that we aim to post today. Her input _always_ makes the story better.

Thank you to Katyes, who has translated 89 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German.

* * *

June 20th, 1999  
Countdown: 1 day, 13 hours, and 15 minutes until sunset on June 21st  
Severus

"Draco and I have already discussed it," I explain. "He will have Pudding activate the rose garden as soon as the house-elves can see spell flash in the hills to the south. The most direct route from the hills to the Manor would go directly through that part of the grounds. Any Death Eaters who try to escape by running to the Manor will be caught there. Believe me, it will not be a pretty sight."

"I will make certain to warn all of our fighters when we gather tomorrow," replies Albus. "I presume only the family and yourself will be able to pass through the rose garden unscathed."

"Yes," I reply. "I have the privileges of a member of the immediate family. If Narcissa breaks away, she will be able to use that route. She will know to go through the rose garden. Anyone who pursues her will face the rose bushes."

"Is there any chance that the Death Eaters know about it?" asks Minerva.

"I doubt it," I reply, shaking my head. "The charms are part of the Malfoy Manor defenses. Those secrets are guarded carefully and no one has attempted to launch an assault on the Manor in the last three or four generations."

"It's a good thing that the Aurors haven't tried," remarks Jean. "It wouldn't go well for them."

"I remember Olivia Wardlaw Malfoy," says Albus, leaning back in his chair. "She was a dear friend of my grandmother. The rose garden was her creation. I remember playing in it as a boy."

"As long as you did not attack a member of the family, you were safe," I reply with a smirk. "Otherwise, you would have met an untimely fate via Madam Malfoy's Damask and Bourbon roses."

"Narcissa prefers classic roses?" asks Minerva, stirring her tea.

"There are modern breeds interspersed among her heritage collection," I reply, smirking. "It is the Perpetual Damask and Bourbon roses that one must watch out for."

"I'll remember to come through the front door," mutters Jean. "At least I'll only have to deal with Dark Magic wards and not killer rose bushes."

"If Roger takes down all the wards on the estate," I reply, "You might not have to deal with those, either."

"I will confess to being hopeful," says Albus, stroking his beard. "If Professor Littlehorse can break the wards on the Manor, we will not have to start the battle with one of our people committing suicide."

I note that he does not specify that Sommersby has offered to kill himself to bring down the wards.

"In spite of it being a voluntary act," Albus continues, "I worry about the impact of such a deed on our efforts. Starting a magical battle with a suicide sets a tone that may affect the magical underpinnings of the area."

"Are you suggesting that it might influence others to commit suicide?" asks Jean, skeptically.

"It might lead others to engage in risky behavior that could end up being self-destructive," offers Minerva. "It is a battlefield and the temptation could be there, given the circumstances."

"Only Gryffindors," I reply, smirking.

"Not only Gryffindors," replies Minerva, rolling her eyes. "You were not present at the battle of Burg Rheingrafenstein. It was near the end of the war. Grindelwald was in hiding, but several of his closest associates were surrounded by our people at Rheingrafenstein. Raina Weiss, one of his most loyal followers, cut her wrists and bled to death to set the wards to keep us out."

"They were prepared for a magical siege that could have lasted for years," adds Albus. "Winter turned into spring and we made no progress until Radoslow Mortkowicz decided he had had enough. He was Muggleborn and his whole family had disappeared into Auschwitz. He followed the example of Madam Weiss and cut his wrists."

"He sent a silver message just in time to bring Gaius to him so that the wards could be brought down after he died."

Minerva is twisting the gold wedding band on her finger.

"It was the only battle that took place during the Grindelwald War involving voluntary sacrifices," she continues. "I was still new to our forces at the time. After we were married, Gaius commented that both sides took foolhardy risks and casualties were high on both sides because of it. He believed that the suicides had an influence on the magical foundations of the castle, predisposing the fighters to take death defying chances."

"Which is another reason to be hope that no one will need to kill themselves to allow the battle to go as planned," says Albus.

"I hate to bring this up," says Jean. "But, what if the Dark Lord moves the initiation ceremony somewhere other than Malfoy Manor?"

"I dread the possibility," I reply, "Because it means that Draco will be Marked. We cannot prevent it under those circumstances. However, the Dark Lord will return to the Manor after the ceremony to conduct his threesome with Lucius and Narcissa. He has been convinced by her arguments that to give his new body the most auspicious of beginnings, the threesome must take place in the Malfoy marriage bed. She is doing her own fasting and prayers in preparation for conceiving a child. The Dark Lord is intrigued by Old Magic and rituals. He has agreed to comply with this one."

"Our whole plan is based on catching him outdoors," complains Jean. "We can't bombard him with Happy-Sleepy filled orbs if he is in the master suite at Malfoy Manor and in bed with Lucius and Narcissa."

"Yes. We. Can." Albus states it as strongly and firmly as he possibly can.

I nod in agreement as my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.

"Lucius and Narcissa have made their choice," I state, looking down at my hands. "They want Draco to survive and the Dark Lord taken down. They have communicated it to me several times and to Albus through messages delivered by Dobby."

"If it means addicting them to Happy-Sleepy," declares Albus, "then, we shall do it. If it means killing one or both of them in the process, we will do it. We must capture the Dark Lord. We cannot allow him to escape again and find another way to wreak havoc on our world. It must end, whatever price we must pay."

"I agree," I add. "In all of these years, we have never known where he would be at a given time so that we could deal with him. This may be the only chance we will have until he is a child, again. To kill deal with him then will kill the Malfoys anyway. We have to do it now."

"Now," says Minerva, looking anguished. "Now, before he is a child."

Jean nods, frowning. "None of us want to be faced with killing a child, even if the Dark Lord's mind and soul is hiding in that body. It's too close to becoming what he is."

* * *

Hermione's To Do List

Take leftovers down to boiler room for Cindy  
Quit worrying about Ima LeDrox.  
Finish laundry  
Get rid of vibrator  
Figure out what to wear for battle

* * *

Hermione  
June 20th, 1999  
Countdown: 1 day, 5 hours, and 24 minutes until sundown on June 21st

"It may be a few weeks before I can return," says Draco, walking swiftly towards the stairs, "But, I'll do my best to be back here before July 1st. We've got sixteen tenants moving in that day and it'll be a zoo."

"We'll be ready, Mr. Malfoy," says Edgar, trotting down the stairs with us. "All of the renovations will be done and the kitchen finished. The contractors and their tools and materials will be gone by the 29th. Dorothy and I will have plenty of time to clean the apartments and common areas. Dorothy asked me to tell you that she has the menus for July and August ready for your approval."

"Anita has agreed to take care of those things while I'm gone," says Draco. "I've signed a power of attorney for her, in case I'm held up longer than expected."

None of us will respond to what that might mean.

"I can check those tonight," says Anita, holding Draco's hand as we walk down the next flight of stairs. "I do hope lasagna will be on the menu every month."

"I believe that Dorothy would be amenable to such a suggestion," replies Edgar.

"Make sure that the furnished apartments are prioritized," instructs Draco. "Everyone except for Adam, Warren, and two other tenants are renting furnished apartments. Even if they end up transfiguring most of the furniture, I want it to look good when they move in."

"I have the list," says Edgar, calmly. "The apartments that are rented to summer tenants are first to be outfitted. The rest can be finished in July."

We reach the last flight of stairs. I can see Cindy and her menagerie waiting by the transportation room.

Draco's carefully packed suitcase is floating ahead of me. Anita and I kept him company while he went through his bureau and floated garments out of his closet, which folded themselves carefully in his luggage. Nothing Muggle found its way into the suitcase.

Draco was so hungry for company, he didn't even seem to care that I was getting a front row view of his underpants. I could have done without seeing the pair of briefs with the Batman insignia on the front. Those refolded themselves and flew back into the chest of drawers. I really hope that Anita gave him the bateroos and that they aren't some sort of Death Eater Speedos.

I wonder how Severus would look in a Speedo? A bat symbol would certainly be appropriate for him.

"Have I got everything?" Draco muttered to himself.

"You do," said Anita, reassuringly. "We checked the list."

"I've got your vial of the Virgo Curato and the Revitalizing potion," I repeat. "I'll find a way to get them to you on the battlefield."

"Good. I'll be watching for you," says Draco, only half-focused on our conversation. "Don't be surprised if I end up flying in your direction," he adds with a grin.

"I'll remember to hold them up and duck," I retort, teasing.

Draco laughs and then frowns. "Where's my wand?" he asks, frantically patting his sleeves.

"It's in the pocket of your robe," says Anita in tones intended to soothe a wild beast.

Draco reaches down and plucks it out.

"Right," he says, looking relieved. "I've got my wand and everything I need to take with me."

He stops, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. A few breaths and the frenetic and anxious Draco is gone. In his place is the cool Slytherin Draco.

I haven't seen that Draco in a while.

Edgar takes a formal pose and bows his head for a moment.

"I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, Mr. Malfoy," he says. "Dorothy and I will be waiting for your return."

"Thank you, Edgar," says Draco, looking down at the diminutive service-elf. Impulsive Draco returns for a moment and holds out his right hand. It is angled to be shaken, not kissed.

Edgar reaches out in return and the two of them shake hands. Draco releases his hand and Edgar steps back.

Cindy floats forward. She looks more ethereal and silvery than usual. She's holding Calamity Jane, whose tail switches back and forth. Snowflake is playing with one of our charmed catnip mice, floating around Cindy's feet. Crookshanks and Spooky are sitting next to the door.

Funny how Crooks doesn't seem to notice the cold around the ghosts. Maybe his fur keeps him from feeling it

"I promise to keep an eye on things while you're gone, Draco," says Cindy, serious for once. "Anita will be perfectly safe."

"I'm counting on you for that," says Draco, with a teasing smile. "We've got sixteen tenants coming in less than two weeks. You'll be on _imparting wisdom_ duty after that. You'll keep them on their toes."

"I will," assures Cindy, softly. "I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am that you rescued me from Resurrection Cemetery and Archer Avenue. Since you and Anita brought your picnic blanket to the cemetery last year, I've had the chance to live in a building. I eat pizza on a regular basis and don't have to fight raccoons for it. You brought me friends and got me my cats. I have a home. For the first time since 1924, I have a real home. Go back to England and finish your business there. We'll be waiting for you when you get back."

The cool affect he'd managed a minute before looks like it is ready to shatter. If it weren't such an emotional moment, I'd ask about the picnic blanket at Resurrection Cemetery. I'll ask Anita later.

"Cindy," he says, his voice quavering. He doesn't trust himself to speak. He nods, instead.

Before he can do anything else, I step forward and pull him into a hug.

"Be careful, Malfoy," I whisper, trying very hard not to choke up.

"I will, Granger," says Draco, his pointy chin digging into my shoulder. "Watch out for yourself."

It's my turn to step back and join the others who are giving Anita and Draco some space.

They are wrapped up in each other, whispering back and forth. Saying things to each other that the rest of us are not entitled to hear. One movie screen worthy kiss and Draco releases her.

Urgency in every move, Draco opens the door of the transportation room and steps inside, along with his suitcase.

I move up beside Anita and put an arm around her shoulder. She's smiling bravely. Cindy must have drifted closer, because my back is cold.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," I call to Draco.

"I'll watch for you," he replies, picking up his suitcase. "I'll call you as soon as I can get to a telephone," Draco says to Anita.

Anita pulls her cell phone from her pocket and holds it up. "I'll be waiting for your call," she says.

The door closes. Draco is gone.

* * *

Severus  
June 20th, 1999  
1 day and 33 minutes until sundown on June 21st.

Narcissa has been allowed out of master suite and is presiding over the table as hostess for the traditional feast before the fast.

It has been several months since I have been in the formal dining room at Malfoy Manor. I have never liked it. Accustomed to the stone walls of Hogwarts, I feel overwhelmed by the ornate decorations. The gilded ceilings hold framed portraits of various and sundry gods and goddesses. Psyche winks at me as I admire her voluptuous form, barely concealed by scarves artfully draping her hips and Cupid's arm across one of her breasts as he carries her off.

The walls are covered with tooled leather from Spain. Life size family portraits are interspersed throughout the room. Agnes Malfoy, a renowned arrogant beauty of the Elizabethan era, sits in on a throne-like chair fanning herself. In the portrait across from her, daughter-in-law Cecily Malfoy was less beautiful than Agnes. She made up for it by doing away with her mother-in-law so she could access her jewelry. The jewelry was charmed to make the wearer appear far more attractive than she would be in real life.

Displayed along the north wall, Robert Malfoy was reputed to have stuck his aristocratic nose in Henry VIII's business with Anne Boleyn and very nearly had his head taken off for it. Philip Malfoy's portrait is in an impressively gilded frame. His fondness for his wife's white blonde hair is reputed to have caused him to charm all of their descendents to have the same hair color. This has probably made him the most popular of the Malfoy portraits.

The ebony dining room table can sit twenty-two people comfortably. Tonight, it is set for considerably less than that number. One could easily imagine nobility gathered here for fine dining and witty conversation. There are Death Eaters here tonight. Granted, all of us who are present tonight know how to use the silverware at each place and understand what a napkin is for. However, for all of our finery and reasonably acceptable manners, we are Death Eaters and have done things that Death Eaters do.

Perhaps in the Malfoy family line, we are not terribly unusual. I suspect the individuals represented by the portraits on the walls would feel right at home.

Bellatrix and Rudolphus are here in their post-Azkaban splendor. Bella has chosen emerald green satin, which emphasizes the greenish tint her skin acquired during incarceration. Rudolphus looks like he has raided Lucius' wardrobe, wearing an expensive set of pale blue robes. He looks distinctly uncomfortable and has tugged at the collar several times.

Bella actually seems to be doing better tonight. She has not embellished her gown to the point of embarrassment and the voices in her head appear to have taken a holiday. Except for her excessive interest in the bloodiest part of the roast, her manners have been acceptable. Rudolphus has not been playing with his knife tonight and is on his best behavior.

Fortunately, Greyback is attending the Dark Lord and is not here to influence his compatriots into inappropriate carousing or leave the rest of us to witness his atrocious eating habits. I have noticed that there seem to be fewer peacocks on the grounds since Greyback became a frequent visitor.

Rastaban is intent on eating his meal and has said little. His eyes dart and he continues to twitch at unexpected noises. Pettigrew has said little tonight, other than to comment occasionally on the excellence of the meal. He seems to be watching all of us. Perhaps Pettigrew will report his observations to the Dark Lord when he arrives tomorrow.

Draco looks the part of an upper class Death Eater supplicant. He is wearing tailored black robes, emphasizing the seriousness of this endeavor. His father, who is no longer taller than his son, is dressed in his usual dove gray robes. Narcissa's robes are pale lavender, accented by the amethyst necklace and bracelets she wears.

Then, there is Ima LeDrox. Tonight's selection is a soft blue watered silk. Her taste is impeccable, as are her manners. I cannot help but admire the sheen of her dark hair in the candlelight and the elegance of her hands as she gestures when she speaks. She is eloquent in her expression of her beliefs.

"The Statute of Secrecy is no longer sufficient to protect the wizarding world from discovery," insists Ima. "During my years in Europe, I learned to move between the wizarding and Muggle worlds. The technology they have developed poses a threat that magic cannot simply counteract. The day is gone when we can cast a glamour and pass unnoticed. They have cameras everywhere. Even the lower classes can afford to own such things. They have artificial satellites orbiting the earth, photographing every square inch. Can warding shield us from such invasion by a mechanical device hovering 60 miles above our heads?"

"Surely their cameras are not sufficient to photograph any detail from that high above the earth. They have not discovered us, yet," observes Lucius, accepting a slice of carrot cake.

I suspect that this is the recipe Draco solicited from the Schuler's service-elf. This is one more way of communicating to Lucius and Narcissa that help is coming.

"Miss LeDrox makes a very good point," says Draco, careful not to overtly contradict his father, while speaking to the group. "One of my duties for our Lord has been to monitor Muggle technology for advances that could endanger the magical world. Like Miss LeDrox, I have been moving between the wizarding and Muggle worlds. Thus far, Fidelius and other wards have been able to thwart spy satellites and other forms of technology. However, their technology is advancing by leaps and bounds because of computers and the number of people who are engaged in developing new technologies. Eventually, they will accidentally develop something that can see through our magical protections.

"That is exactly my point," emphasizes Ima. "Our numbers are insufficient to even begin to understand what they are doing. We must unite the wizarding world and pour resources into finding ways to subject Muggles to our will or they will find a way into our world."

"Surely our Lord's plans will address these issues," remarks Narcissa, furrowing her brow in delicate confusion.

"They do," I reply. "However, the situation may evolve faster than we can anticipate."

"We must be ready for anything," adds Pettigrew, sagely.

Nothing is said about the Dark Lord's immediate plan to replace his body with a new one conceived by Lucius and Narcissa. The Dark Lord has declared that he will tell Draco himself. Doubtlessly this is planned to occur after the initiation ceremony when he can torture Draco through his new Dark Mark, if Draco is displeased with this plan.

"Speaking of which," says Lucius, examining his pocket watch. "It is time for Draco to depart our company for his retreat."

All of us set our napkins aside and rise.

"As is our tradition," I announce. "Draco and I will begin the retreat together. In the course of the next twenty-four hours, each of my fellow Death Eaters who are here tonight will have the opportunity to sit vigil with him. I ask that you excuse us so we may begin the final leg of Draco's journey to becoming a member of our hallowed organization."

I am impressed with Narcissa as she shows every sign of taking great pride in her son's imminent initiation. She embraces him warmly.

"I am so pleased that you are ready to take on this responsibility," says Narcissa, with a bright smile. "You do know how proud I am of you?"

"I know, Mother," replies Draco, hugging her tightly. "You and Father have set the example of dedication and loyalty for me. I hope that I can live up to your expectations."

Narcissa places her hands on either side of Draco's face and gazes up into his eyes.

"You have always exceeded my expectations, son. In my heart, I know that you always will."

* * *

Hermione  
June 20th, 1999  
Countdown: 23 hours and 47 minutes until sunset on June 21st.

"You'd better get some sleep," says Anita. "You're supposed to leave in eight hours and the time difference is going to mess you up."

"I know," I reply, scratching Crookshank's ear. "I'm too wound up to sleep. I've got plenty of Revitalizing potion made, if I need it."

"You should lie down anyway," insists Anita. "I'll do a sleeping charm and you can get at least a few hours. You'll be busy tomorrow and who knows if you'll get a chance to sleep before…" Her voice trails away.

"Before the battle?" I finish for her.

We both sigh.

"You're right," I reply. "I'll be glad to accept that charm." I put my index finger under Crookshanks' chin and turn his head towards me. "How would you like to take a nap, big boy? Spooky can come with us, if she'll agree to stay at the end of the bed so I don't get cold."

Crookshanks and Spooky dash towards the bedroom. Anita and I stand there and laugh.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 21 hours and 36 minutes until sunset

"I'm really ready for this, Severus," says Draco, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "I've been preparing for a month and a whole life time of getting ready before that."

"We have prepared for this together," I reply, allowing Draco to see the double meanings within my words. "I cannot tell you how proud your father and I are to stand together at the ceremony."

We are sitting in the rose garden. The moon is just past first quarter and does not offer much light, but Draco and I know the garden well enough to sit in the dark and appreciate it. The roses are blooming and their scent is heavy in the air. The dancing maidens in the fountain are still for the night, but the sound of the water splashing from the vases they carry is soothing.

Draco and I have practiced the words of the ritual twice. If the ceremony proceeds very far at all, he will be ready to impress the Dark Lord with his fluency. We have spoken of the depth of the commitment he is making and what service to the cause will mean.

Everything has been carefully worded so that the listening spells will reveal nothing other than conversation expected between two true believers. I believe that Rudolphus is currently monitoring our every word. Pettigrew will probably be next.

I am looking forward to seeing Draco's Animagus form, whatever it may be. In his paired journal entry, he indicated that when he first turns, he does not remember being human. I am to get Lucius and myself out of the way so we are not mistaken for food. I wonder if he is going to be a giant form, like Roger's?

I will leave at 7 am to return to Hogwarts. I will be relieved at that time by one of the others who will supervise Draco during his vigil. I hope it is not Bellatrix. As his aunt, she has probably claimed time on the schedule. I will have to order her to refrain from conducting her own little loyalty tests on Draco. Perhaps assuring her that anything she does to Draco, I will do to her.

No. That might be misunderstood and she is perverse enough to consider Draco as a potential boy toy, even if he is her nephew. I shall offer to _hurt _her two times over, if she abuses him in any way.

Better choice. Bella knows that I am capable of it.

* * *

Hermione  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 17 hours and 43 minutes until sunset

I am walking through the forest. The sun is always bright overhead, peeking through the heavily leaved branches of the tree. My bare feet feel cool, walking through the fallen leaves on the soft ground. I can hear the sound of the brook off to my left. Turning, I find the path that leads to the edge of the creek.

The trees are thinner here and the bank of the brook is rocky and muddy. It doesn't matter and I hurry forward, looking for Otter.

It cheers me instantly to see him, waddling out of the woods and hurrying across the creek bank to dive into the water. I crouch down and wait for him. He's having fun, twisting and paddling about in the bubbling creek.

Two important things about crouching while in a vision, my legs don't get tired and my feet don't hurt.

I'm enjoying watching him. The sunlight sparkles on the water and makes his wet fur gleam. The sound of splashing is relaxing and the air is cool. It is peaceful here with my totem animal.

I hold my hand out over the water and Otter swims towards me. He does a back flip in the water and splashes. I can't help but squeal when the cold water hits me.

He's rolling over and swimming to the shore. He clambers out of the water and across the pebbles. He waddles to my hand and sniffs. He seems satisfied that I am me, so I lower my hand gently and he lets me scratch his head. After a little petting, he jumps and puts his front paws on my knee. I look into his eyes. They seem so old and wise.

_Protect._

I can hear it in my head.

_Protect._

A deep clear voice that is somehow from Otter.

_Protect._

"I will," I tell Otter, "Or you can protect me." I'm not sure why I said that. I just needed to say it.

Otter responds by shaking his whole body and flinging water all over me. It goes along with the muddy footprints on my nightgown.

I lose my balance and fall back on my rear end. I'm laughing at myself and laughing at Otter. He's looking at me and I swear he's laughing, too. He turns and dives back into the water. He somersaults and lies on his back, watching me as he paddles. I stand up and pull the wet nightgown away from my skin and give it a shake to get the excess water out of it

"I have to go, Otter," I tell him as he watches me. "It's almost time for me to go to England. I know that in your way, you'll be with me. I'll be glad for all of the help that you can give me tonight."

Otter dives beneath the surface of the water and swims across the creek. He climbs out of the water and turns to look at me.

"I'll come back in a few days, if I can. If something happens and I can't…"

Otter shimmies and shakes, spraying water off his fur.

"If I can't come here," I explain, "Maybe you can find me where I am?"

Otter gives his rump a good twitch and dashes off into the forest.

Sigh.

I wake up and the front of my nightgown is wet and has muddy Otter prints on it.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 16 hours and 32 minutes until sunset

Draco and I are in the chapel at Malfoy Manor. He is laying face down on the floor in front of the altar, arms spread wide. This is different from any Christian ritual where a supplicant lies on the ground in imitation of the cross. Draco's feet are pointed towards the altar. His head faces the rear of the chapel, where I have cast a small version of the Morsmordre for his contemplation.

The chapel holds many of the accoutrements of the Church of England. An aspiring Death Eater is expected to reject the comforts of traditional religion and accept the destiny offered by the Dark Lord. The Circle of Death Eaters has been promised that when the Dark Lord rises to full power, he will share his secrets of immortality. With immortality, there will be no need to rely on religion. The wizards of the Circle of Death Eaters will be as gods.

At least as the Dark Lord presents it.

What can I say? I was seventeen, angry, isolated, heartbroken, and a complete dunderhead when I accepted the Dark Mark. When I think of the adults who have accepted the Dark Lord's line of balderdash, I cannot believe they were so naïve and stupid. I can believe that I was so naïve and stupid. I wanted to belong so badly, I suspended all judgment.

As Draco continues his meditation, which probably contains prayers for forgiveness for this bit of acting, I take advantage of the silence and tranquility of the chapel to say a few prayers of my own.

_Bring us through this. Give us the strength we need and the wisdom to fight well. Bless us, keep us, guide us. Bring those of us who fall to you. I cannot ask for forgiveness for the wrongs I have done, but I ask for your understanding of the reasons behind them. _

_Most of all, preserve the people I love, especially Hermione. Grant us a future. If it is not to be, let me die with honor. Let me die free._

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
June 21st, 1999  
Hermione to Severus

Dear Severus

I was thinking about the first time that I realized I was falling in love.

It was about a month before Christmas. I already knew that I lusted after you. You have no idea just how sexy your hands are. By autumn, you were constantly on my mind.

Slender hands. Tapered fingers.

Whether you are chopping ingredients or stirring a cauldron, it is easy to imagine just how well you could apply your manual dexterity to other activities.

Getting to know you when we worked together made all the difference. You are so passionate about the things that are important to you. I admire your sense of honor and commitment. I adore your dry wit and sense of humor. That wonderful brain of yours intrigues me.

I found myself thinking of you as a lot more than just a sex object or my former professor. You became you. All of you.

That was when I really fell in love.

I will see you tonight. After tonight, we'll have all of the time in the world.

I love you. Be safe.  
Hermione

* * *

Paired Journal Communication  
June 21st, 1999  
Severus to Hermione

Dearest Hermione,

I am taking a few moments at lunch to write. I must leave immediately after I teach my last class and shall have no time after that.

Feel free to think of me as a sex object whenever you like.

I love you. I shall always love you.

I will see you tonight when the battle is over. Be careful.

We will be free to begin our future together.

Yours, always  
Severus

* * *

Hermione  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 15 hours and 18 minutes until sunset.

I just vanished my vibrator.

Sigh.

It is like saying goodbye to a dear friend. My first orgasm was because of that lovely battery powered chunk of flesh colored rubber.

I have a better source of orgasms, now. Severus and I will work out the problem he's having with finishing before I do. After tonight, we'll be able to see each other regularly and won't have the long dry spells we've had up until now. He has no objection to being viewed as a sex object.

I had to get rid of it. If something happens to me, I don't want whoever goes through my stuff to find my sex toy.

Assuming all goes well, I can always buy another.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 14 hours and 52 minutes until sunset

Pettigrew has come to relieve me.

Draco and I are sitting on the top of the hill that has been selected for his initiation. It is the one that we thought the Dark Lord would choose. It is furthest to the south and the other two hills shield it from being seen directly from either the Manor or the road at the far north end of the property.

We decided it would be a good place to watch the sunrise.

We were right. The sky has but a few clouds overhead. Our unimpeded view of the sunrise showed hues of red and gold, just as the sun crept over the horizon.

Lovely. I am treated to a Gryffindor sunrise on what might be the last day of my life.

On the other hand, a green and silver sunrise would make me nervous.

Draco and I were in the midst of a discussion of the Dark Lord's teachings on the role of Muggleborns in his empire when the rat joined us and transformed into his human self. Fortunately, Draco and I have been exceedingly circumspect in all of our conversation. We have assumed that others were listening at all times.

Draco and I both rise. Pettigrew conjures tall glasses of water for each of us, the only sustenance Draco will be allowed until the initiation is over. Draco drains his glass and returns it to Pettigrew, demonstrating his self-discipline. He will not nurse it over time to make it last. The water is purely for survival.

"How progresses your vigil, Draco?" asks Pettigrew.

I note that he is being careful not to sound patronizing. In the new order of things, Draco Malfoy will be the Dark Lord's big brother.

"I think it has been beneficial," replies Draco, sounding impressively sincere. "It has given me a chance to think about what I am committing myself to and what it really means to my life. To truly be a Death Eater may require enormous sacrifice to preserve what is best about our society. When I think of the example you set by living as a pet rat with the Weasley family, I am humbled."

"I did what was needed," says Pettigrew, modestly. "Severus remained at Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore in order to provide intelligence to our Lord upon his return. I stayed with the Weasleys so I could monitor activity among members of the Order and their sympathizers. Your father built his connections within the ministry. We all did our duty, just in different ways."

He says nothing about the fact that he was playing dead to save his own arse, that stammering fool-born hedge rat.

"Our Lord has given me the mission of learning about American wizardry and making connections there," says Draco. "When the time comes that he is ready to bring our movement there, I will have a good idea of where we need to start."

"When we are ready for expansion to North America, your contribution will be invaluable," says Pettigrew, scratching his chin with his silver hand. "The Dark Lord has plans within plans, sometimes far beyond what we can comprehend. Even though we may not understand where our contribution fits into the big picture, we have to hold true to our oath to serve. It is through service that we gain the privilege to stand with the Dark Lord."

"It is our expression of faith in his judgment," I add, supplementing the bullshit spouted by Pettigrew. Draco understands that this is all part of our on-going act to appear to be dedicated followers of the Dark Lord and his endless stream of philosophical piffle.

"Absolutely," Pettigrew agrees and lifts his head to look at me. "I am here to relieve you, since you have to return to Hogwarts."

"I should leave shortly," I reply in agreement. "I will plan to return about 5 pm, after classes are finished."

"Thank you, Severus," says Draco, offering a respectful bow. "It means a lot to me that we have had this time together to reflect."

"And to me," I reply with a bow.

Pettigrew sits down and gestures for Draco to join him. They are beginning a discussion of the structure and hierarchy within the Death Eaters. I turn and walk towards the Manor.

* * *

Hermione  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 14 hours and 37 minutes until sunset

I'm using one of my sturdy black waistcoats for this. The fabric is stain and tear proof, so it's ideal for laboratory work. With some transfiguration, I can wear it on the battlefield.

Looking at the image on the computer screen, I use the photographer's waistcoat as my guide. This thing has enough pockets and pockets within pockets to hold all kinds of supplies. Add Crush-Proof and Never-Fall-Out charms and I'll be set.

Anita is sitting on my bed with Crookshanks and the ghost cats. Cindy is hovering over by the window.

"The photographer's vest uses Velcro on the two top pockets, elastic on the pockets at the waist and hips, and zippers on those side pockets," says Anita, staring at the computer screen."

"I think I'll just use elastic and flaps," I reply. "I want to be able to reach in and get what I need quickly."

"You could charm each container so that it will come to your hand when you say what you want," suggests Anita.

"Good idea," I reply, as I reinforce the pockets. "What's the charm for that?"

Cindy rattles it off in Latin. Anita and I both look at her in amazement.

"Hey," she says. "I was a witch and I carried a handbag. It was the fastest way to get my Tangee orange flip lipstick into my hand without having to sort through the tubes of red and pink."

"Clever girl," I declare.

"Why don't I work on charming the containers?" says Anita, pointing at the stack of vials. "You can keep working on the vest."

"Good idea," I reply as I trim the waist a bit so that the waistcoat won't flap around.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 14 hours and 16 minutes until sunset

I enter the Manor through the solarium. This is my favorite room in the house. I have always admired the tall windows and sheer draperies that allow in light and air. Narcissa's taste in furnishing is impeccable. Wicker settees and chairs are set in conversational groupings. Potted plants and fresh flowers are set artfully about the room. There are no portraits or landscapes here. The view of the rose garden and the surrounding fields constitute all of the artwork the room could ever need.

Today, the solarium is occupied by one single person. Ima is here and a table is set with breakfast for two.

How many times during my visits to Lucius' home have I imagined something like this for myself? What would it be like to return home and be greeted by my own wife?

My fantasies once placed Lily in that position. In my anger, I set that fantasy aside and thought about what it would be like to have a Pureblood wife.

Her features, form, and hair color varied over the years, but she was always intelligent and cultured.

Ima LeDrox looks like she stepped out of one of those fantasies. She is the very image of a Pureblooded lady. She is wearing a kimono in soft pink with a pattern of blue flowers and pale green leaves and stems. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face with twin clips decorated with tiny peridot flowers, twinkling in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her hair flows loosely over her shoulders, tempting me to wrap strands of it around my fingers.

I know what my role must be.

She offers me a welcoming smile and walks towards me with her hands held out to take mine. Ima is a vision of elegance as she sweeps gracefully across the room. I take her hands and lean down for a brief, but welcoming kiss.

"Good morning, Severus," she says, softly. Her blue eyes are warm and her smile is genuine.

"Good morning, Ima," I reply, allowing a smile in return. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Ima replies as she moves to my side and tucks her hand in the crook of my arm, urging me towards the table. "I hope your night of vigil with Draco went well?"

"Very well," I reply. "One of the most valuable aspects of the vigil is the opportunity of the sponsor to examine his own values and beliefs in the course of the discussions with the supplicant. It was a chance to rededicate myself to the Dark Lord's service."

I pull out Ima's chair and she sits down, carefully arranging the kimono. I take the seat across from her at the small table. I cast the silencing spell that I usually use with Lucius so that no one will eavesdrop on a conversation between a courting couple. Ima nods in recognition.

"I have never had the opportunity to be a sponsor," replies Ima, pouring tea. "Giles Bulstrode has spoken to me about becoming Millicent's sponsor when it is time for her to join the Circle. What do you think?"

"Miss Bulstrode is a rather pedestrian young woman," I reply, considering how to word this tactfully. "She will be an unimaginative, but loyal Death Eater."

"You would certainly be in a good position to judge that," she replies, cheerfully, "having taught her all those years."

Ima gives the summoning bell a gentle shake. In the span of one breath, Pudding appears with covered plates and places them before each of us. Two crystal glasses of pineapple juice appear alongside a small jug of the juice.

"I took the liberty of asking Pudding to bring your favorite breakfast," says Ima, lifting the lid off her plate. "Narcissa mentioned that you prefer pineapple juice."

"That was most thoughtful of you," I reply. "I have never liked pumpkin juice. Narcissa recommended trying pineapple juice and I have found the flavor to be much lighter and more satisfying."

Ima's eyes twinkle in a most enticing way.

"I do believe that pineapple juice is very good for the body," she says, filling my glass with juice. "I have a vested interest in your good health."

"Is that why there is a pineapple in the fruit salad, as well?" I ask as I take I take a sip.

Ima rises from her seat and comes around to my side of the table. She is very nearly laughing as she dips her head to mine and we share a rather stimulating kiss.

"I was right," she says, lifting her head. "You are delicious."

We both laugh. It is a comfortable feeling.

She returns to her seat and we both enjoy our omelets.

"When we were talking about Miss Bulstrode," says Ima, "It occurred to me that sponsorship may not come up as an issue." She leans forward and speaks in a confidential tone. "Our Lord may choose not to admit any additional Death Eaters to the Circle, given his desire to send our organization deeply underground."

"That does make sense," I reply, in equally confidential tones. "Only a select few of us will know that the Dark Lord is alive in a new form. When he reaches adulthood, he may decide to use a totally different method of gaining power."

"I think he may do exactly that," replies Ima, nodding. "He'll have the Malfoy name and heritage to back him up. He could come into power in a more traditional manner. We could avoid the violence next time. If people will just listen to what he has to say, they will surely see that the only way to save the wizarding world is for us to take our rightful place and subjugate the Muggle world."

"We have a lot of work ahead of us," I remark, finishing my omelet and the last of my fruit. My tones remain hushed as I continue our conversation. "I have noticed certain students have been monitoring my movements over the last few days. Is something afoot?"

"Our Lord is being very cautious," replies Ima in return, her voice hushed. "With everything that is at stake, he wants nothing to interfere with his plans. Everyone, even his most trusted Death Eaters is being checked one more time to ensure that they are loyal. After tonight, he will have only nine months to ensure his safety before he is born again."

Ima snaps her fingers and Pudding appears. He is holding a tray with more of the fruit and freshly baked croissants and a butter dish. Ima directs him to place them on the table and dismisses him. She takes a croissant and butters it generously. Breaking off a piece, she holds it out to me to sample.

For once, I am not embarrassed by my crooked teeth. I surround Ima's hand with my own and open my mouth to accept the warm bit of croissant. I draw the tip of her middle finger into my mouth and lick melted butter from it. Ima blushes and smiles. Her smile is an invitation. Half rising, I quickly swallow the croissant and lean across the table to kiss her.

"I wish I could stay longer," I murmur, as I return to my seat. "I have fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to teach in forty-five minutes."

"Can you stay tonight?" asks Ima, her eyes encouraging.

"I don't know," I reply. "It depends on whether or not I can arrange for one of the other teachers to take my patrols."

"It would make me happy if you could stay," says Ima, gazing at me with invitation in her eyes.

I lean forward and take her hand. I bring it up and kiss the smooth skin across the top.

"It would make me happy, too."

* * *

Hermione  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 14 hours and 11 minutes until sunset

I have everything that I'm taking with me to England. If such a thing is possible, I would say that my bottomless backpack is full. I bury my face in Crookshanks fur, one more time before I set him down on the floor. He pads over and sits next to Spooky. Cindy is hovering a few feet back, holding Snowflake. Calamity is sitting on her shoulder.

Dorothy and Edgar are here too. We've already shaken hands and I have a basket of food to take back with me to headquarters.

Anita holds out her arms and we hang onto each other, knowing full well that this could be the last time.

"I'll be waiting for news," whispers Anita, choking.

"One of us will get to a phone and call you as soon as we can," I reply, holding onto her as tight as I can.

"I'm counting on that," whispers Anita.

She lets me go and I step into the transportation room. One more look at all of them. Cindy waves at me and I shut the door.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 4 hours and 44 minutes until sunset

I sent the last three Gryffindors off, taking only five points from each for their lateness in cleaning up their workstations. If something should happen to me tonight, I will have left their House with a fond memory of Professor Snape.

Looking around my quarters, I cannot help but feel a moment of melancholy. I hold tightly to the hope that we will succeed in our plan and that my servitude to the Dark Lord will end tonight. If things go badly for the Order or for me personally, this may very well be the last time I am in these rooms.

For all that I did not want to become a teacher, I must acknowledge that there have been eminently satisfying moments when I have seen my students learn or helped one of my Slytherins make a good choice in their life. As an adult, I have felt secure here. Until the Dark Lord returned, I never worried about my safety within these walls. My rooms have been my haven. My books, my potions, and my self have found a home.

It is time to leave. I will floo to Albus' office and then leave for Malfoy Manor.

One last look at my favourite chair and the book on Japanese potion making on the table next to it. I will finish that book when I return. I throw the floo powder into the fireplace and step past the spot where I lay with Hermione on the floor, trying to keep her warm.

I brush off my coat as I step out of the floo and lift my head.

She is here. She is standing before me with her wild hair, bright eyes, and warm smile. She is wearing the oddest waistcoat with pockets all over it.

"Hermione," I whisper in surprise and unanticipated happiness. I did not hold any expectation of seeing her until the end of the battle.

"Severus," she says, holding out her hands to me.

Before I can take them, I hear Albus voice from above where we stand.

"I thought you might want to have an opportunity to see each other before leaving," says Albus, standing on the balcony the top of the stairs. "Call me when you are ready to depart." Albus turns and goes into his personal quarters, blue robes swishing behind him.

I take Hermione's hands in mine and pull her to me. I am conscious of every minute sensation as her hands run up my back. She tilts her head back and my head dips to hers. We meet in a kiss that says everything.

--

Hermione

There is a quality of desperation in this kiss.

I don't want to think about it, but I can't help it. These could be our last moments together.

I reach up and place my hand at the back of his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair. I'm going to hold him here as long as I can. He feels so good in my arms. He's healthy and strong. I can only think of how much he has changed my life, how much he means to me, and how much I love him.

--

Severus

This feeling of Hermione in my arms will be branded in my memory forever. My fingers are tangled in her wild hair. Her slight form pressed against me and her lips moving against mine. She has one hand clutching my back and the other in my hair. Everywhere she touches, my skin tingles even through the heavy fabric of my robes.

I can only think of how much she has changed my life, how much she means to me, and how much I love her.

Reality intrudes.

I cannot stay. Draco needs me.

--

Hermione

I can't keep him here. I have to let him leave. Draco needs him.

--

We end the kiss.

We will just stand here and hold each other for a moment.

--

Severus

Hermione straightens the shoulders of my robes, caressing as she goes. I smile to myself, because she is tidying me up as a wife would before sending me off for the day. I catch her hands in mine and kiss her one more time.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

There is a smattering of voices around us and I remember the damn portraits. I rest my forehead against hers and hope that Albus has ordered them to keep this meeting confidential.

"Ahem."

I do believe that Albus has rejoined us. We look up and he is standing there on the balcony. One hand holds up his robe and the other slides along the railing as he steps carefully down each stair.

"I would like to remind each of the Headmasters and Headmistresses present that anything witnessed in this room today is to be kept confidential," orders Albus.

Good.

"I would also like to apologize to both of you for attempting to interfere with your relationship," says Albus, shaking his head regretfully. "If I can claim any excuse at all, it is that I did not know that the two of you were involved when I tried to do that bit of matchmaking between Bill and Hermione.

"When you presented me with emerald green Virgo Curato, I came to understand the depth of your relationship. If the two of you can forgive me, I hope that I will have the pleasure of attending your Claiming ceremony this summer."

"It wouldn't be complete if you weren't there," says Hermione, pleased.

I think she is too forgiving, but this may not be the time and place to express that.

"Molly has probably already composed the guest list on behalf of both of us," I reply, with only a teasing sneer.

"Then we shall have quite an event to look forward to when all of this is done," he says confidently as he comes up beside Hermione and grasps her shoulders.

I appreciate the optimism that he is expressing and his efforts to reassure Hermione. We all know that nothing is ever quite that simple and tonight, this is especially true.

"Indeed," I reply. "I must leave and finish the vigil with Draco."

"You do not need me to tell you to be careful," says Albus. "We have planned and prepared for everything we can think of. It is time to implement the plan."

I nod and Albus squeezes Hermione's shoulders.

"I will see you tonight," says Hermione, her voice quavering. Albus releases her and she comes into my arms.

"Be careful," she says, softly.

I barely trust my own voice.

"I shall," I reply, clearing my throat. "Keep safe," I whisper in return.

I release her and turn quickly before I can change my mind. As I reach the door to the revolving staircase, I turn for one last look.

She is beautiful and I love her.

--

Hermione

Severus turns for one last look.

I smile at him, the most encouraging smile I have. I memorize his face with all of the stern lines, thin lips, his Roman nose, and the frame of dark hair. He looks so fierce and determined.

I love you.

He's gone.

* * *

Hermione  
June 21, 19991  
Countdown: 1 hour until sunset

Chester Sommersby's house isn't big enough to contain the expected crowd, so Dumbledore and Sommersby did one of the most amazing room expansions I've ever seen. Mr. Sommersby's parlor currently exceeds the size of the entire ground floor of his house.

I didn't see any evidence of that when I looked at the outside of his house. He says it will last for the next five days, which has to be a drain on Sommersby and Dumbledore's magic.

It is necessary, though. Our injured will be brought here and that space may be needed.

Ellen was just here, checking our stock of medical potions. She brought the last trunk of supplies with her. Ron and I finished stacking the boxes of beds and bedding in the corner. A few spells to return them to normal size and they'll be ready for use.

Portkeys are bringing Order members in from all over the British Isles to the field behind Sommersby's house. They have been trickling in for the last hour.

The parlor is essentially a temporary Room of Requirement. It has arranged itself as an auditorium with a stage and a podium at the front. Seats are arranged in rows, terraced so everyone can see the stage with an unobstructed view. Albus Dumbledore stands on the stage, the silver thread embroidery on his blue robes gleaming in the lights around him. Beside him are Chester Sommersby, Remus Lupin, Jean Lamb, and Bill Weasley, speaking in hushed tones. A row of chairs is arranged behind them.

I walk down the aisle to the stage. I look to the doorway in the back and see Harry coming through, Firebolt in hand, followed by Nymphadora Tonks. Harry waves and is moving through the crowd towards the front. The room is filling.

Several of the Order members are carrying brooms. Looking around, I see the other Weasleys. Charlie is here from Romania. He waves to me, pointing at his healed hand. Fred and George are looking strangely serious for once. Ron is standing beside Arthur and Molly, who appears to be lecturing Mundungus Fletcher.

Mad-Eye Moody is speaking with Minerva. Mike Lamb and Mark Smith just passed a BludgeSucker to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is laughing as he examines it. Ellen seems to be pointing out its features.

Neville is having an animated discussion with much waving of arms with Hagrid. Blaise Zabini, Adrian Pucey, Lee Jordan, and Seamus Finnegan are sitting side-by-side in the front row. It looks like Madame Hooch is showing her new broom to Oliver Wood.

Limnoreia and Roger just strolled in, hand-in-hand. Her hair is mussed and Roger's braid is a little askew. Heaven only knows what they've been doing.

Never mind. I'm pretty certain I know what they've been doing.

I've never met at least half of those present. I would guess that most of them are Order members from the first war.

The Headmaster waves to Harry, Limnoreia, and Roger to draw them up on the stage. We take our seats.

The room quiets as soon as Dumbledore takes to the podium. He points his wand to his throat. "Sonorous." Dumbledore's voice, strong and compelling, carries throughout the room as he greets the Order members.

"Tonight is the night we have awaited for years. For some of you, the wait has been since 1972 when we first heard of Lord Voldemort. For others, it has been since 1996 when the Dark Lord resurfaced. However long it has been, it has been too long. Too many have died. Too many lives damaged and destroyed. Tonight, we end it. We bring the battle to Voldemort and we end it at the time and place of our choosing.

"Many months of research and planning have gone into the tools and the strategies we will use tonight. I will tell you now, before we begin the explanation of it all, if you have any doubts about whether or not you wish to be a part of this, stand and leave now. No one will think less of you. You cannot know what we will do if you are unable to be a part of it." Dumbledore looks around the room. No one moves.

"Very well. I commend you all for your commitment to our cause. The first to speak tonight will be Remus Lupin, Coordinator of Intelligence for the Order."

Remus stands, taking Dumbledore's place at the podium. He clears his throat and begins.

"We have reliable intelligence which tells us where Voldemort will be tonight. With that information, we will make a direct attack against him and the Death Eaters who will attend him this evening. Our destination is the grounds of Malfoy Manor."

There is a moment of stunned silence. Now there are shouts and clamor from the crowd.

"Malfoy Manor? Have you lost your bloody minds? We might as well try to break into Azkaban!" from one.

"This will be a suicide mission," shouts another from the back of the room.

Remus raises his hands and signals for quiet. The shouts die off.

"What you don't know is that Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy are allies in our war against Voldemort. They have been working quietly and carefully with the Order to set up the opportunity for us to make this strike tonight. Lucius Malfoy, a member of Voldemort's inner circle, has been spying for us. As Albus will tell you, he has our complete confidence.

"When it is time for us to launch the attack, the wards around Malfoy Manor will fall. With the Malfoys on our side, we have full knowledge of the family wards that protect the estate. We know how to take those wards down. Our bigger concern has been the wards that Voldemort and the Death Eaters will put up to supplement the family wards. Fortunately, we have someone among us who is able to deal with any ward he might encounter."

Remus turns and signals Roger to come forward. "I would like to introduce Professor Roger Littlehorse of Avalon College, who is joining us from the United States."

There are curious murmurs from the crowd as Roger takes the podium. He is dressed in his typical denim jeans and jacket, along with his braid that reaches the middle of his back. His sculptured features and distinctive nose remind me very much of Severus.

"I understand that not all of you have been completely briefed on the attack strategy for tonight," he begins. "It will fall to others to do that. I am here representing the Order's allies in the United States, coming to fight side-by-side with all of you. We share your desire to see an end to the acts of terrorism perpetrated by the Death Eaters and to stop the self-styled Lord Voldemort from pursuing his plans to gain control over the British Isles."

That results in cheers from the audience.

"It will be my job to take down the wards around Malfoy Manor," announces Roger. "I will do this in my Animagus form." Roger looks around the room, assessing its size. "Because of lack of space, I will not show you that form right now."

Given the large size of the room, that appears to have everyone impressed .

"When we take to the field," says Roger, dramatically, "I will take to the air. My form is that of the Thunderbird. It is a giant bird with an eagle-like head that has been spoken of in legend for hundreds of generations among the tribes of North America. The magic of the Thunderbird includes the ability to shatter wards with lightning. I will use that to take down all of the wards surrounding the estate."

"You can take out any wards?" challenges Mad-Eye Moody from the crowd. "What about sacrificial wards?"

"According to legend," replies Roger, "I should be capable of removing wards that were set with a human sacrifice. For obvious reasons, I have not been tested against such wards, but the legends are clear on this."

Limnoreia steps forward and stands next to Roger.

"We have conducted tests of Professor Littlehorse's abilities with wards when he is in his Thunderbird form," she explains. "He has been able to destroy the strongest wards any of us have been able to set. He has been able to destroy wards set in layers by teams of wizards, including blood wards. We believe that he can do this."

I can't hear what Limnoreia is saying with all of the noise from the audience as they discuss this development among themselves.

Chester Sommersby stands, gives himself a Sonorus, and waves the crowd to silence.

"We have given this matter due consideration," he announces. "We believe that Professor Littlehorse will be able to shatter the wards. However, we have a backup plan in place if it does not happen. While the Death Eaters are in disarray at the sight of a giant bird flying overhead, the Order will be taking down the wards. Limnoreia Lovegood is our expert on warding of all kinds. Bill Weasley is a curse breaker. Remus Lupin has specialized knowledge of the wards used by Death Eaters. Albus and I have analyzed and broken wards set by Grindelwald himself."

Sommersby stands tall and looks ancient. "We are fully prepared to deal with any wards we find. We are prepared to deal with any contingency."

There are murmurs from the crowd as those who understand what this might mean explain it to those who don't.

Sommersby nods to Roger and Limnoreia who step back and take their seats. Sommersby takes the podium. His voice is grim.

"We are not the only ones taking risks tonight. Whatever he may have done in the past, Lucius Malfoy has placed his life and the lives of his family on the line. His wife and his son are in residence at the Manor to deceive Voldemort and make him feel secure and complacent. Voldemort believes he is there tonight to initiate Draco Malfoy as a Death Eater. As soon as Voldemort realizes an attack is beginning, he will recognize the Malfoys as traitors. I need not describe for all of you here the consequences to the Malfoy family if this attack does not succeed."

I can hear hushed voices as individuals in the crowd comment on this unexpected turn of events.

"Before we describe the complete attack plan, you must understand the weapon that we will use tonight. For this, I call upon Jean Lamb, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter."

This is our cue to explain what they need to know about Happy-Sleepy. Harry takes the podium, first.

"During my first year at Hogwarts," says Harry, grasping the sides of the podium, "Voldemort possessed Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This isn't news to any of you as Order members, but within the last year, we have come to a better understanding of how he did that and what it means to our plans to do away with Voldemort.

"Quirrell died when he tried to take the Philosopher's Stone away from me. Voldemort wanted to use it to make himself immortal in a different way to all of the weird experimenting he did to himself that made his body so snake-like.

"The reason that he died goes back to when my mother sacrificed her life to save mine. It gave me a special warding that protects me from being hurt by Voldemort. Since Voldemort was possessing Quirrell at the time, Quirrell's body was killed when he tried to hurt me.

"Just before I passed out, I remember seeing a misty or smoky form that fled from Quirrell's body. We believe that the misty form is Voldemort's true form. We think that he is immortal, but only in that form. When Voldemort reincarnated himself using the Blood, Flesh, and Bone spell, he created a new body. At the core of that body is the same misty form that I saw.

"That's why we believe we must not kill Voldemort," declares Harry. "If we do, he'll simply escape and we'll have to start this all over again when he finds a new body to possess."

"Then why the hell are we attacking him, if we're not going to kill him?" shouts a long-haired wizard from the back of the room.

"That's where the Happy-Sleepy potion comes in," says Harry, turning the podium over to me.

"We aren't going to kill Voldemort," I declare. "We're going to take away his magic."

The room is utterly still

Reaching into my robes, I remove a clear Happy-Sleepy orb and hold it above my head for all to see.

"This orb, and the others like it, contains within it the means of the Dark Lord's undoing," I announce. "Within the orb is a potion that we believe will remove Voldemort's magic."

The room is utterly still.

"You are seeing the results of months of work by a team of Order members with help from our allies in the United States. We have determined that there is something in the fire bladder extract of a Swedish short-snout dragon that suppresses magic. We have also found that powerfully addictive narcotics have a similar effect. We have combined the two in the Happy-Sleepy potion.

"It operates on the central nervous system and the brain in the same way as the most powerful narcotics. One sufficient exposure should leave the average witch or wizard completely addicted. The Happy-Sleepy potion replaces the chemicals in the brain and nervous system which allow the use of magic."

The noise in the room escalates, as the crowd understands the significance of this information. A weapon which can take away magic is the equivalent of a nuclear device in the wizarding universe. I can feel the wave of fear as it moves through the crowd.

"Jean Lamb is going to explain how the weapon will work," I finish.

Jean takes my place at the podium and begins to speak.

"Obviously, the method of delivery of the potion is critical to its use, especially under the battle conditions we anticipate," she begins. "We must deliver the potion to Voldemort in a manner that will allow it to be absorbed into his body without endangering our own people. That is the reason for the orb. The orb is designed to burst when thrown against a surface. It is charmed to turn whatever liquid is contained within into a mist that is sprayed into the air. Simultaneously, a protective shield is cast in a seven-foot diameter around the broken orb.

"The shield is critical to making the orb work," she continues. "The shield will prevent any of the mist from traveling outside of the shielded area and concentrate the mist to be inhaled. When the shield dissipates or is destroyed, any remaining airborne Happy-Sleepy potion will be destroyed with it. There are limitations to the charm we must use on the orb to achieve these affects. The shield will automatically fade at ninety seconds after impact. It can also be destroyed from within or without by a strong _Eradico_ charm."

Jean reaches into her pocket and removes a blue tinted orb. "I will demonstrate this using this blue orb, which contains only water."

I step back from Jean and smile. She has a mischievous look in her eyes as she steps back and smashes the blue orb at my feet. The crowd gasps as the blue tinted containment field forms around me. I feel a bit of welcome coolness as the water mist hits my face. I wave to the audience from within the field and hear returning laughter.

Taking out my wand, I call out "_Eradico Contego_." There is a flash of yellow light and the blue shield disappears.

I receive a round of applause from the audience, take a bow, and step back to my seat.

"As you can see, the shield can be magically destroyed from the inside or the outside. Remember, any remaining potion mist is destroyed the moment the shield is gone. There is no risk to anyone of accidental exposure as long as we all make certain that the orbs are smashed only so they enclose Voldemort.

"Anyone who is careless and smashes an orb so that he surrounds himself will end up addicted and without magic. Do not hit anyone on our side with one. I cannot emphasize strongly enough the degree of care which must be taken in handling an orb.

"We don't know exactly how long the Dark Lord must inhale the Happy-Sleepy potion to become addicted and lose his magic. We don't know how far he is from human. One dose should be enough to addict a witch or wizard. We believe at least five full doses will be required for Voldemort.

"Given that the shield holding in the Happy-Sleepy can be shattered by magic or will fade after a minute, we should assume that five hits will not be enough. We will need to bombard him with as many doses as possible. The shield will always be blue. Do not hit him with another orb until the shield is gone, otherwise you will simply waste your orb."

"We have a limited number of orbs. This potion is not easy to make and some of the ingredients are rare. Headmaster Dumbledore will explain to you our battle strategy which will maximize our chances of a successful strike." Jean steps back and returns to the seat next to mine. Harry joins us and sits down.

Albus is back at the podium.

"Before I outline our strategy for the attack, you must all understand certain factors which have gone into its development. One of these is the important role played in these matters by Severus Snape. During the first Voldemort War, Severus took the Dark Mark as a Death Eater."

I can hear shouts and curses from the audience. I realize that I am sitting rigidly, my anger mounting as I hear the crowd responding to this news with shouts and catcalls. Severus is at Malfoy Manor, risking his life for all of us and they dare criticize him.

Albus raises his hand for silence.

"Another piece of information that you may be unaware of is that he has spied for the Order of the Phoenix ever since the first war. Not for one single moment have I ever doubted his loyalty or his efforts in preventing the worst atrocities from the Death Eater camp. When Voldemort fell the first time, Severus spent years monitoring for any signs of his return, any signs of the reactivation of the Death Eaters.

"In 1996, when Voldemort reincarnated himself, Severus returned to his spying duties, rejoining Voldemort's inner circle. Since that time, he has endured more torment and torture at the hands of the Dark Lord than you will ever know or he will ever tell you. He has done all of this while functioning as Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts, as well as Head of House for Slytherin. His careful actions and influence have prevented more than one of his students from accepting the Dark Mark. It is intelligence he has gathered and alliances he has fostered which make this attack possible tonight."

Heads turn as witches and wizards look at each other in surprise. Whispered comments are shared among them.

Blaise Zabini rises to his feet. Adrian Pucey joins him. Slowly, Zabini and Pucey begin to clap. Minerva stands and begins to clap with them. Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan are next. The Weasleys are standing now. Harry rises and all of us on the stage join what is turning into a standing ovation from the members of the Order.

I can feel tears rising. I would give anything if Severus could be here to see this.

Albus turns back to the audience and clears his throat, gesturing the audience for silence.

"When the Thunderbird breaks the wards and our troops begin to arrive at the scene of the initiation, the Dark Lord will know that he has been betrayed. Severus Snape will join the fighting on our side. His desertion of the Dark Lord will mark him as a traitor and he will be targeted for death. No matter what else happens, Severus Snape's role as a spy ends tonight.

"Know this," declares Albus. "If not for Professor Snape's success as a spy among the Death Eaters, we would not be able to launch an attack tonight. If not for Professor Snape's efforts in the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion, we would not have a weapon. If we succeed, we will owe him and his team a debt we cannot even begin to repay."

The room is quiet. Albus is scanning the room to see if there are any other remarks to make about Severus.

"To begin the discussion of our battle strategy, I call on Bill Weasley," says Albus.

My erstwhile boyfriend steps forward, looking like a young Indiana Jones with red hair. He's wearing leather trousers tonight and looks hot. I notice the several of the women giving him a good looking over, even some who are old enough to be his grandmother.

"We will begin to gather forces at Malfoy Manor about one half hour after sunset tonight, which happens at 9:20 pm. All of us who are designated for ward breaking duty will go first.

"That is Remus Lupin, Limnoreia Lovegood, Roger Littlehorse, Chester Sommersby, and Albus Dumbledore and me. We will Apparate to the Manor at that time and begin the work of identifying the wards around the grounds, most specifically the ones cast especially for Voldemort's protection.

"Meanwhile, Minerva McGonagall will provide Portkeys to all of you here in preparation for your role."

"Our primary strategy is what Muggles call aerial assault. Our target is Voldemort. We have asked many of you who are known to be exceptionally skilled on a broom to come properly equipped. Skills many of you developed on the Quidditch field at Hogwarts will come quite in handy, with stakes far higher than any we have ever played for before. For those of you who are part of the aerial assault team, I ask you to report in to Harry Potter who will function as Wing Commander."

Bill raises his hand to Harry who is making his way to the podium.

Harry is smiling and waving to the audience in response to cheers and catcalls from his classmates. He signals for silence.

"According to intelligence we have from Professor Snape and the Malfoys, we can anticipate the Death Eaters will be completely unprepared for an assault by air. They will assume the wards will keep us out.

"They assume it because they haven't seen Professor Littlehorse in action," says Harry, smirking. "Some of us here, tonight, had the chance to see Professor Littlehorse as the Thunderbird and saw what he did to the wards we set up. Voldemort is going to be in for a big surprise."

The crowd is cheering, again. Harry holds up his hand for silence.

"When the fliers take to the air, we can expect plenty of hexes to be aimed our way. Fortunately, they will be coming to us from the ground and not from broom-borne Death Eaters. In some ways, this is a disadvantage. You will need to keep one eye on each other as you fly and the other eye on the ground, watching for Unforgiveables. Do you have any spares on you tonight, Moody?"

Laughter is ringing through the room, as Mad-Eye Moody appears to be taking an elbow to the ribs from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's looking rather offended and his magical eye is doing figure eights in its socket.

"Each of you who will be flying will be given an orb. Your objective will be to smash that orb on or near Voldemort. As we explained earlier, this will release the Happy-Sleepy potion and the shield. Do not, I repeat, do not throw your orb at Voldemort if you see he has a blue shield around him. We cannot afford to waste any of the orbs."

"You will work in teams of two. As you see your opportunity, you will dive in and take your shot at Voldemort. As one of you makes a strafing run, the other will function as escort. That will enable the attacker to focus on hitting Voldemort while the escort deflects hexes and provides cover. When your orb is used, you are expected to fly guard around those who haven't had their chance. You will also aid the assault forces on the ground by taking out Death Eaters wherever you can. I am counting on all of you to watch out for each other and shout warnings where needed. We may have played on teams for rival Houses, but there is only one team tonight."

Harry returns to his seat to the sound of applause and cheers from the audience. George and Fred are brandishing their new brooms like gorillas with weapons. The testosterone level in the crowd is definitely rising.

Remus stands and addresses the audience.

"When the fliers are in the air, our ground forces will move into place. Scouts will determine which hill is being used for the initiation ritual. With the Thunderbird and our fliers attacking Death Eaters on the ground, our troops will advance on the hill.

"Mike Lamb and Mark Smith have charmed enough short-distance Portkeys so that ground forces will be able to short cut through the field between the border of the Malfoy estate and the hill. The Portkeys have been charmed so they won't allow the users to smash into trees or bushes when they land.

"When you reach the hill, expect to engage the enemy," continues Remus. "Watch for Unforgiveables. Death Eaters do not fight by anybody's rules."

Albus regains the podium.

"For those of you who are part of the ground assault," says Albus, "it will be your mission to attack, disable, and kill as many Death Eaters as possible. This will clear the area and minimize Voldemort's defenders. As you do this, there are four important points of information to be aware of.

"Number One: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy will be attending Lord Voldemort tonight. When the assault begins, they will look for an opportunity to dispose of their Death Eater robes and masks so they can be properly identified as our allies and join our attack forces. As soon as they do so, they will come under fire from other Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

"I ask that all of you assist them in defending themselves, if they appear to need it. If for any reason, they are delayed in removing their robes, I shall be quite put out if any Order members should kill one of them. They are on OUR side. Remember, they will very likely be stationed close to Lord Voldemort."

"Number Two: As best you can, use only the orbs to attack Voldemort. Certainly defend yourselves as you need to, but do not attempt Avada Kadavra, or any other killing hex directly at Voldemort. With all the magicks used by Voldemort in his efforts to achieve immortality, we cannot assume any of these things will kill him. Worse, they may interfere with the effectiveness of the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"Number Three: We have a limited number of orbs. Each of our aerial attackers will have one. Certain designated members of our ground forces will have one. Use them carefully. We have a few additional orbs that can be used to resupply our forces.

"Hermione Granger will carry them on the battlefield. Miss Granger's role will be to get in line of sight of Voldemort and monitor the frequency and duration of hits he takes from the orbs. Granger and Snape are our experts on the Happy-Sleepy potion. At the moment either of them observes that Voldemort has reached the point where he is incapacitated or unable to use magic, they will cast a fireworks charm. Upon seeing that signal, our forces will move in to take custody of Voldemort."

"If our attack forces begin to run out of orbs and Voldemort has not been disabled, Granger will resupply as many of the designated members as possible. Because of the sensitive nature of her mission, she will be provided with defense escorts on the field of battle. They consist of Auror Tonks, Neville Longbottom, and Seamus Finnigan. They will not engage the enemy other than in their own defense.

"Number four: The rose garden behind Malfoy Manor is booby-trapped. I have it on good authority that the rose bushes are deadly and will be activated. Death Eaters will not know this and may attempt to reach the Manor through the garden. Do not pursue anyone into the garden. If you need to get inside the Manor, go through the front door, which Professor Littlehorse will make sure is unwarded."

Dumbledore leans forward, both hands grasping the sides of the podium.

"A good deal of careful planning has gone into preparing for tonight. The reality is that plans can go wrong. There is always something we may not have anticipated. If that is the case, I rely on all of you to use good common sense.

"As you see, the clock is now ticking. In twenty minutes, the departures will begin."

Dumbledore takes a deep breath.

"I've known almost all of you as children. If there were any other way, I would spare you this day as adults. Knowing this is not possible; I instead thank you for your steadfast commitment, your friendship, and your fellowship on the battlefield this day."

"Should things not go our way in this battle, we will need to regroup and develop a completely new strategy. You will be issued with Portkeys that will allow you to evacuate to the United States, should such a thing be necessary.

"I am told that the password to activate each Portkey is _Voldemort has a tiny little dick_."

That has the crowd roaring with laughter. Albus allows that moment of humor and then raises his hand for silence.

"Consider Minerva McGonagall to be my successor as leader of the Order of the Phoenix, should she be needed in that role. She will remain behind today by my orders to develop a fall back strategy if one is needed."

"It is my belief that by the grace of God and Merlin's help, we will carry the day. We will return here when the battle is over and we will celebrate the beginning of a new and better day. If there are any of us who do not return, then know that they shall celebrate on the other side of the veil, understanding the necessity and rightness of the cause for which we fight."

Dumbledore paused again.

"Bless you all. If you've any last minute preparations to make, do so now."

The room thunders with cheers and applause.

* * *

Severus  
June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 15 minutes past sunset and twenty minutes away from total darkness

"I will get that for you," I tell Draco.

He hands me the bottle of anointing oil and I pour a small amount into the palm of my hand. I apply it carefully to the area between his shoulder blades that he cannot reach himself.

Stepping back, I walk around Draco to ensure that all of his skin shines with the oil. I have not looked at Draco like this since the last time I changed his nappies and wanted to make certain he did not have nappy rash.

His skin is pale and without blemish. He glows with good health and is physically fit. He is well proportioned and has nothing lacking in the equipment department.

Draco Malfoy is exactly what the Dark Lord wants, a handsome young man with a virgin arse.

At least, I assume Draco has a virgin arse. Not that I intend to ask.

"I don't have to put that oil on my face, do I?" asks Draco.

"No," I reply. "Your face and hair can be free of oil, but you should put it on your neck."

I hand the oil back to him. He wipes some onto his neck and then recaps the bottle. Taking a towel from the stack that Pudding left, Draco wipes his hands and tosses the towel aside.

I hold out the red supplicant's robe for Draco to step into. He moves gracefully and slides his arms into the sleeves. He turns around and I apply the charm that will hold the front of the robes closed until such time as Draco is expected to drop the robes and stand nude before the Dark Lord and the Circle of Death Eaters.

Draco holds out his wand for me to take. I accept it and place it in the pocket of my Death Eater robes.

"I will return this to you when the ceremony is finished," I state. Hopefully, the ceremony will be interrupted very early and I can declare it finished.

I step behind Draco and adjust the fit of the shoulders so that the robe will flow smoothly around his slender frame.

"How do I look?" asks Draco, smoothing his hair.

"Like a Malfoy," I declare, moving in front of him. "Your parents will be so proud of you. I am proud of you."

"Thanks, Severus," replies Draco. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you are standing with me tonight and that I have had your guidance every step of the way."

"The honor is mine," I answer, with a bow. "You are the closest thing I shall ever have to a nephew. To bring my family to this moment is a privilege I cherish."

I feel the burn on my arm. The Dark Lord is here.

"We are being summoned."

"I'm ready, Severus," says Draco, determined. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life."

Draco leads the way down the halls of Malfoy Manor. Lucius joins us when we reach the solarium. He stands tall and proud in his Death Eater robes. He and I stop for a moment to put on our skull shaped masks.

Pudding opens the door to the rose garden and bows.

The three of us depart.

* * *

Author's notes

Thank you to Katyes for her suggestions of castles in Austria suitable for a nice magical siege.

The description of the formal dining room at Malfoy Manor is based on the description of the same room in Longleat House in Wiltshire.

Thank you to all of my reviewers both here and at Katyes' German translation of _Looking for Magic_. You inspire and motivate me. They are: Notplainjane, Pickles87, Mia Madwyn, Tarirose, Yasmin, Kate, FarmerLiz, Darque Hart, Lyndie578, Mother of Tears, Ginnilini, Lipasnape, Oscarxena, Demmons1399, Animagical, Droxy, Jade2099, Erytha, Voxangelus, o0morgana0o, Fatalani-Zabini, Perwinkle27, FrenchWine, Klschmidt, Notwritten, Andi-Scribbles, Puella Deorum, Howlingwolf, Traceyww, She is brighter, Keske, Kimjo, Lonelygirl54, Snapeygirl, T, Alison, Ultigirl, Karla Manatee, Jocemum, Mela, KellyRoxton, Bunyshaven, Blue Artemis, Magicdaisy, Severessa, MotorMouthMili, Starbridge, Maddie50, Snape's Witch, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Wynnleaf, Duj, Rinny08, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, MollysSister, Kirien, MoreThanSirius, Phoenix's Feather, Pstibbons, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Lovechilde, Squeaker19450, Princessfiona, Lifeasanamazon, Pirra, Quiet-mg, Wati, Koliber, Marble Meadow, Rif, Persevero, T wrecks, Kcole, Seth7, and Arime Setta.


	101. Chapter 101

Don't own anything  
Special thanks to Julia, who makes this a better story for her input.

* * *

June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: 20 minutes before departure  
Hermione

The magically enlarged parlor of Chester Sommersby's house is filled with the sounds of laughter, shouts, and catcalls. I can hear my friends and Order members I've never met before teasing and challenging each other.

Harry has just been at the front of the room, holding a meeting with the flyers who will conduct our aerial assault on Voldemort. Mike and Mark have just finished passing out the short distance Portkeys.

Now, our fighters are gathering around Jean and me so we can issue them Happy-Sleepy orbs.

"Does everyone here have a pocket in their flying robes?" I ask. "It needs to be loose to contain the orb and to give you enough room to reach in and get it out. If you don't have a pocket and you're not handy with transfiguration, Professor McGonagall has offered to do the honors."

A few of our broom flying warriors step over to Minerva to take her up on the offer.

"When you put the orb in your pocket," says Jean, "You'll need to do a Crush-Proof and a Can't-Fall-Out charm. Mark and Mike have offered to help with that." She gestures to the two men, who are standing by.

A few more of the flyers head in their direction.

I'm instructing Professor Hooch and two other flyer who are strangers to me. They look like they are a little younger than Severus.

"All you need to do is throw the orb hard enough so that it will break when it comes into contact with a solid object. The best solid object to hit is Voldemort himself. Throw the orb has hard as you would a rotten egg."

Oh good, they're laughing. My jokes don't always work.

"As far as getting re-supplied is concerned," I explain, "I'm going to get as close to Voldemort as I can without being in range of whatever hexes are flying around him."

I look around the room. I see robes in all colors.

Oh crap.

I don't see any orange. I can't believe I have to wear orange. I raise my wand, whisper a few words, and the photographer's waistcoat that I transfigured today to wear over my slacks and t-shirt turns pumpkin orange.

I'm now bright enough to be seen, but not bright enough to become a target.

Ron laughs, realizing what's going on. He knows that I hate orange. I huff and explain the rest to the flyers.

"You can see that I'm wearing orange. Remember that. If we get to the point where you need to re-supply, you'll be able to spot me from the air or fairly easily from the ground. I only have ten extra orbs, so be careful with the ones you have. If anything happens to me, Tonks, Neville, or Seamus will take the orbs and you'll need to go to them."

Tonks laughs and her hair turns orange.

"Misery loves company. Go for it." I might as well encourage her.

More laughter.

"Does anyone have any questions?" asks Jean.

We wait.

"Okay, hearing no questions, class dismissed. Good luck everybody."

Jean and Mike walk off, arm-in-arm, her broom floating behind her.

We have seven minutes before the ward-breakers will leave to bring down the wards at Malfoy Manor.

This is real. I have the most horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven't felt like this since the last time I was near a Dementor.

The Dark Lord is at Malfoy Manor and the attack is going to happen.

Severus is there, pretending to be a happy Death Eater.

Draco is there, pretending to be a happy about-to-be-initiated Death Eater.

I grab Ron's arm and hug it briefly. He looks serious for a moment and then grabs me up in a big two armed hug.

"Watch your back, Hermione."

I hang onto him for dear life.

"I will. Watch your arse, Flyboy."

"Maybe you could watch my arse for me." Ron gives me a wicked grin, turns around and gives a little wiggle to the aforementioned arse.

I'm laughing as Ron walks over with me to Harry. I look into those gorgeous green eyes of his.

"Got the Stay-On charm for your glasses?"

"Exactly the way you taught me, Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Know-It-All." Harry offers that shy and gentle smile that is so uniquely him.

I hold out my arms and Harry moves into them. We stand still for a moment, taking comfort. The parlor is emptying. It's time to head outside to the field beyond the wards.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we're standing in a meadow outside of Chester's home. There are sheep grazing on the hill. It all looks so deceptively peaceful.

Albus, Remus, Chester, Bill, Limnoreia, and Roger have been gone for 10 minutes. We're waiting for the signal to begin our departure.

Harry and Ron are supposed to be in the first wave and have moved towards Minerva. I can see all the other flyers standing around them. Charlie's a good choice with his experience with the dragons. George and Fred are terrific Qudditch players. Oliver Wood is a Keeper for the Edinburgh Highlanders. Madam Hooch is over there, too. I'll bet she'll be fantastic.

Jean and Mark are passing the BludgeSucker between them. The kissing and suction action has been turned off for tonight, except for recognizing the magical signatures of some of the people on our side. When the BludgeSucker targets a Death Eater, it will hit him with full force and leave broken bones behind. A blow to the head could result in a broken neck.

Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey are giving flying advice to some of the other flyers who accepted the Harley Davidson brooms that Draco sent. There is a pile of discarded 1980s model Clean Sweeps and Nimbus brooms over to the side.

There are so many other wizards and witches that I don't recognize.

I'm with the last group, waiting with Tonks, Seamus and Neville. Molly's here. I give her a hug and she clings to me. Five of her children and her husband are on the front lines in this battle. No one has more to lose than she does.

The signal is given. Portkeys are handed to the first wave. The flyers disappear.

My palms are sweating and I wipe them on my slacks.

Five more minutes. The second wave, consisting of ground troops, leaves.

It's been almost ten minutes. Ellen introduces us to Gerald Prewitt, an Order member and MediWizard she worked with during the first war. We all pick up medical kits and supplies that have been reduced for transport. We're to be the last to leave.

How in the world can Ellen look so calm and collected? Oh Merlin, please don't let me throw up when I use the Portkey.

We hit the ten minute mark. My stomach is churning. It's our turn.

Minerva hands us our Portkeys and give us an encouraging nod.

I grasp the handle of a suitcase full of medical supplies and take hold of the silk daisy. I feel that pull behind my navel.

I drop the suitcase and stumble to the ground, clutching my stomach.

Thank you, Merlin. My dinner is staying down.

Tonks, Seamus, Molly, Neville and a dozen other people are here. It's dark and we're behind a hedge that marks the southern border of the Malfoy estate.

The others must be scattered under cover all around the southern edge of the estate. I look around, straining to see in the dark and don't see the Manor. We must be pretty far from it, just outside the grounds.

Mad-Eye Moody is here, passing around information about what's going on.

"The ward busters have identified Voldemort's bloody wards. One of them is from an unwilling human sacrifice. Professor Littlehorse is going to take to the sky any second now. He's going to fly to the center of the estate first and take down the wards from there. There will be lightning and thunder when he strikes.

"Then, the ward breakers will test to see if they are down and then signal the rest of us to move forward. If they're gone, we'll hear the sound of a bell ringing.

"The flyers will take off and Littlehorse will start the attack on the hill. We're to wait five minutes and start running and using those short-distance Portkeys to get to the hill where we see the giant bird and a bonfire."

"He's hard to miss," says Ellen. "I saw him last Sunday and he's the size of a dragon when he turns into the Thunderbird."

"Merlin's left shoe," says Molly, looking up and pointing. "You're not kidding when you say he's the size of a dragon."

It is dark out here. We are just past the half moon and it casts some light, but not enough to see very far. However, it is hard not to see the huge body and wings of the Thunderbird as it flies overhead. I hope Roger can hold back the lightning and thunder until he reaches the center of the estate.

Moody is with us, crouching below the hedge so we can't be seen from the hills to the north of us. Ellen and Mediwizard Prewitt are quietly gathering the supplies that they will set up as soon as the battle starts. They don't want their movements to give anything away.

"Look," Moody calls out with hushed urgency and points. "Can you see the fire on that hill?"

"Yes," says Neville, pointing with him. "I can see it through the trees."

"They must have just started the bonfire," adds Tonks, peering over the hedge. "The initiation ceremony is starting."

Oh, God. Please take care of Severus and Draco. Please, please, please.

"I can't see Roger anymore," says Ellen, looking up at the sky.

"He has to fly very high to stay above the wards," I explain. "He should be near the center of the estate by now."

"They must not have seen him or he hasn't triggered the wards," says Seamus. "There's no sign of any reaction on the hill or at least as nearly as I can see it."

There's a flash of lighting in the sky to north. Seconds later we hear the roll of thunder.

"That's him," I tell everyone around me in an excited whisper.

Another flash of lightning in a cloudless sky, followed by thunder.

"Do you see him?" I ask Ellen, who is still scanning the sky.

She points to the north. "I think that's him."

A moving shape off in the distance. "I think you're right."

"Holy shit," breathes Seamus, totally impressed as we see the Thunderbird flying back into view.

This time, Roger isn't being subtle. He's dropping altitude rapidly and shooting lightning bolts from his talons. The sound of thunder echoes off the hills.

"Do you hear that?" asks Tonks. "I think I'm hearing shouting from the hills."

"Then they've seen Roger," says Ellen. "That should shake them up considerably."

We hear the sound of a bell and give a whispered cheer.

"The wards are down!" I whisper excitedly. "Even if there was human sacrifice used to set the wards, they are down!"

Mad-Eye is looking up at the sky.

"Our flyers are taking off," he says, pointing.

There they are. I can barely see their outlines against the night sky. Twenty-four of our flyers, taking off in pairs. I can see so many of them in my head. Harry and Ron, Jean and Mark, George and Fred, Adrian and Blaise, Madam Hooch and Oliver Wood, Charlie and I don't know who he's paired with.

So many ready to take on the Death Eaters and throw our version of rotten eggs at Voldemort.

Oh, God. Please let all of them come back in one piece.

Moody starts moving down the line.

"In five minutes, the first wave of ground troops will head for the hill," he says to Tonks. "I want all of the rest of you to wait five more minutes and then it's your turn. Stay low. We want as many Death Eaters out of commission as possible before your team gets anywhere near Voldemort. Understood?"

"We're ready," says Tonks, sounding very determined.

Oh, God. Five more minutes.

I know that Severus will be right there with Voldemort, along with Lucius Malfoy and Draco. The flyers aren't going after Voldemort in the first run, so that they can take out as many Death Eaters on the ground as they can. That will give the three of them time to get rid of their robes and start firing off hexes at the other Death Eaters. They'll have surprise on their side and maybe be a little bit safer for it.

Please. Please.

"Good luck then. Remember, constant vigilance."

"Gotcher boss." says Tonks, with a grin.

Molly's not entirely comfortable crouched down so that her head can't be seen over the hedge. She's trying to crawl over to me, but it's hard to do in her long skirt. I move over to her and give her a hug.

"Stick with us, Molly. I'll feel better with you watching my back."

"That's exactly what I was planning from the beginning, Hermione. I'll be right with you all the way." Molly's voice is eager, but nervous.

I know she's worried about her family. I'm might be the honorary daughter but I'm the only one she can get near right now. She'll feel better if she's got me to look after.

"Wotcher, Hermione." says Tonks in hushed voice. "Looks like the ground troops are almost there."

"There! Over there by the hill. Can you see?" calls out Ellen.

I can see flashes of light. Red. Now blue. Oh Merlin, there's a green.

"Hold back, now." says Tonks. "We can't leave quite yet. We need to give our fighters on the ground enough time to get to the hill before we take off after them."

We're all standing now. Tonks waves her wand to make a break in the hedge. We follow after her. My heart is pounding. I realize Molly is clutching my hand. We're all breathing as if we've already started running.

Ellen comes up behind us. As soon as we leave, she's going to start setting up the medical station.

"It's time," says Tonks. "Follow my lead. Stay low, but move as fast as you can. If I say drop, don't ask questions, just do it." She points ahead of us to a stand of bushes several yards away. "Run to those bushes. We'll use the Portkeys from there."

"Good luck, all of you," says Ellen. "Be careful." I nod to her.

Tonks begins move towards the stand of bushes. We're loping after her. Molly's holding up her skirts. We reach the bushes and dive to the ground behind them. Molly's panting and cursing.

"I can't run in this damn thing." she spits.

I'm running towards a battlefield with Voldemort in the middle of it and I'm shocked that Molly Weasley is using bad language.

Molly takes out her wand and points it at herself. Two swishes, a flick and some Latin later, she's wearing trousers. I've never seen Molly in trousers.

Tonks is looking out over to the hill. Seamus and Neville are on either side of her. We're a quarter of the way there.

I can see other shapes running towards the hill from the south of us. Yes, there's the flyers coming from the north. I can see the flashes of light atop the hill and shapes moving across the sky. Suddenly the night sky fills with the intense light of one of Roger's lightning bolts. It looks like that one was aimed right at the hill.

Tonks stands and I can see her in the flash.

"Portkey to the area by those trees," she calls, pointing.

I finger my Portkey.

"Let's go!" she calls. We take off after her.

I barely even felt the pull behind my naval before I land behind the small stand of trees. We're most of the way to the hill.

Now we have to be careful. We might find resistance, even though forty of our ground troops got there ahead of us.

Tonks is running to the front, Seamus is to my left side and Molly is to the right and slightly behind me. She's running surprisingly well now that she's in the trousers. Neville is bringing up the rear.

We're a few hundred yards from the hill. I can hear shouting and screams. There are flashes from hexes coming down from the sky towards the crown of the hill. We can see shapes moving in front of us. There are hexes being thrown up there.

We are running in a half bent over manner, trying to avoid becoming targets.

We can hear the triumphant cry of the Thunderbird, as lightning strikes somewhere near the north side of the hill. There's more shouting after that.

Tonks slows for second and moves towards the south, moving up the hill. She's looking for a way up with the fewest people ahead of us. We're climbing and staying low.

Over to the left, coming down the hill, someone's running. A flash of blue from Seamus and they're down.

We keep moving. We're really slowing down as we reach the top. I can see much more clearly. I need to catch my breath.

It's pandemonium up there. I can see the flyers. Not close enough to tell who they are, but they are dipping and diving. Firing at shapes I can see ahead of us.

Yes. Dark robes, silver masks. There's Death Eaters up here.

And our own people. More flashes of blue and green.

We're at the edge, coming onto the top of the hill. Tonks drops and we follow. She's checking out the top of the hill.

It's bigger than I realized. I can see the bonfire. It's at the north end of the top of the hill. We're closer to the southwest side, right now.

Tonks crouches and waves to us to follow. We're skirting the top of the hill, getting closer to the action.

It's smoky now and harder to breathe. We're still skirting the edge of the top of the hill. The target is ahead of us.

We've passed by Death Eaters dueling members of the Order. I thought I saw Lee Jordan a moment ago, dueling someone in silver mask. We keep moving. We have to sight Voldemort.

"That's it!" I call to Tonks and the others. "The flyers are starting the strafing runs!"

Above us, I can see a pair of flyers. One is slightly ahead of the other, bearing down at a place ahead of us and to the right. The other is firing off hexes at the ground.

"Over there." I point for the others. "There's a blue shield. They've thrown the first orb. We've got to get closer."

Tonks pauses a moment and waves us down the hill a bit. "This way."

We're creeping now, getting closer. Hexes are flying over our heads. Ohmigod.

A dark robe and silver mask comes at Tonks. I see a blue flash. Tonks dives and rolls. She comes up on her knees and points her wand and throws a stunning spell. The robe collapses.

Tonks moves over the form and pulls off the mask. It's no one I recognize, but Tonks seems to know who it is. She casts a body bind and in seconds, he's wrapped up in black ropes. He won't be going anywhere.

We get moving again. We just need to get a little closer.

Another strafing run. I can see two flyers. They're dodging hexes as they dip down. I'm watching intently to see where they hit. There it is. It's brighter here and I can see.

There's the blue flash from the shield. I can see now. There's a form inside it. Voldemort's taken a hit.

We're moving down the hill so that we can get behind them or at least closer to the side. There's cover over there, some trees and bushes. We head for it.

There's a flash of yellow light and the shield is gone. Voldemort broke the shield, so it wasn't a full hit.

There are shapes beside Voldemort. I can see him clearly now in the light from the bonfire. He's shouting, but I can't tell what he's saying. He's pointing at the sky. I see a green flash.

Oh no, oh no. There's a form falling from the sky. Oh no. Oh God.

Another blue flash and the shield goes up. Voldemort's in it. That's number two.

There's two Death Eaters by Voldemort. One of them aims a wand. Another yellow flash and the blue shield is gone.

There are other forms running towards them. I move closer so I can see clearly. I can hear better. Tonks is beside me; Seamus is on the other side, Molly's behind me. Neville is watching the rear.

Molly grabs my waistcoat and pulls me down. I don't care. I need to be able to see and hear.

I'm looking and I don't see Severus. He must be fighting somewhere else on the hill. Oh God, where is he? Please be all right.

There are flashes of light up in the sky again. It's another strafing run. The two Death Eaters beside Voldemort are pointing at the sky. I see flashes coming from their wands. One flash is blue. The other is green. The green missed. I'm not sure about the blue.

I hear a scream and another form falls from the sky. Oh God. Please help whoever it is.

There's another flash of blue. The shield is up. Oh shit, it missed Voldemort.

Wait, wait. One of the flyers is coming back around for another pass. I see the broom dip and another flash of red. Merlin, please. The flyer is hit, I can see the jolt. Hold on. Don't fall, don't fall.

There's a flash of blue on the ground. A shield is up, but it's up around one of the Death Eaters next to Voldemort.

I watch in fascination as the Death Eater raises his wand inside the shield. Nothing happens. Voldemort is watching and points his wand at the shield. There's a flash of yellow and the shield disintegrates. The Death Eater inside the shield collapses.

Voldemort is moving over towards him, bends and pulls on his robe. He releases it and the Death Eater falls in a limp heap. At that moment, there's a flash of blue. Voldemort is inside a blue shield.

That's number three. Come on, we're close. No, wait. It's a yellow flash and the shield is gone. Not long enough.

The Death Eater on the ground is moving, trying to crawl. The other Death Eater goes over and tries to help him up. No, help her up. It's a woman. She took off her mask. She's moving like she's drunk.

The Happy-Sleepy is working. It's working. It's working on a human subject! She's waving her wand and shouting. Nothing's happening. There's no magic!

Voldemort is shouting something to the other Death Eater. He points his wand into the sky and begins shooting off hexes, one after another.

Other Death Eaters are running this way. Oh crap. We've got to move down the hill.

We're too close. We start scooting backwards down the hill. Neville is in front of me. Ohmygod. There's one of the Death Eaters and he's seen us. He's pointing his wand and I see a red flash. Neville is up and countering with a _Protego_ followed by a stunning hex.

Neville is moving towards him and to the south. He's trying to draw him away from us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see blue flash. I turn my head. Voldemort's inside another blue shield. That's number four. Keep them coming. Keep them coming.

A yellow flash from the outside. The shield is gone. The shields aren't staying up long enough.

There's more Death Eaters coming. It looks like they're gathering around Voldemort.

Our troops are coming. I can hear them moving through the grass and the leaves. More flashes of white and red light are coming from above. It's another strafing run.

Voldemort is shouting and shooting hexes into the sky. The other Death Eaters are shooting hexes into the sky.

Cut the strafing run! Back off! Back off!

There's the whistle of the BludgeSucker flying by. It just hit one of the Death Eaters in the back of the head. He falls and stays down. I can hear a laugh up above that sounds suspiciously like Jean.

There's more hexes coming from the south. It's our fighters. There are hexes going back and forth between the Death Eaters and our ground troops.

There must be a dozen Death Eaters around Voldemort.

There's green light. Two of our fighters fall.

A flash of blue. There it is. I can see a shield. Missed Voldemort, it's up around one of the Death Eaters.

Another flash of blue. The shield is up. It's up around Voldemort. We've got five, but they haven't stayed up long enough. He's still standing.

There's a flash of yellow light from inside. The shield is gone.

I hear what sounds like an explosion. A tree just exploded on the west side of the hilltop, sending chunks of wood into two Death Eaters. They collapse in a pair of bloody heaps.

Limnoreia turns away from her handiwork and casts towards a group of Death Eaters to her left. They dive to avoid the hex and Limnoreia runs after them.

More flashes of yellow and red. There's two, no three more Death Eaters down.

The Death Eaters are looking up again and casting hexes into the sky. It's another strafing run.

I can see one of our ground troops getting close to the circle around Voldemort. I see white blonde hair.

It's one of the Malfoys. I can't tell if it is Draco or his father.

There's a flash of green. Malfoy drops and rolls. It missed.

It's definitely his father. Malfoy is firing red flashes from the ground.

There's another strafing run. A flash of blue. A shield is up around Voldemort.

That's number six.

Malfoy is rolling. He's closer and I can see his face. It's definitely Lucius Malfoy. Where's Draco? I haven't seen him anywhere and certainly not his Animagus form.

Flashes of yellow. The shield is down.

Voldemort is pointing his wand at Malfoy, but Malfoy fires first. A flash of red. Voldemort is hit. Voldemort spins and fires back. I can't see Malfoy.

There's another group of our fighters coming up from the south. They're close.

Mad-Eye. I can see Mad-Eye. He's casting stunning hexes. A red flash. Oh God! Oh God! Mad-Eye is falling. He's hit. He's hit.

I'm getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hear the cry of the Thunderbird. Molly and Tonks are looking up and pointing. It feels so horrible and cold, but I lift my head to look and see dozens of shapes in the sky. The flyers are backing off, moving to the west.

Dementors. Voldemort summoned Dementors.

"Oh shit!" yells Tonks. _"Expecto Patronum!" _

A silver wolf.

Followed by Molly. _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silver cow?

Followed by Seamus. "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver fox

I feel horrible. I haven't seen Severus. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

More of the Patroni are being cast. I can see a silver tiger. Jean's crocodile is up there. There's a squirrel. Harry's Prongs is kicking one of the Dementors. There are a dozen, but there are too many Dementors.

I want to quit. Severus is dead. They should kill me, too. If I drop my wand, they'll kill me. I can be with Severus.

_Protect_

I hear the voice inside my head.

_Protect_

I look for a memory.

_Severus room at headquarters, I'm so sick. So terribly sick. Mum and Dad are here. They're here. They forgive me. We approve of your young man, says Mum. We love you. We will always love you. Severus holding me. Looking at the gold cauldron with green potion in it. He loves me. Severus loves me._

I raise my wand and shout.

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

Otter.

It's Otter.

Ohmigod.

It's Godzilla-sized Otter.

"Merlin's balls," says Molly, agog.

My wand pointed at the sky, I turn my head and stare at her in astonishment.

Molly using profanity is more remarkable than a giant silver Otter Patronus attacking the Dementors.

I look back up. Otter is wiggling and dancing across the sky, nipping at Dementors as he goes. It looks like he swallowed one whole and an empty set of robes falls from the sky.

There's another giant form coming from the west. It isn't Roger. He just flew off to the east.

It's the Piasa Bird! Draco's Patronus has changed. It isn't a peregrine falcon anymore. Instead, there is a monster bird with fangs, talons, and a razor sharp tail.

The horrible feeling of their presence is fading as the Dementors fly off in all directions. Except for the ones that Otter and the Piasa Bird ate. It's the only explanation I can think of for the empty sets of raggedy robes falling from the sky.

That's what Otter meant by _protect_. The Piasa Bird and Otter must be the natural enemies of the Dementors.

The Dementors are reforming in a pack to the north. Otter and the Piasa Bird are flying in that direction.

The Thunderbird is overhead and sends a bolt of lightning into the pack.

Otter shimmies and shakes, like he does when he's flinging water off his fur.

Not again. Honestly, Otter. Can't you resist temptation?

It's like I just had a barrel of water dropped all over me. I'm drenched.

That obnoxious, wonderful, dearest Otter just got me all wet again.

The Dementors are fleeing.

"The motherfuckers are leaving!" shouts Seamus, triumphantly shaking his fist at them.

Otter is chasing after them. His teeth are snapping at their tails. If Dementors have tails. The Piasa Bird is whipping that vicious tail of his and splitting Dementors in two.

I'm laughing. It's the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. My Otter and the Piasa Bird are the nemesis of Dementors everywhere.

"How in Merlin's name did you do that?" shouts Tonks, looking at me as if I'd grown a second head.

I brush my wet hair back away from my face.

"Navajo trade secret," I yell back. "I can't tell unless Roger gives me permission."

Tonk's hair turns bright pink.

"Remind me to thank him," says Molly, casting a drying charm over me so I can quit dripping everywhere.

The sky lights up again as Roger sends another lightning bolt to the east side of the hill, sending a group of Death Eaters scattering. It startles us and everyone else.

We all look up as we hear a cry from the Thunderbird and the sound of a screaming man.

Roger has a writhing screaming man in his talons and is flying off with him.

I wonder if it is Greyback? Roger did promise to drop him like a sack of potatoes from way up.

The fighting starts again.

More light from above. There are hexes raining down on the Death Eaters. There are fallen Death Eaters all over the place.

I can see flyers circling overhead.

They're creating a killing zone.

Our fighters are moving in on the ground.

Another flash of blue. A shield is up. It missed.

Voldemort is firing flashes of green into the fighters on the ground.

Four, no five more are down.

There's maybe eight Death Eaters around him now. The one who is stoned is lying on the ground. There are a half dozen unconscious or dead Death Eaters around the bonfire.

Another flash of blue. The shield is up around Voldemort. That's seven.

Voldemort stumbles.

There's a yellow flash. One of the Death Eaters brought down the shield.

White flashes and green coming from the Death Eaters. One of our ground fighters falls.

Two more Death Eaters fall when flashes come from our fighters.

Our troops are close now.

I can see Lucius Malfoy again. He's backing off as one of the Death Eaters moves away from Voldemort. They begin to trade hexes.

There. Over there. Oh God. Oh God. I can see him. He's over there.

I can see Severus. He's all right. He's all right. He's all right. Thank you God! Thank you God!

He's firing cutting hexes at Voldemort. One connects and Voldemort grabs his arm.

Severus got his wand arm!

One of flyers dips and there's a blue flash. The shield is up around Voldemort.

Number eight.

Voldemort raises his wand. There's a yellow flash, but it's not as bright as before.

This is good. This is very good.

I hear a crack and the BludgeSucker hits a tall Death Eater right in his face mask. He falls into a limp pile.

Another flash of blue. Voldemort's in another one.

Number nine.

Two of the Death Eaters aim at the shield. Yellow flash and it's down.

Severus and Malfoy move towards the two Death Eaters. They're casting alternating blue and red flashes.

The two Death Eaters are moving away from Voldemort, moving towards Severus and Malfoy.

White and green flashes.

Severus and Malfoy counter.

It's like watching a ballet.

Severus is crouching. He comes up and his wand is extended, like a fencing master.

There's a flash of white and Severus drops and rolls. Malfoy rises up over him and then dives and rolls. They come up with wands flashing.

Malfoy's covering Severus, red blasts from his wand.

It's like they've choreographed their movements. I'm watching elegance on the battlefield as they take their stance, firing one hex after another.

Severus and Malfoy have four Death Eaters coming at them, dueling with them, away from Voldemort.

Two of our fighters have moved in between the Death Eaters and Voldemort and are firing at him.

More cutting hexes at the Death Eaters.

I'm watching Severus and Malfoy duel with the Death Eaters. They're casting spells faster than I thought was possible. They're coordinating their actions so they alternate spells.

Another fighter joins them. It's Neville. He's all right. He's firing off a Jellylegs and one of the Death Eaters goes down.

Severus casts a body bind on one of the Death Eaters.

Another orb strikes the ground in front of the Dark Lord. That's ten.

Voldemort is swaying.

There are hexes flying in all directions towards Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They're coming from the sky and from the ground. Yellow, blue, red, white.

It's a bombardment.

The Death Eaters are casting back as fast as they can. They're so busy; they can't turn around and free Voldemort.

It has to be 30 seconds. 40 seconds.

A dim yellow flash.

It's inside the shield and it doesn't work.

Another yellow flash and the shield is down.

Voldemort is still on his feet. He tries to raise his wand arm at the flyers and can't. He switches to his left hand and fires off green.

It's not as bright, but it hits one of our flyers and a body falls to the ground.

Another blue flash. This one missed. Voldemort is outside the shield.

The Death Eaters are getting closer to Voldemort, pushed back by the bombardment all around them.

Voldemort is casting again. Damn it! The flashes are brighter and stronger.

He's throwing off the Happy-Sleepy. I look at the fighters. Where are our flyers? I don't see the others with orbs.

I make the obvious decision.

I move.

I'm on my feet moving. Molly is running right after me and Tonks after her.

I'm running towards our fighters. I pull out an orb.

We've got our wands out now and we're casting. I'm sending up one _Protego_ after another. Molly's sending out stunners. Tonks is casting slicing hexes.

I'm getting close. One of the fighters sees me and yells something. I'm close and he's running towards me.

It's Harry. What the hell is Harry doing on the ground? I hold out the orb and he grabs it, spins and throws. He smashes it into Voldemort's face.

The shield's up. That's eleven.

I'm panting and running as fast as I can. Molly's still behind me, casting to my left.

Lucius Malfoy is next. He holds out his hand and I pass him the orb.

He takes off towards Voldemort.

I can see Severus. He's running towards me, casting at Death Eaters to my left. One falls.

I'm almost there. I've got my hand in my pocket.

I throw a stunning hex to my right and miss. I throw another and connect.

That one's down. There's another behind him.

Severus has his hand out. He's almost to me.

I hold out the orb. In an instant he's got it in one hand and grabs my arm with the other, pushing me down. There's a flash of white to my right and everything goes black.

* * *

Author's Notes

Thank you to my reviewers: Wynnleaf, o0morgana0o, Dverducci, Sylphides, MiaRose156, Swytla, Fatalani-Zabini, Princessfiona, Andi-Scribbles, Snapeygirl, Magicdaisy, Brillant, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Instar, Yapyap, KeepPDXWeird, Stelze, MissMelysse, Lonelygirl54, Duj, Sinkme, Oscarxena, Darque Hart, Cwest, Jade2099, Vestal Harlot, CharmedForce, MoreThanSirius, Yasmin, Jocemum, Rebecca, Voldemort is Dead, Arime Setta, Blue Artemis, Notwritten, NarcissaM, MollysSister, Severessa, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Karla Manatee, Laurenke1, T wrecks, Machshefa, Missbluejuju, Pirra, Ultigirl, Koliber, Squeaker19450, Ginz.x, Ginnilini, SpSt, Arsinoe De Blassenville, Shadow, Mela, Brotherchaos, Werforpsu, MissPrincess1989, Maddie50, Chaotizitaet, Quiet-mg, Traceyww, KimJo, Keske, T, Snowyskies, Rinny08, Allycat1186, Angel-65, Lyndie578, Shadow, Kelly and Tarirose.


	102. Chapter 102

It's not mine.

Please give a get-well shout-out to Julia. Her whole family has a nasty stomach thing going on and they are all miserable.

Then, join me in saying thanks to Darque Hart. Without her generously filling in at the last minute and giving this chapter a once over, it would be posted unbetaed. Believe me, it wouldn't be a pretty sight.

* * *

June 21st, 1999  
Countdown: Zero  
Severus

There is some light from the moon, but not enough to make our way without stumbling. Lucius has cast a _Lumos_ so that we can climb the well-worn path to the top of the hill. Once we are there, the bonfire should cast sufficient light around the area that we will be able to see.

We have shifted positions so that Draco is walking behind me. When we reach the top of the hill, Draco will be expected to walk to my left and two to three paces back. The ritual will begin as soon as we find the Circle of Death Eaters.

We are just below the top of the hill. We pause for a moment and I keep watch in front of us. I cannot hear what Lucius is saying to Draco, but they embrace for a brief moment. They both straighten their robes. Lucius comes to stand at my side and Draco takes his position behind me and to the left.

We move in unison. Coming to the top of the hill, we can see from the light cast by the bonfire. The Circle is ahead of us. As we come close, Lucius splits off to join our brethren. He is going to get as close to the front as he can on the west side of the half circle. There will be a few trees behind him and we intend to join him there once the battle begins.

Draco and I have arrived at the circle. I can see the Dark Lord seated on his throne, backlit by the bonfire. The stone altar is to his right. It is set at a height suitable for the Dark Lord to rape the initiate at the culmination of the ceremony.

It will not go that far tonight.

The two Death Eaters who stand directly before me signal the Dark Lord that we have arrived. He rises and stands on the dais before the altar, using _Sonorus _so that he can be heard clearly by all of those present.

"_Who comes before the Circle of True Believers?" _calls the Dark Lord.

I give the ritual response.

"I am a Death Eater, sworn to the service of Voldemort, Lord of the Way of Darkness."

"_Who accompanies you?" _he asks.

"A supplicant who has seen the Path to True Power in the service of the Dark Lord," I reply.

"_Do you stand as sponsor to this supplicant?"_

"I do, my Lord."

"_Then you and your supplicant may enter the Circle of True Believers."_

The Circle parts and Draco and I enter. We walk in careful cadence to the front and stand before Lord Voldemort. As the privileged and trusted sponsor, I am allowed to drop to one knee. Draco drops to both knees and then lays face down on the ground.

I kiss the Dark Lord's ring.

"_Rise, my loyal Death Eater_," he directs. I rise and stand to the side so that Draco is before the Dark Lord.

"_All who come before the Lord of the Way of Darkness to seek admission to the Circle shall be judged for their worthiness," _he intones_._

All Death Eaters are expected to respond. "For this is the way of the Circle," we reply in unison.

"_Only few are called," _says the Dark Lord.

"For this is the way of the Circle," we reply.

"_Only the worthy are admitted."_

"For this is the way of the Circle."

"_Stand before your Lord. Stand before those you would call your brothers and sisters and be judged."_

"For this is the way of the Circle."

There is silence as Draco rises to his feet. I can feel the eyes of forty Death Eaters at my back.

Voldemort begins the litany. Draco must give the expected responses.

"_Magic is given only to the chosen ones."_

"It is a gift of the gods," says Draco, with a strong voice.

"_The Way of the Dark Wizard is the True Way."_

"It is the only path to Enlightenment," he responds.

"_The Lord of the Way of Darkness is the Voice of Power."_

"He is blessed with the Knowledge of Truth," says Draco.

"_To understand the Darkness is to wield Power."_

"Only those who listen to the Voice of the Way shall wield such Power."

There is a flash of light and a rumble of thunder coming from the north. I do not allow my elation to show in any way.

"_Do you seek to wield True Power?"_

"I do."

"_I am Lord Voldemort. I am the Voice of the Way and will lead you through the Paths of Darkness to True Power."_

As if in contest to that claim, there is another flash of lightning and thunder, much closer this time. I hear the cry of the Thunderbird rolling across the hills.

The Dark Lord stops and looks up into the sky. A Death Eater with a silver hand steps out of the Circle and runs to the Dark Lord's side. Pettigrew's wand is moving frantically.

The Dark Lord stares at the sky and casts a spell. I recognize the wand movements. They are analyzing the wards.

Death Eaters are staring at the sky and a giant form comes into view. The Thunderbird offers a triumphant screech loud enough to cause one's ears to bleed.

Well done, Roger!

"The wards are down!" shouts Voldemort. "Take defensive positions."

There is yelling and wands are aimed at the sky just in time for a bolt of lightning to issue from a giant talon and strike in the center of the ceremonial circle. The thunderclap is deafening.

Now, there is pandemonium. Death Eaters are running in all directions. Some are taking cover in the trees. I see a few attempt to Apparate, only to be slammed back to the ground by anti-Apparition wards newly set by the Order. Others are gathering around the Dark Lord, firing at the Thunderbird.

Roger has ascended to a height where the hexes dissipate before they can reach him. Given that he poses an enormous target, that is a wise strategy.

Draco rises to his feet. In the confusion surrounding us, I hand him his wand. We both turn and start firing hexes at the Thunderbird, knowing that they cannot strike him.

We move towards the Dark Lord as if to defend him. I see Lucius doing the same. No point in tipping our hand early.

Our wands are pointed at the sky, ready to fire at the Thunderbird. It swings around and flies high above our heads, out of range.

"What is that monster?" calls a voice that I recognize to be Rutherford's.

"I have never seen anything like it," calls out the Dark Lord, shooting fiery bolts of light at it. "Whatever it is, it has shattered the wards."

"My Lord," shouts Lucius. "Allow me to go to the Manor and assess the situation."

"No," orders the Dark Lord, in a harsh tone. "Rutherford and Dolohov will go and see to Madam Malfoy's safety. I want you here with me."

Two forms break off from the group and run. With any luck, they will go through the rose garden.

"Master," shouts Bellatrix. "Look to the south."

That is our signal. As soon as they see the flyers coming, they will realize that this more than an attack by an unknown magical creature. Lucius, Draco and I will be recognized as likely traitors.

Roger is a most accommodating fellow. By happy coincidence, he sends another lightning bolt into the top of the hill. Voldemort and his guard hit the ground and we use the opportunity to head for cover in the trees.

I aim a few spells at the bonfire before we disappear into the brush. They will not be able to extinguish the fire and make it more difficult for the flyers to target my fellow Death Eaters.

By the time the others get to their feet, the flyers have arrived and are bombarding the top of the hill from the air with a wide assortment of blasting spells. Draco, Lucius and I are hiding behind the trees. Lucius and I pull off our masks and drop our robes. Both of us are wearing dueling clothes underneath.

"What the hell is that thing?" asks Lucius, tying his hair back with a cord.

"That's Professor Littlehorse," says Draco, happily. "His Animagus form is a Thunderbird. It can shatter any ward with lightning."

"A useful skill," Lucius replies. "I must compliment him."

"Speaking of which," I say as I turn to Draco. "What is your Animagus form?"

"You achieved an Animagus form?" asks Lucius, sounding startled and impressed.

"I did just a few days ago," says Draco, proudly. "I'm a peregrine falcon."

He closes his eyes to concentrate.

He is interrupted by an exploding tree to the left of us and we all dive for cover.

He closes his eyes again and nothing happens.

"I don't think I can do it right now," he says, sounding distressed.

"It isn't needed right now," says Lucius, reassuringly. "You can try again, later. Meantime, we need to transfigure what you are wearing so you will not be mistaken for a Death Eater."

Lucius works quickly. He always was better at Transfiguration than I am.

In short order, Draco is wearing what looks like red long johns. At least he has the form to carry it off.

One more wand wave and the red long johns turn brown. A much better color for blending into the woods.

The bombardment continues from above. A few of the bolder Death Eaters are shouting out _Protego_ and firing back. More are leaving the cover of the woods and making short forays into the open where they can get a better shot at the flyers. I just saw one of them hit and fall from the sky, joining two Death Eater casualties on the ground.

"What are we waiting for?" asks Lucius, crouching down next to me.

"The ground troops should be arriving shortly," I reply in a loud whisper. "Once they reach us, we can join the attack. Otherwise, we make too easy a target."

"I don't like waiting here," says Draco, his voice urgent. "Can't I go to the Manor and check on Mother?"

"Not unless you can fly there," I order.

Draco's face pinches with concentration. We wait a moment and he shakes his head.

"Where are Snape and the Malfoys?" yells one of the Death Eaters crouching by Voldemort, his wand maintaining a shield over their heads.

"Shit," whispers Draco.

"Excellent question," shouts the Dark Lord in return. "I want them brought to me alive."

"Shit, indeed," I reply, softly. The Dark Lord has realized that we must be involved. We need to stay hidden for now.

Lucius leads the way and we move further from the bonfire. We are supposed to wait until the ground troops reach the hill before we join the fight.

"Can we Apparate?" asks Lucius.

"No," I reply. "Every time Littlehorse shatters the wards, there are Order members throwing up new anti-Apparition wards. Between the flyers and ground troops, we have about seventy people here. We outnumber the Death Eaters almost two to one."

There is a flash of blue light, narrowly missing Draco and we all drop to the ground.

"It looks like there is no point in waiting," Lucius comments, fingering his wand.

"I agree," I reply, itching to get into the fight.

We both fire back in the direction of the blue light and hear a squeal of pain.

"Let's do it," calls out Draco, eagerly.

We move ahead, stealthily. There is no point in making ourselves easy targets. As we come to the edge of the trees, I hear the whistling sound of a BludgeSucker.

"Duck," I yell to Draco and Lucius.

Lucius drops, but Draco does not. The BludgeSucker comes within an inch of his head and stops short. It kisses him and flies off.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" asks Lucius.

"A BludgeSucker," I reply. "It is on our side."

"I hope that it will do more than kiss when it encounters one of the enemy," mutters Lucius.

We hear a loud thud and what sounds like a melon splatting on stone. We are at the edge of the trees and peer out.

"It looks like that might have been Amycus Carrow," observes Lucius. "Do you think the BludgeSucker did that?"

"The hair color is right and it was probably female," I reply. "It is difficult to tell with the mask dented in like that and all the blood. I would guess that her face is caved in. I am confident that it was the BludgeSucker at work."

Draco responds by retching.

"I do hope you will introduce me to your inventive friends," drawls Lucius.

"I shall be more than happy to," I reply. "Be forewarned that they have already been discussing terms of sale with the Weasley twins."

"I shall make them an offer they cannot refuse," counters Lucius.

I refrain from mentioning that Jean Lamb's husband is one of the inventors. I would very much like to witness such a meeting from a heavily protected vantage point.

There is a steady bombardment of hexes coming from overhead and we can hear the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves rustling behind us.

"I believe we are about to have welcome company," observes Lucius, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves.

"What say we go ahead and get a head start on them?" I ask.

"I am not feeling particularly productive hiding here in the brush," replies Lucius, looking at Draco. "Are you game, son?"

"I'm more than ready, Father," he says, looking away from the bloody corpse in front of us.

"When we have finished with the Dark Lord," instructs Lucius, "we shall meet by the bonfire and then go to check on your mother."

"Pudding and Dobby are working together to try and hide her," I add.

"Excellent," says Lucius. "The rose garden should take care of Rutherford, Dolohov, and anyone else foolish enough to try and pass through there. We will only have to worry about LeDrox. If the elves have hidden her, Narcissa will be fine when we get there. We will only have to take care of LeDrox."

"I would not say _only_ to that," I comment. "She is as deadly as they come."

"Nonsense," Lucius retorts. "You have already charmed her. You need only ply your masculine wiles and she will be putty in your hands."

"In case you have failed to notice," I reply with a snort, "I do not believe that I have _any _masculine wiles. That will leave us fighting her tooth and nail."

"Tut, tut," offers Lucius. "Just imagine that you are me and say what I would say. That should resolve the issue quick smart."

"Can we start hurting Death Eaters sometime soon?" whines Draco.

"I believe so," I reply, looking up. The flyers seem to be approaching the area in pairs. So the strafing runs must be starting.

I look at Lucius and understand what he wants. He will go after the Dark Lord's closest minions, while I keep Draco with me and go after the lesser skilled Death Eaters of the Circle. Given the Dark Lord's plans, he is entitled to first blood in a blood feud or first important kill in a single battle. I nod to him and give him his instructions.

"If you see the Dark Lord surrounded by a blue containment field, it means that the Happy-Sleepy potion is at work. Do not interfere. The flyers will be pelting him with breakable orbs."

"Very well," replies Lucius in cultured tones. "As I recall, no killing the Dark Lord. May I kill everyone around him?"

"By all means," I reply, encouragingly. "You have plenty of reason to hold a grudge against most of them."

"In that case," says Lucius, thoughtfully, "I shall make my way back in the general direction of the Dark Lord. If the two of you would like to keep going and take after the others?"

"That will do for a start," I reply. "Draco and I will join the Order members and distract the general population so that they do not come to the Dark Lord's defense."

At that, Lucius skulks away towards the bonfire. Draco watches until Lucius disappears into darkness of the trees. He turns to me and we move further down along the hill. We are at the edge of the clearing and there are a half a dozen Death Eaters within a good stone's throw from where we stand. We hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind us and I hear Mad-Eye Moody urging them on.

"Now!" calls that gravelly voice.

Draco and I burst out from the woods, throwing hexes and blasting curses in all directions. We are joined by a dozen Order members. I like outnumbering the enemy two to one. Our only disadvantage is that Death Eaters are better and more brutal fighters than Order members.

"Good to see you!" shouts Arthur, as he duels with a Death Eater I do not recognize.

A second Death Eater aims at Arthur's back. Draco hits him with stunner and I place him in a body bind set with the password we agreed to use for all body binds. No Death Eater will be released, except by an Order member.

"It is a pleasure to see you, too," I reply, hitting the other Death Eater with a stinging hex that results in him dropping his wand.

Arthur takes advantage and hits him with a sleeping spell, followed by a body bind.

"There's two down," he says, dashing off as he spies another Death Eater who is dueling with Bill.

Draco and I are kept busy for a while, as four of our former compatriots recognize us and decide that we should be killed in as bloody a manner as possible. Fortunately for Draco and me, they are unsuccessful, especially after Arthur and Bill hit them with blasting curses in the back.

Death Eaters are not the only ones who can fight dirty.

Draco has a shallow cut to the shoulder, which I heal with a charm.

One of the Death Eaters is missing his wand hand, which Draco removed with a well-executed Sectumsempra. As Draco puts it, he shouldn't have been aiming at us if he wanted to keep it.

I am certain the Dark Lord would have preferred that Lucius and I had trained his Death Eater recruits better.

There have been flashes of light behind us, nearer to the bonfire, coinciding with the passing of flyers above us. I hope that they have struck home with the Dark Lord.

Using silencing charms, Draco and I move carefully through the woods. Some of the Death Eaters have retreated into the brush and are trying to work their way down the hill. Hiding behind trees, Draco and I stun one of them and then body bind him to a tree so he can be retrieved later.

We are on our third Death Eater when a wave of depression falls over me. Draco raises his head and looks at me, his eyes hollow.

"We're going to lose," he says, mournfully. "The Dark Lord will kill us horribly. He'll use my mother."

I drop to my knees, a mass of anxiety.

I recognize this feeling. I get it whenever I have had to invite a girl to dance or when Dementors are around.

I look up at Draco.

"Dementors."

Draco whimpers.

I look for a happy memory.

_Standing on the cellar stairs at midnight on New Years Eve as Hermione bends her head down to kiss me. Entering numbers into the calculator as Hermione reads them to me. Hermione rubbing her face against my erection through my nightshirt during the Virgo Curato Ritual. Realizing that I love her._

I raise my wand.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" I shout.

A silvery mist issues from my wand and begins to take the form of the panther that has been my Patronus ever since Minerva taught me how to cast one.

This is not right.

That is too small to be a panther.

And fluffy.

With a squashy face.

Draco is on his feet beside me, gaping at the change in my Patronus.

His arm goes up and he shouts "_Expecto Patronum_!"

Today seems to be the day for the unexpected. Draco's elegant peregrine falcon Patronus is growing.

That is the ugliest damn bird I have ever seen and it is getting huge.

This monster bird joins my new fluffy Patronus and they fly off together to take on the Dementors. I see a dozen other Patroni above us, including an enormous one whose shape I cannot quite make out.

They are driving off the Dementors. The temptation to wallow in sadness is diminishing.

This is so embarrassing.

Draco is turning pink, trying not to laugh.

"You will not tell anyone about this," I state, threateningly.

Draco bites his lip and nods.

Shit.

"What was that thing?" I ask, hurriedly.

"The Piasa Bird," says Draco. "I'll explain later."

I hear the Thunderbird cry and another bolt of lightning strikes somewhere to the north.

The Dementors are gone.

Another bolt of lightning strikes the side of the hill, much to close to where we are.

It is time to get out into the open. We are ready to run when we hear a crash behind us. A flyer is down. It sounds like he landed about halfway down the side of the hill.

Draco and I creep towards the fallen flyer. Half sliding down the hillside, we reach the flyer crumpled in the brush. I recognize him, his empty eyes wide with surprise.

Oliver Wood. Too young. Damn it. Too young

I crouch and run my wand over him to find the unused orb in his pocket. I pull it out and put it in my own.

Draco played against him when Wood was still at Hogwarts. Now, he reaches down and straightens the body. It is the hand of a man that reaches out and closes Oliver Wood's eyes. He looks at me across the corpse of a man who was once an enemy and now an ally.

He summons the two pieces of the broken broom and lays them by Wood's side. A blast hitting the ground five yards away reminds us that we need to move. Clambering back up the hill, we come back out in the open.

Draco and I both turn as we hear a scream overhead. The Thunderbird has just swooped down and grabbed a man with both talons.

I see Remus running and shouting something I cannot hear as Roger flies away with the flailing form. A Death Eater is running towards his back, wand extended.

Draco fires off a blasting curse and gets him first. That startles Remus out of whatever was going on in his head and he runs towards us. He is panting as we join him in his run.

"Greyback," says Remus, looking surprisingly feral.

"Shall we go after Voldemort?" asks Draco, looking around for more foes.

I see Hagrid standing on the side of the hill, blocking retreat down the path that leads to the Manor. Blasting curses are issuing from that enormous umbrella of his. Bill is chasing a Death Eater across to the other side of the clearing. Two other Order members that I do not recognize have just disarmed Crabbe. Three more Order members are going into the wooded area, hoping to flush out more of those who are fleeing. There are two fallen Death Eaters and one fallen Order member not twenty feet from where we stand.

The three of us start to run in the direction of the bonfire. We are halfway there when we hear a crash in the trees to our right. Another one of our flyers is down. We spy Death Eaters coming in our direction, sending cutting curses ahead of them. Lupin covers us, throwing flame-thrower curses at them as we retreat into the woods.

We keep moving along the edge of the woods, working our way towards the bonfire and hoping to find the flyer along the way. Lupin is bringing up the rear.

"Wait!" he calls to us and he stops to sniff the air. His werewolf's sense of smell is picking up something.

"Harry," he says, urgently.

Remus is sniffing and moving through the brush. In a minute, he is partway down the hill, scrabbling through the brush.

We reach Potter, who is lying on the ground next to shrub that only partially broke his fall. He is huffing and trying to catch his breath. Remus drops to his knees beside him and runs a diagnostic charm.

Draco retrieves Potter's Firebolt,

Remus looks up at us. "The fall knocked the wind out of him and he has a broken wrist. He'll be all right in a few minutes."

Remus is doing a healing charm on Potter's wrist.

I look at Draco. Draco looks at me. We both look down at Potter, whose eyes are squeezed closed as the repair happens without painkillers. Draco raises his head. Our eyes meet. He asks the question and I nod. Draco grins. I hold out the orb I took from Oliver Wood. Draco grabs it, mounts the Firebolt, and takes off.

Remus seems to be done with Potter who is wincing and opening his eyes.

"Merlin," he grunts. "I thought I broke my back." He struggles a bit and sits up. "I was getting ready to take a dose of the Virgo Curato, but I didn't want to be caught out here asleep."

"Do you think you can get up?" I ask.

Remus is searching in his pockets and pulls out a vial. I recognize Hermione's neat printing on the label.

"This is Revitalizing potion," says Remus. "It can't hurt and might help with the pain."

'Take it, Potter," I instruct.

He complies. We give it a minute to work and he gets to his feet. He starts to look around.

"I've lost my broom, somewhere," he says, grimacing.

No point in mincing words.

"We thought you were badly injured," I explain. "Draco took it and the orb we retrieved from Oliver Wood. He has gone to join the flyers."

Potter responds with a variety of colorful curses, including some that make patently untrue references about Draco's parents, neither of which is a nanny goat. Under the circumstances, I am willing to let it go unchallenged.

"You're on your feet and you have a wand," says Remus, sternly. "Welcome to the ground troops."

Potter runs his hand through his hair and pushes his spectacles back up his nose.

"Let's go," he says.

* * *

The concentration of Death Eaters is increasing the closer we get to the Dark Lord. We have passed seven fallen Order members along the way, including Rolanda Hooch. She was flying with Wood and they must have been hit at the same time. There is no time to think about the loss. I retrieve her orb and we are fighting our way towards the Dark Lord.

The Death Eaters we are dealing with now are experienced fighters, many from the first war. Some are inner circle. Mulciber is now a lump on the ground, done in by Shacklebolt. Avery looked surprisingly peaceful when Remus broke his neck. Potter vomited after hexing a slit in Jugson's carotid artery. I believe the spray of blood was a bit more than he could take.

He should not feel badly after rolling out of the way of the Avada Kedavra Jugson threw at him.

I do not feel badly about helping Alecto Carrow join his sister.

We have taken to casting quick healing spells on each other. Remus is difficult to hurt, given his werewolf's constitution. Potter took a burn on his back from Mulciber before Shacklebolt took the bastard down. Potter repaired the slice MacNair put in my leg, just before he ran off to get closer to the Dark Lord.

None of us could save Mad-Eye Moody after his heart exploded in his chest. There are some things not even the Virgo Curato can heal, even if Hermione or I had cared about him enough for it to work for him.

I can see Lucius ahead of us. He is dueling with Gibbon, who is between Lucius and the Dark Lord.

Right now, the Dark Lord is encased in a blue containment field from a Happy-Sleepy orb. Take a deep breath and hold it to the mental count of three, I mentally instruct him. You will feel so much more relaxed.

In between fighting Death Eaters, I hear a shout from Bill. He reports that Bellatrix was hit with an orb and has been unable to cast any spells since. I cannot even begin to describe my elation at the thought of it. I am feeling re-energized and determined to reach Lucius and join the fight against my former Master and his closest minions.

I spot Rabastan and send a blasting curse his way. That gets his attention and he shouts behind him.

Good. The Dark Lord and the members of the inner circle will know that I am here. Lucius hears him and moves to the side so that he can see me from his peripheral vision. That is all we need.

We have practiced this so many times; I could perform the movements from muscle memory.

Rodolphus and Rabastan step away from the Dark Lord and focus their aim on Lucius. I cover with a blasting curse as Lucius rolls away. Rabastan turns towards me as Rodolphus continues to fire at Lucius.

Lucius fires cover for me with a green flame spell that sends Rabastan and Rudophus diving to avoid it. As they dive, I transfigure the ground beneath their feet to ice.

They slide across the frozen ground and Lucius uses _Expelliarmus_. Rabastan holds onto his wand, but Rodolphus loses his. Lucius grabs the wand in midair as Rodolphus struggles to get to his feet.

I aim at Rabastan, who is still off balance. I cast a severing curse at his hand, but miss when he rolls over. It strikes Rodolphus who is still flailing on the ice. It takes a chunk out of his left buttock and he howls in agony.

Selwyn rushes forward to come to their aid. As he does, I hear the whistle of a BludgeSucker. It whizzes past an assortment of blasting curses being cast from the Death Eaters surrounding the Dark Lord. It catches Selwyn in the back of the neck and I hear vertebrae snap. He falls to the ground with his head at an unnatural angle.

At the same time, another blue flash and the Dark Lord is surrounded by a blue containment field. Pettigrew casts an Eradico and the containment field vanishes.

I hope Hermione is seeing all of this at a safe distance.

Lucius finishes off Rabastan with the curse we researched earlier this year that causes a brain aneurysm.

Rodolphus is unconscious and in a Body Bind. I hear what sounds like drunken screaming from Bellatrix, who is with the Dark Lord.

Our former Master is casting at us, now. He just hurled an Avada Kedavra, which hit one of the Death Eaters behind me when I rolled to the side. Lucius is casting stunners at Yaxley and Pettigrew. I come up on one knee and send a slicing hex at Voldemort, striking his wand arm.

I hear cheers around me.

Another flyer passes overhead and I hear the crack of an orb striking the ground in front of the Dark Lord. The containment field forms around him again.

Lucius and I are alternating sending hexes at the Death Eaters who are attempting to surround Voldemort. They are so busy trying to defend him that they have not looked to see if he is able to get out of the field. The Dark Lord casts _Eradico_ and it releases a weak yellow beam. He has to try a second time before it succeeds.

I can see the fury on his face and the anger in his red eyes as he feels the effects of Happy-Sleepy. Lucius and I are holding our own against the seven Death Eaters who have formed a line in front of the Dark Lord. We are alternating casting defensive and offensive spells in a rhythm built during countless drills.

I hear Potter and Shacklebolt's voices. They have realized what we are doing and are adding more offensive spells to the mix. That is overwhelming the Death Eaters who are the last line of defense. They are concentrating on defensive shields.

We cannot quite break through. The field has dropped from around the Dark Lord. Where are the flyers? We need another orb. It has to come from the sky, because I cannot get around the Death Eaters.

Voldemort joins his defenders in casting hexes at us.

Where are they? Have they run out of orbs?

I can see Mike off to the side and he throws a lightning hex at the Death Eaters, which startles them and breaks the line. One of them shoots a hex at Mike and he falls.

I see Potter splitting off and running towards the edge of the field. He is shouting and turns, running towards the Dark Lord. Shacklebolt and I fire cover for him as he does a spin and the orb strikes the Dark Lord in the face.

There is cheering and I see Lucius running off in the same manner. Potter is standing with me and firing at the remaining Death Eaters. I can see Lucius intercepting someone on the field.

Sweet Merlin, it's Hermione. She's running towards him with an orb in her outstretched hand.

Potter and Shacklebolt are firing nonstop at the Death Eaters. We have two of them down and the rest are pinned and only able to send up defensive shields. Mike is running towards us, his left arm bloody. He is firing at the Death Eaters and joining our line. Limnoreia is limping, but firing stunners.

I see Lucius running back towards us, followed by Hermione.

I pull the orb from my pocket and hand it to Shacklebolt. I break from the line and run towards Hermione.

Tonks is behind her and Molly following right after. They are casting _Protego_, shielding Hermione in her run. Hermione sends a stunner at a Death Eater who has broken from the group and is firing at the women.

She is running as fast as she can and holds out an orb. As soon as she is in reach, I grab the orb with my wand hand and push her down with the other.

Too late. Whatever Pettigrew cast, it hit her. I pull Hermione with me as I roll. Tonks sends a blasting curse at Pettigrew. He yelps and runs.

Hermione is limp and unconscious.

No. No. No.

She's alive.

I fumble in the pocket of Hermione's vest and find orbs and vials. I summon the Virgo Curato and spell it directly into her stomach.

Molly is beside me and Tonks is standing over us and firing protective spells.

"We'll take care of her," shouts Molly.

"Help me get the waistcoat off of her," I ask, sounding panicked even to my own ear. "We need the orbs."

I hold Hermione up and Molly pulls the waistcoat off and out from under her. She does an Enlargement charm and I grab it and pull it on over my dueling garb.

Orange. Whatever possessed her to make this vest orange? I shall look like one of Hagrid's pumpkins running about on skinny legs.

I quickly assess the field. There are fallen Death Eaters all around us and Order members are still coming. There are a few Death Eaters engaged further back on the field, but they are outnumbered. The group with the Dark Lord numbers seven. That may be all that is left of his best fighters.

We are clearly winning. I take one last look at Hermione, who appears to have passed into the healing sleep of the Virgo Curato. Molly is kneeling beside her, casting defensive charms at anyone who might come near.

I turn and run back towards the bonfire. One more of the Death Eaters protecting Voldemort has fallen. Another is on his knees. That leaves five standing.

The Dark Lord is surrounded by a shield. His wand arm is injured from the Slicer that I sent at him, so he has transferred his wand to his other hand. He is attempting to take down the field, but his casting is too weak.

We continue to fire on his defenders. I take out an orb and hand it to Lucius. He smiles at me. An absolutely cold-blooded and evil smile.

I hear screeching behind me. Molly is waving her wand over the unconscious body of a Death Eater.

If future generations claim that the cry of the Banshee was heard on the hill at Malfoy Manor the night of the battle, I will know how the story began.

The defenders are badly outnumbered. Shacklebolt and Mike split off two of them and are dueling. Bill and Arthur join them.

Potter has focused on Pettigrew. Remus joins him and the two have the rat pinned down.

Arthur and Limnoreia join us as Lucius and I focus on Rawley and Rookwood.

The instant the blue shielding disappears; Lucius steps forward and hurls the orb. It strikes the Dark Lord in the chest.

The field goes up and the Dark Lord is weaving on his feet. He raises his wand. The movements are sluggish. He wipes his face with his hand and attempts to take down the shield.

His wand sputters out a few yellow sparkles.

Tom Riddle weaves again and drops to his knees.

The wand rolls from between his limp fingers.

Lord Voldemort falls face down on the ground.

Bellatrix Lestrange, crawls beside him and tries to claw her way into the field.

There are cheers coming from all around us.

An assortment of hexes rain down from above on the five Death Eaters who are still fighting.

A stunner accidentally hits Shacklebolt, who slumps unconscious to the ground.

Outnumbered three and four to one, the remaining Death Eaters fall one at a time.

When the blue containment field drops, I walk over to Voldemort, casually stunning Bellatrix and placing her in a body bind.

I look down at his ghastly face, the pasty flaking skin, and the skeletal body.

I raise my arm and cast the fireworks charm.

The cheering grows louder.

Flyers are landing. Tonks says something to Arthur and then Portkeys away. Her role calls for notifying the Aurors that they are needed here.

I realize that Potter is standing next to me. I look down at the young man I have despised for so many years. I am grinning like a fool and he does the same. The next thing I know, he has thrown his arms around me and is hugging me like I am his best friend. I respond by patting him reluctantly on the back. This will not do.

From amidst the cheering, I hear Draco's distinctive voice and turn. He is walking towards us, dragging Potter's broom behind him. Lucius turns and walks towards him.

The men meet in the middle.

"Son," says Lucius, a world of emotion in his voice.

"Dad," replies Draco, sounding very much like a man.

Lucius and Draco are caught up in an embrace that puts smiles on the faces around us.

I turn to Remus.

"Can you take charge of Tom Riddle?" I ask, thoroughly enjoying calling the erstwhile Lord Voldemort by his given name in his presence. "Lucius, Draco, and I need to get Narcissa."

"Of course," says Remus. "The Aurors should be here any minute now."

"I'll help," says Arthur.

I run to Hermione to check her. Molly is arranging her limbs so that she can be hovered safely.

"The Virgo Curato has made her sleep," says Molly. "I'll get her back to the medical station and Ellen can check her. You go back to what you need to do."

"Thank you," I reply, relieved to see Hermione sleeping peacefully.

I can see Jean and Mark running towards us. Ron, Charlie, and the twins are close behind. I see Blaise following. Longbottom is bringing up the rear.

I give Hermione a last look as Molly walks off, Hermione floating ahead of her.

I run over to Lucius and Draco and pat both of them on the shoulder. Bill and Potter join us. Jean exclaims over Mike's injuries and he brushes it off as minor. The rest of the Weasleys join us.

Roger and Limnoreia are coming towards us from across the field, along with a dozen other Order members.

I look at Blaise.

"Pucey?"

Blaise shakes his head. My heart sinks.

Draco looks shaken.

"We need to get to the Manor and free Madam Malfoy," says Potter, refocusing the group on our mission.

"Only Draco, Severus, and myself can approach the Manor through the rose garden," says Lucius. "It is the fastest route. The rest of you must go through the front door or the windows."

"I will fly to the house and take down any wards that may have been set by Madam Malfoy's guards," says Roger.

"Excellent," says Draco to his teacher. "But don't take them down until after we're inside. Otherwise, it will tip off the guards."

"I'll be flying overhead watching," says Roger. "My eyesight and night vision as the Thunderbird are phenomenal."

"We have been in communication with the house-elves and Pudding and Dobby were supposed to try and hide Narcissa somewhere in the elves quarters," I explain. "She may be safe and simply waiting for us to arrive to reveal herself."

Lucius is shaking his head and speaks to the group. "Ima LeDrox is her guard tonight. She is the Dark Lord's deadliest assassin. Be very careful. She is a fanatical believer in the Dark Lord's cause and a very powerful witch. Think of Bellatrix, only sane and far more intelligent."

That has several pale-skinned Weasleys turning even paler than usual.

"Dolohov and Rutherford were sent to secure the Manor when the battle started," I report. "If they went through the rose garden, they will have been disposed of. If not, we may be facing them, too."

"Be ready for anything," says Jean, holding up two battle-worn Death Eater robes that she just confiscated from Rookwood and Rawley.

"We will need to go ahead of the rest of you," says Lucius, pulling on a robe. "If LeDrox is controlling the Manor, we will need to deal with her in order to get my wife out safely. It may involve considerable amounts of lying, which I am very, very good at. But, it will not be credible if Order members start showing up in quantity. Please be careful."

I take out vials of the Virgo Curato out of Hermione's waistcoat and pocket them. I hand a vial of Restorative potion to Draco who eagerly uncaps it and drinks.

"I feel better all ready," he declares. "I've been running on adrenalin for the last few hours."

George and Fred hold out their brooms to Lucius and me.

"It is very generous of you to offer," says Lucius, looking oddly humbled. "We daren't arrive on brooms and the wards might detect them. It would alert LeDrox that something is afoot."

"Thank you," I add.

Draco holds out Potter's broom to return it.

"Thanks for the loan," says Draco, smiling. "It flies almost as well as my Harley. Maybe I could return the favor sometime."

Potter rolls his eyes and accepts the broom back.

"Meanwhile, if all of you could put on a suitable light show so anyone who is watching from the Manor will think that fighting is still going on here, we would appreciate it." I remark as I hand over Hermione's waistcoat to Jean.

"We'll be happy to, Professor," replies Fred, looking ridiculously cheerful. Grabbing George by the shoulder, they move closer to the bonfire and start pulling various packets and containers out of their robes.

Mike hands each of us a short-distance Portkey.

Draco, Lucius, and I look at each other. It is time to get Narcissa.

* * *

We are at the bottom of the hill when I give Lucius and Draco their vials of the Virgo Curato. I let them know that there are three more vials in the pocket of what was once Rawley's Death Eater robe.

"How do you know that this is actually the Virgo Curato?" asks Lucius.

"Your knowledge of potions is positively abysmal," I reply with in my best long-suffering tone. "I know it is the Virgo Curato, because I was there when it was made."

"You watched?" asks Lucius, sounding appalled.

Draco snorts and I resist the temptation to whack him.

"I participated," I reply, sarcastically.

That seems to have silenced Lucius for the moment.

"Are you ready to Portkey?" I ask.

"Let's aim for the spot just before where the path comes into view through the solarium," suggests Draco.

"By the oak tree?" I ask.

"That would be ideal," says Lucius, still sounding rather gobsmacked.

I look back and see that the Weasley twins have set up a convincing light show.

* * *

In an instant, we are standing behind the oak tree, looking at the Manor. It is alarmingly dark. None of us can see a light on anywhere, which is giving me a bad feeling.

"We will go through the rose garden and into the solarium," directs Lucius quietly.

We are moving quickly down the path towards the house.

"Who?" asks Lucius.

"Who what?" I reply.

"Who is she?" asks Lucius, sounding most curious.

I decide to tell him.

"Hermione Granger."

It is silent, except for the sound of us moving towards the rose garden.

"I realize my knowledge of potions is abysmal, but I have always understood that love is involved in the creation of the Virgo Curato," says Lucius, trying to sound conversational.

"Congratulations. Correct answer. Five points to Slytherin."

We arrive at the edge of the rose garden and begin to skulk our way through. We find Rutherford, first. He seems to be growing a rosebush or a rosebush is growing him. We cannot tell exactly how he died, because the moon is not bright enough and we do not have time.

I made a promise to myself when I learned that Rutherford had given his daughter to Voldemort for MacNair to rape in a Dark Magic ceremony. I promised that if I had anything to do with it, Rutherford would die screaming.

From the expression frozen on his face, I would hazard a guess that Rutherford screamed a lot.

Draco points to a form over by the fountain. That appears to be the Death Eater formerly known as Antonin Dolohov.

He is the one who gave Hermione that scar from the battle at the Ministry of Magic.

I hope he died screaming, too.

We move carefully down the path to the door of the solarium I stand to one side of the door and Lucius takes the other. He spells the door open and then casts a detection spell to see if anyone is inside. It indicates that no one is in the room.

Lucius slides in carefully and scans the room. He signals and I come in, alert and ready. Draco slips in after me. We move slowly and quietly across the room. We will have to work our way up to the second floor master suite.

None of us see her until it is too late.

We do not realize that she is here until LeDrox is behind Draco with her arm around his neck and her wand to his throat. I did not know anyone could move so silently.

"Would you care to tell me what is going on?" asks Ima, her voice soft and deadly.

"We came to get you and Narcissa," I reply, being careful not to move.

"The Dark Lord has fallen," says Lucius, urgently.

"Impossible," spits Ima.

"Magic of a sort I have never seen before," says Lucius hurriedly. "That giant bird shattered the wards and the Order flooded in. Dumbledore used what looked like an ancient marble statue. Our Lord's true self was sucked inside it."

"And you knew _nothing_ about this?" asks Ima, glaring at me accusingly.

"The Order has never trusted me," I reply, scathingly. "I was taken completely by surprise."

"How did they know that the Dark Lord would be here, tonight?" she asks, jabbing her wand deeper into Draco's neck.

"Dumbledore is a Legilimens," I reply, as convincingly as I can.

"And you are an Occlumens," says Ima, edging back and pulling Draco with her.

"I am an Occlumens who has been Obliviated and drugged by both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore," I reply, angrily. "I have missing time, because of both of them. Dumbledore could have pulled information out of my head and I would never know it."

"Why didn't you tell the Dark Lord about what Dumbledore was doing?" she asks, coolly, her eyes shifting back and forth between Lucius and me.

"Because I preferred to stay alive," I explain, angrily. "The Dark Lord had a viable plan for his own future. I wanted to be a part of it. He promised that we could do away with Dumbledore once he retired. I wanted vengeance for the way Dumbledore has used me."

"You used _me_," she hisses.

"Never," I state emphatically, willing her to believe. "Why do you think I am here instead of cutting and running?"

"To help the Malfoys," she says, eyes blazing.

"Where is Narcissa?" demands Lucius.

"She is secured," says Ima. "I saw the spell flash from the hill and made sure she was safe. Then, we heard screaming from the rose garden. That is Rutherford out there."

"When the wards fell, the Manor's defenses were triggered," Draco squeaks out. "The roses are part of them. They will attack anyone except family."

"Then, why didn't they attack Severus?" asks Ima suspiciously.

"The roses recognize me as part of the family," I tell her. "Lucius and I did a blood ceremony years ago to establish our kinship."

"And the house-elves' attempt to Apparate away with Narcissa?" she asks, sarcastically. "Was that part of your rescue plan?"

"It is also part of the Manor's defenses. The house-elves are directed to hide her if the Manor's wards are breeched. We came back to get you and Narcissa," insists Lucius. "We have family Portkeys that will take us to France and we can go into hiding from there. I have money and resources hidden that we can use. Severus insists that you must come with us. Now, let go of my son and let me get my wife before the Order gets here and we all end up in Azkaban."

"I don't believe any of you," says Ima, sneering. Her arm twitches and she is getting ready to cast. Draco closes his eyes.

Ima screams as the peregrine falcon rakes her arm with its claws and flaps its wings in her face. The falcon screeches and flies away. Her arms suddenly empty; Ima loses her balance and falls backwards. The wicker chair behind her tips over and she rolls to her knees.

Lucius and I have her at wandpoint

"So, I'm supposed to trust you?" she spits out, her eyes blazing with fury.

Draco lands on the floor beside me and returns to human form.

"Well done, son," says Lucius, not taking his eyes off of Ima.

Draco waves his wand and the candles in the sconces and on the tables light. He gasps.

There in the corner is Narcissa. She is sitting on one of the wicker chairs in a body bind, her eyes wide with fear. Her mouth is moving, but we can hear nothing. She has been Silencioed. At her feet is the crumpled body of a house-elf.

Pudding.

"How dare you?" hisses Lucius.

"I was following our Master's orders," shouts Ima, enraged, "which is far more than I can say for you!"

Her hand flies up and a bolt of light strikes me in the shoulder, spinning me around. I catch myself on the settee before I fall, pain shooting down my arm where I am cut.

Merlin help us. That was wandless Thought Magic. Even Voldemort could not attack with Thought Magic. No wonder the Dark Lord called LeDrox his perfect assassin.

Lucius casts a stunner, which bounces off of a silently cast shield.

Ima's wand is moving so fast, I cannot discern what she is casting.

"Sectumsempra!" shouts Lucius.

Ima counters silently and sends a blasting curse at him.

While they are going at each other, I cast a shield and move carefully around them. Draco is doing the same and we both dash towards Narcissa, intending to free her.

A blast of blue light strikes at Draco and dissipates against his protective shield. The concussion throws Draco off of his feet.

I reach Narcissa and _Finite_ the body bind.

"Traitor!" screams Ima and the glass walls of the solarium explode, spraying glass all around us. I throw myself over Narcissa to protect her face and feel the glass slicing into my back and legs. I lose my grip and slide to the floor.

There is a flash of lightning and a crashing of thunder from above us.

Roger is here.

Lucius is hurling curse after hex at Ima and she is countering them without a word. Draco throws a blasting curse at her, which does not break through her shields, but rebounds and throws the three of them back. They scramble to regain their balance.

I try to rise, but my legs are not cooperating and my head is fuzzy.

I can hear shouting coming from the hallway outside of the solarium. The Order members are coming, drawn by the noise. We just need to hang on.

Ima is casting silent hexes at the doorway while she regains her footing. Her hair has fallen loose and her robes whirl around her as she moves as smoothly as a dancer. A warrior goddess could not be more beautiful as she sends silent beams of light at the interlopers.

Ronald Weasley dives in first, below the hexes. Jean follows, casting ward-level shields in front of her. Limnoreia and Potter are at the door, firing cover hexes.

Ima's eyes narrow and her teeth are bared as a green light issues from her wand and strikes Weasley in the chest. He lies still.

Shacklebolt and someone in an Auror's uniform enter through the window. Another green light and they fall.

Jean fires a narrow slicing hex that slides between Lucius and Ima, striking her wand arm.

Ima screams with rage and strikes back with a blasting curse that knocks them both back. She whirls and aims at Narcissa. A red light strikes.

From my place on the slippery floor, I can see blood spreading through the silk across her distending abdomen . There is horrifyingly rank smell and a gush of fluid.

_Entrail Expelling Curse._

My hand slips on the floor, but I pull myself up as I try desperately to get the vial from my pocket. Narcissa slides onto the floor beside me, her eyes wide and unseeing and her mouth opened in a silent scream of agony. I grasp her hand and force the vial into her palm, pushing her fingers closed. Struggling to my knees and doing my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my arm, sharp pain in my back, and the darkening edges of my vision, I move my wand and mumble the words that will spell the potion directly into her blood stream.

Another blast of light. The words die on my lips.

I hear screaming behind me and screaming around me. My face, my neck is on fire.

A green light behind me.

Agony.

I am screaming.

Falling. Falling.

Arms. Hands.

Something at my lips.

"Drink. C'mon Snape. You can do it."

Jean's voice.

I try.

Falling.

Dark.

* * *

Author's notes

I try to respond to all of the reviews. For a few days, this website had the review notification system go down. That means that I had to work off the review list, rather than the individual notices. If you weren't logged in at the time you reviewed, I wasn't able to respond. With so many reviews and a week to respond in, I just couldn't get it all done.

Even if I didn't reach you, I appreciated all of the words of encouragement and your comments about the story.

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	103. Chapter 103

No royalty checks coming my way for anything here.

Thank you to Julia, who has recovered from the plague along with her family. Her suggestions for each chapter make this story better. My appreciation to Jocemum, who looked over all of the medical aspects of this chapter to make sure I didn't kill anyone I didn't intend to.

Katyes has translated 91 chapters of Looking for Magic into German. I find that amazing.

* * *

Date: Indeterminate  
Severus

I open my eyes and consider turning my head.

If I was not so utterly exhausted, I would probably do so. However, it is still dark and I am sure that I do not have to rise for at least a few more hours. My bed, with its well-worn mattress, is comfortable and soft. The quilt is warm and my pillow feels so good.

I close my eyes.

The sound of swishing skirts attracts my attention. I open my eyes and try to focus enough to turn my head. Fortunately, I do not have to. She comes into view and sits on the side of my bed.

"Good morning, Severus," she says, brushing my hair back.

I struggle to speak and find that I can barely squeak out a single word.

"Mum."

"It's all right, son," she says, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

There are no words for how happy it makes me to see her. Somehow, it seems years since I have spoken to Mum. There is such affection in her gentle voice and in the way she touches me.

It occurs to me that there is something out of place about all of this. She looks so young, younger than I am now. Mum shouldn't be here. If I did not feel so exhausted and tranquil, I believe I would be upset. Instead, I am only confused. So, I ask.

"Dead?"

"No," she says, her eyes twinkling. "I presume that you are asking if you are dead and not if I am dead. You are definitely not dead."

"How?" I croak.

Mum conjures a glass of water and places a straw in it. She holds the glass and the straw so that I can sip from it. The water feels so good and cool against my parched throat.

"You were badly hurt," says Mum, as I swallow. "Fortunately, your friend managed to get a healing potion into you. You are in the deepest sleep possible. That's why it is possible for me to be here and talk to you. The barriers between the places where we are can be very thin when you are so deeply asleep."

"Miss you," I whisper.

"I miss you, too," she says, stroking my hair. "I'm not far away, but we're really not supposed to interfere in the lives of the ones we have to leave behind. I still get to watch over you and I know how you are getting on. I hear you when you talk to me and I try to answer, but my answers come in your dreams and you can't remember those dreams at a conscious level."

"Made mistakes," I confess.

"You did and so did I," says Mum, reassuringly. "Every living person makes mistakes. Some are small and some are big. The important thing is how you deal with the mistakes when you realize you have made them. I am very proud of how you chose to deal with your mistakes. You've done your very best to make things right."

"Sorry."

"It is time to stop worrying about that," she says, sympathetically. "You're thinking about what happened between your father and me. You were twelve years old and couldn't have done anything to prevent it. If you had been there at the time, your father would have hurt you, too. I am grateful that you were tucked away safely at Hogwarts."

Mum reaches over and pulls the quilt back over my shoulder.

"You need to go back to sleep, now. I just want you to know that I really like Hermione. She's very good for you and I hope that you'll be happy together. Besides, I rather like her parents."

Mum tucks me in, the way she used to. She gives me a goodnight kiss on the forehead.

"Love you, Mum."

"I love you, too, Severus," she says, patting me on the shoulder.

I sigh contentedly and go back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione  
June 23rd, 1999

I'd stretch my arms, but my shoulder is kind of achy and I think that might hurt. I settle for stretching my legs, instead.

"Mediwizard Prewitt?" calls Neville. "I think she's waking up."

I open my eyes. Neville's here. He's sitting in a chair beside the bed. I blink a few times and realize my eyes are kind of crusty. Ick.

"Neville?" I ask, though a yawn.

"Hey, Hermione," he says, with an encouraging grin. "How are you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Tired and kind of achy," I reply. "Like I've been beaten up."

A short man with spectacles and brown hair comes into view. He's the one that Ellen was working with at the battle site.

It all comes back to me in a rush. The battle. Severus. I was hurt.

I look up anxiously and am about to start asking when Neville starts answering.

"We won, Hermione," he says, proudly. "He Who… No. I'm not going to say that, anymore. Voldemort. Voldemort is Happy-Sleepied in his cell down in the cellar. Mike Lamb and Mark Smith are down there with a bunch of Aurors and some Ministry people."

"Mr. Longbottom can give you the complete update after my examination," instructs the Mediwizard.

"What about Professor Snape and the others?" I ask, ignoring Mr. Prewitt.

"Shoo," says the Healer, waving Neville off and summoning screens for around the bed.

Neville calls through the fabric barrier.

"He's at St. Mungo's. That's where the ones who were hurt the worst were sent. I'll tell you about the others when the Mediwizard is done."

"Wait!" I call, leaning around Mr. Prewitt. He snorts and runs a series of diagnostic charms. Couldn't he wait until I found out how badly Severus was hurt? I hope he was given the Virgo Curato.

I guess I'm not going to get more answers until he finishes. I huff impatiently. I have to find out what happened. I have to see Severus.

"I remember being hit by a curse," I muse, hoping he can fill me in.

"You were struck by a bone shattering curse," says the Mediwizard, in a rather businesslike tone. "Fortunately, it struck a glancing blow to your shoulder. If it had hit you square on, it would have shattered every bone in your chest and spinal column. Not even the Virgo Curato could have saved you, then."

No wonder Severus pushed me down. He must have realized what was being cast and kept me from being struck full on.

A series of runes, numbers, and sigils appear above me.

"You've made excellent progress. A few days of good food and bed rest and you should be right as rain," he decrees. "It's been amazing watching the Virgo Curato at work."

"I have to go to St. Mungo's," I announce in response.

"I have your wand and your clothes," responds Prewitt, sounding exceedingly bossy. "You are going nowhere. I will notify the Weasleys that they may fetch you and take you home and put you to bed straight away."

I smile sweetly and plan Mediwizard Prewitt's demise. I need only wait for my wand and my clothes to be returned to me. Then, I shall go directly to St. Mungo's.

"There is no need to notify the Weasleys," says Chester Sommersby, standing on the other side of the screen. I have just silver messaged them that Hermione is awake. I am sure they will have someone here shortly."

I'm more surprised that none of them are here, now. I'm grateful that Neville was here when I woke up, but I really would have expected Molly.

The screens are put back and I see Mr. Sommersby and Neville summoning chairs. I look around the magically enlarged parlor in Mr. Sommersby's house. There are two rows of beds, all of them empty. Mediwizard Prewitt is taking them down. I guess I'm the last patient left.

Charlie comes into the room and walks towards us.

I have the most horrible feeling in my stomach. Charlie looks awful, like he's been through an emotional wringer.

"Is Molly all right?" I ask, clutching at the blanket.

"Molly is fine," replies Sommersby, looking terribly sad. "She is back at the Burrow with the rest of the family."

Charlie is standing behind Neville, his hands gripping the back of the chair. I can tell that he's exhausted.

"It's Ron," says Neville, choked with emotion.

"The Aurors stormed the Manor," says Charlie, quiet with grief. "He died in the line of duty."

I raise my hand to my face. It's wet. I think I've been crying since Charlie walked into the door. I knew that someone was dead. I knew it.

"In the line of duty?" I choke out.

"It was a Death Eater called Ima LeDrox," says Sommersby, tiredly. "She was Voldemort's assassin. I've been told that she was able to perform a nonverbal Avada Kedavra. I didn't even know that was possible."

"Harry was there," continues Charlie. "The Aurors decided that once Snape and the Malfoys were inside that they should be the ones to storm the building. They saw that a fight was going on in the solarium. Ron was one of the first ones in. He was hit and went down. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Leta Burns fell right after that. None of them were prepared for a nonverbal Avada Kedavra. Lucius Malfoy hit LeDrox with an Avada Kedavra and it was over."

"Except that LeDrox nailed Snape with a curse that nobody seems to recognize," adds Neville. "And Narcissa Malfoy was hit with the Entrail Expelling Curse."

"Professor Snape is recovering," says Sommersby, "as is Madam Malfoy. Fortunately, there was a very powerful healing draught available to them."

It's like the Dementors are back.

I can't do anything except sob as they list everyone who died.

* * *

Severus

"Hello, Professor."

That voice is altogether too familiar from seven years of teaching and serving as his Head of House.

"Mr. Pucey?" I respond.

I am in my bed with the well-worn mattress and the quilt tucked over my shoulders. It is warm and comfortable. I can see Mr. Pucey, who is sitting on a chair next to my bed. Were I not so tired, I would lift my head from the pillow. Why is he here in my bedroom?

"Under the circumstances," he replies, smiling, "I'd like it very much if you called me by my first name."

"That would be most improper," I reply, frowning. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Just visiting," says Pucey, pushing back his sandy hair. "I can't stay long and you need your rest. I just wanted to thank you for all your help. If it hadn't been for you, I probably would have been fighting on the other side."

It occurs to me that we have been in a battle. I must be recovering from an injury.

"I am pleased that you came to me and trusted me enough to let me help with your sister's situation," I reply.

"I'll always be grateful to you for helping her get out of the country," says Pucey, nodding. "She's safe in Canada. With Voldemort out of the picture, she'll be able to come home."

"Is he out of the picture?" I ask, confused.

"We defeated him," says Pucey, proudly. "Shacklebolt says that he was there when Voldemort went down. The Happy-Sleepy potion worked."

"That is a great relief," I reply. "We shall be free, now."

"We are free, sir," says Pucey, rising from his chair. "I have to go and you need your sleep. I'm really happy that you're going to be all right."

"Am I?" I ask.

"Madam Snape said so when we talked," he replies. "I'm sure she would know."

"Yes," I reply, confused again. Madam Snape?

"I'll leave you in peace, sir," says Pucey, moving towards the door.

"Adrian?" I begin. "I am pleased that you are well."

"I've never been better," Adrian replies, beaming. "Sleep well, Severus."

I would sneer at him for taking the liberty, but am too tired. I close my eyes.

* * *

Hermione

I've got my wand and my clothes back. My photographer's waistcoat isn't here and no one seems to know what happened to it.

I feel wrung out. I guess crying like that will do it to you.

The list of casualties is smaller than it could have been, but so much bigger than I can stand. Ron. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mad-Eye Moody. Madam Hooch. Oliver Wood. Adrian Pucey. Six people I know. Eleven more that I don't. Order members who weren't experienced fighters, but who took on the most dangerous criminals in wizarding Britain. If we hadn't outnumbered them almost two to one, we might not have won.

I have to be grateful that Severus is alive. Harry and Draco came through with minor injuries. The rest of the Weasleys and everyone else will be all right, too.

Except that nothing will ever be the same without Ron.

You were supposed to watch your arse, Flyboy. You weren't supposed to…

Just thinking of our last conversation is enough to make my eyes water and my chest feel tight.

I'll think about it later. Right now, I have to go to St. Mungo's. I'm going to focus on the living. Then, I have to go to the Burrow and face Ron's family.

"I strongly disapprove of you taking her to St.Mungo's." The Mediwizard is lecturing Charlie. "If you're going to go anyway, keep it short and then take her home and get her back into bed. I will come by in two hours."

Prewitt turns and starts lecturing me.

"If you are not there and in bed, I will ask Healer Smith to admit you to St. Mungo's where you will grace one of our ward beds for the next twenty-four hours. You may have healed from your injury, but your resources are depleted and you need food and rest."

"I'll make sure she doesn't stay long," says Charlie. "If I can wrangle a dragon, I can manage Hermione."

I would debate that point with him, but it would get in the way of getting where I need to go. I'll promise anything if it will get me to St. Mungo's to see Severus and check on Draco.

"I'll rest better once I've had a chance to make sure that my friends are all right," I reply, sounding defeated.

"See that you do," he says, with a snort.

Neville offers me his arm and I accept. Charlie follows right behind us. We walk down the path to a spot beyond the wards. Neville does a side-along with me in tow and Charlie follows.

I am winded by the time we reach the Curse Reversal Unit. Charlie is asking the Helpwitch where to find Severus. She asks us to wait and sends a paper airplane across the reception area. It turns left and disappears down the hallway.

A minute later, Ellen sweeps into the reception room in her lime green robes.

"How is he?" I ask, as soon as she is in earshot.

"Sound asleep," she replies, waving for us to follow her back down the hallway. "Which is exactly what you should be doing right now."

We are ushered into what looks like a meeting room of some sort. Ellen orders me into a chair and asks a house-elf to bring up some food.

"I'm not hungry," I protest, as a plate of ham with scrambled eggs and a glass of milk appear on the table in front of me.

"You were hit in the shoulder with a bone shattering curse," says Ellen. "You healed from what should have been a permanently disabling condition because of the Virgo Curato. Even though we've been spelling nutritional potions directly into your stomach, you need to replace the protein, vitamins and minerals your body used to rebuild."

Two more plates appear and Neville and Charlie sit down to eat.

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling ashamed. "I was in such a hurry that I didn't think that you two hadn't eaten."

"I've eaten," says Charlie around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"SohavI," mumbles Neville.

"Men are bottomless pits from the time that they are teenagers," observes Ellen, with a wry look. "Before I take you in to see Severus, I want you to understand what has happened to him."

I put down my fork.

"Keep eating," Ellen orders.

I comply. Reluctantly.

"Severus was hit with a curse I've never seen before," Ellen explains. "No one here at St. Mungo's, St. Bernadette's in Paris, or at St. Hildegard's in Berlin has seen it, either. That means that Ima LeDrox either invented it or found it in some obscure place in Europe."

"But what did it do to him?" I ask, worried.

"This is going to sound worse than it is. It flayed quite a bit of skin off his head," says Ellen, sympathetically.

I drop my fork and consider heaving up what I've eaten. Oh. My. God.

"Don't you dare," orders Ellen. "I'll get you an anti-nausea potion, but you keep that food where it belongs."

Pulling a notepad out of her pocket, Ellen jots something down. The paper folds itself into a paper airplane and the door opens a crack to let it out. I sit quietly and breathe slowly, trying to calm my stomach, which really wants to heave. Neville is watching me nervously. Charlie is just busy eating.

A Mediwitch opens the door and hands the potion to Ellen. She pops it open and hands it to me.

I drink it gratefully.

"I told you that it isn't as bad as it sounds," continues Ellen. "If Jean hadn't been able to get him to swallow the Virgo Curato, we would have been in trouble. We're not sure if the spell would have skinned him alive or taken his head off."

My appetite is gone. Neville has put his fork down and is looking a little green. Charlie keeps on eating.

"Finish your milk," instructs Ellen, patting my hand.

I am more grateful for anti-nausea potion than I have ever been in my life.

"What about Severus?" I ask.

"I'll take you in there as soon as you finish your milk," says Ellen. "His head is bandaged, but that is just to keep dust and any possible contaminants from getting into his skin. All of the damage is healing and the skin is regenerating. It is hard to estimate, but I believe another twenty-four hours or so of sleep and he'll wake up."

"Can I see him?"

"I'll take you," says Ellen, kindly. "I believe Albus is sitting with him, now. We've been keeping familiar people sitting with him just in case he wakes up and to stand guard. We are keeping him in a private room in case any stray Death Eaters show up."

* * *

Severus

I wonder how long I have been asleep. Somehow, it seems that I should not be quite so tired with all of the sleeping I have done.

I turn so that I am lying on my side. That feels better. It is easier to move. I close my eyes and doze.

I hear the legs of the chair next to my bed scraping against the stone floor and open my eyes.

Weasley. Red hair, blue eyes, freckles, and a tall lanky frame. If not for different facial features and small differences in height, one would think that Arthur and Molly produced them with biscuit cutters.

Has my bedroom suddenly become a hub on the floo network? That is the only explanation I can think of for all of the traffic passing through it.

"Hi, Professor," says Ron Weasley, resting his chin on his hand. "I just wanted to let you know that Hermione is okay, now. I spent time with her last night while she was recovering from the bone shattering curse. The Virgo Curato really did the trick."

"You finally looked up the Virgo Curato to find out what it is?" I ask. I would sneer if I had not used up my energy turning over.

"Harry explained it to me," he replies, sheepishly. "At the time, I didn't want to believe that the emerald green meant that you and Hermione really love each other. Anyway, it worked and Hermione's awake."

"Good," I reply. "That means that the necessary healing is completed."

"It wouldn't surprise me if she is on her way to St. Mungo's to see you, right now," says Weasley.

"Is that where I am?" I ask, confused. "I seem to be in my bedroom at Hogwarts."

"Madam Snape says that your mind created a place for you where you feel safe," explains Weasley. Where you're at, right now, this place is real."

"It feels real," I reply, pulling at the quilt to test and make certain it is real.

"It'll be real for as long as you need it," says Weasley, sounding surprisingly wise as he looks around. "No manacles or whips that I can see. I guess I lose that bet.

I manage a snort.

"Of course, Hermione is the managing sort," continues Weasley. "If she doesn't want whips and manacles, there will be no whips and manacles. If she does want them, you'd better look out. She'll have you trussed up like a Christmas goose and liking it."

"One more word out of you and I…"

"Just thought I should warn you that Hermione can be very bossy and likes having her way," says Weasley, before I can finish my threat. "Merlin knows that she managed Harry and me so that we actually finished our educations instead of pulling a runner like Fred and George. It looks like the two of you are serious about each other, so you ought to know that about her.

"I also wanted to call in while you were asleep so that I could thank you for looking after Hermione," says Weasley, straightening up and looking serious. "You helped her when she was going through a rough spot about her folks. I may not understand it, but if you make her happy that's good enough for me."

"That is a surprisingly _liberal _opinion for you to hold," I reply, suspiciously.

"It's amazing how your perspective changes once you get here," he replies, cheerfully. "There's a whole lot of things that I didn't understand before that I do, now."

"Wherever _this_ is," I remark.

"That's a question people have been asking for a long time and aren't going to get an answer to until they arrive," quips Weasley. "I need to go. My Uncles Gideon and Fabian have been showing me the ropes and I promised I wouldn't stay too long."

Gideon and Fabian? I vaguely recall Molly talking about them. There is something significant about them, but I cannot remember what it is.

"Good luck with Hermione, sir," says Weasley. "She can be bossy, but once you accept the fact that she's usually right, it all works out."

"I shall keep that in mind," I reply. My eyes are heavy, so I close them and go back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione

"How is he, Albus?" asks Ellen.

"He turned on his side a little while ago," replies Albus, rising from his chair and offering it to me.

"That's a good sign," says Ellen. "He's been in such a deep sleep, he hasn't been moving. This means his healing is progressing and he is moving into other stages of sleep."

"I am very pleased to see that you are up and about, Hermione," says Albus, graciously.

"She shouldn't be up at all," counters Ellen. "You Gryffindors are a stubborn lot."

Albus smiles and twinkles as if Ellen's comment is an inside joke.

"To say the very least," he replies

I accept the chair and sit down next to Severus.

He looks exactly as Ellen said he would. His head is encased in white bandages. There are holes for his eyes, nose and mouth.

"Why does his head look so large?" I ask.

"I placed a layer of sterilized air between Severus and the bandages," says Ellen. "They don't actually touch his face, which is more comfortable for him and facilitates the healing process."

I can't take my eyes off him.

"How far down was he hurt?"

"The flaying spell affected him to the base of his neck," says Ellen. "He had severe lacerations to his back and the backs of his arms and legs. According to Harry, Severus threw himself across Narcissa Malfoy when the glass windows of the solarium exploded. I was signaled to come to the Manor right after the fighting was over. The Virgo Curato was already working. It literally expelled all of the glass from his body and healed the cuts.

Ellen smiles mischievously.

"I doubt that Severus will appreciate that it was necessary to strip him down in front of the crowd to remove the glass when it started popping out of the wounds. For what it's worth, the women present agreed that he has a very nice arse. The men did not express an opinion."

"He's not going to like that at all," I announce, with dismay.

"Before LeDrox exploded the windows," continues Ellen, "Severus had been hit with an exceptionally strong cutting curse. He had a bone deep wound to his left shoulder. That also healed within minutes. He did lose a lot of blood as a result of so many cuts. We've been sending nutritional potions directly into his stomach to support all of the repair work that is going on inside his body."

"It is just as well that Severus has been sleeping so soundly," says Albus. "He would be in a good deal of pain, if he were awake."

"Is it all right if I take his hand?" I ask. I need to touch him and reassure myself that he's here beneath all of this.

"That's fine," says Ellen. "If you like, Albus and I will leave you with Severus for a little while."

"Thank you," I reply. It is kind of them to give us a few minutes alone.

I draw down the blanket and take his left hand. He is wearing a hospital gown with short sleeves. There are no bandages on his arm, but Ellen did say that the cuts from the glass healed quickly with the Virgo Curato.

Lifting his hand and forearm, I can see the Dark Mark. I cannot deny that I held a dim hope that the Virgo Curato might erase it.

I place both of my hands around his limp hand and draw it to my lips. It's him. I'd know his hand anywhere with the long tapered fingers.

"I love you," I whisper. "We're both alive and we're both going to be well. I wasn't sure we'd have that."

His hand is getting wet from my tears.

"Sleep as long as you need to. I'll be here as much as they'll allow me. Ellen says that others are taking turns so you won't be alone. Even Albus has been sitting with you.

"I just want you to know that I'm here. I want to be here when you wake up. Then, we get to have the rest of our lives. It starts just as soon as you wake up.

"I have to go back to the Burrow, now. I've been ordered to bed. Given how tired I am, it's probably a good idea. You'll feel the same way when you start moving around. Maybe we could get them to leave us alone and we could sleep together.

I smile to myself at how unlikely that is.

"Yeah. Probably not. Molly would have a cow."

I snicker to myself. Molly does have a cow. It's her Patronus.

"I'd kiss you, but it wouldn't be good for your healing skin."

I turn his hand over and kiss his palm, instead.

I'll settle for watching Severus breathing.

* * *

Severus

I think I was just snoring. I woke myself up.

I move my arms a bit and adjust my position. That feels better. I wish I had more energy. I'd get up and move around.

"Snape."

Merciful Merlin, how in the world did he get in here?

"Moody," I snap. "You better have a very good explanation about what you are doing here and how you got into my rooms."

I reach under my pillow to hunt for my wand.

"Threaten somebody who cares," retorts Moody, scratching his grizzled beard. "For what it's worth, your mother let me in."

"My mother?"

I stop for a moment. She was here earlier, as I recall.

"Look, Snape," mutters Moody. "We haven't exactly been friends. As a matter of fact, I've pretty much thought of you as a barnacle attached to Voldemort's arse. I'll give over that you aren't on his side and that you really were a spy.

"I never thanked you for getting me out of that chest when Barty Crouch, Jr. stuck me in there. If you hadn't stopped him, he would have killed young Potter, too. I'm sorry about busting up your hand when you were in Azkaban. That was out of line.

"There. I've apologized. I've said thank you. I'm done," he declares. Moody gets up, brushes off his trousers and walks to the door.

So odd. The awkward gait Moody has sported the entire time I have known him is gone. He has two eyes, now.

This is all very strange.

"Moody," I call across the room.

He pauses in the open doorway and turns back to look at me.

"Thank you for telling me and setting the record straight," I tell him, with no idea why I am doing so.

"That's all I'm doing," he grumbles, "setting the record straight."

"Do not let the door hit you on the way out, then," I retort.

Moody responds with a big crooked grin. He closes the door carefully behind him.

* * *

Hermione

I place Severus' hand back under the blankets and draw them over his shoulders. I smooth the blanket across his chest and rise to leave. I've been through an emotional wringer and exhaustion is really setting in. I want to see Draco before I go home and face what's happening at the Burrow.

"I'll be back in the morning," I say, softly. "Ellen thinks that you'll wake up sometime tomorrow. I want to be here when you do. I love you, Severus."

I make my way to the door and open it. Draco is waiting in the hallway, talking to Albus. I move too fast and stumble. Charlie catches me.

"Time to take you home," he announces. "Mum can fuss over you. It'll make her feel better."

"Not before I do this," says Draco, pulling me into a hug.

I wrap my arms around him and hang on. And hang on. And hang on.

"I'm so glad you're all right," I whisper.

"Minor scratches," says Draco, patting my back. "Mostly because Severus was with me when I was on the ground. He didn't let me do anything stupid."

"You got to fly, after all?" I ask.

"If you two are going to have a chat," says Charlie, not sounding entirely pleased, "we're going to go and sit down in the waiting room before Hermione falls down."

"I do believe that I will leave you young people to your business and go back to sitting with Professor Snape," says Albus, stroking his beard. "He may not waken until tomorrow, but one never knows what an unconscious person experiences. I intend to go back to reading _Sense and Sensibility_ aloud. We were just to the point where Colonel Brandon has developed the most delightful attachment to Marianne Dashwood."

"Reading him Jane Austen may generate a desire to stay unconscious," mutters Draco.

Albus raises an eyebrow.

"The girls made me watch the movie twice," complains Draco. "Hermione likes whatshisname who plays Colonel Brandon. My girlfriend, Anita, likes Hugh Grant. It's a chick flick, sir," adds Draco, sounding put out. "Not a single explosion in the whole movie."

"I am unclear on what a chick flick would be, but I daresay that I would like to go and see a movie, sometime," says Albus. "I have heard that they are like portraits putting on a play."

"A good analogy," replies Draco. "Perhaps I could take you to see one sometime. I've got rather good at getting around the Muggle world."

"And they have explosions, too?" quizzes Albus, sounding interested.

"Big, splashy, noisy explosions," says Draco, nodding. "The best part of the whole movie."

I must be tired enough that I am dreaming this whole conversation.

"I shall take you up on your invitation sometime this summer," says Albus. "After your mother is recovered, perhaps?"

"I'll be in touch, sir," says Draco, respectfully as Albus returns to Severus' room.

Draco is being a true gentleman. I'll admit that I'm leaning on him more than is entirely proper, but I'm rapidly approaching the point that it is better to sit down than to fall flat on my face.

Charlie and Neville are nice enough to sit farther down the row of chairs in the waiting room so that Draco and I can talk without them feeling obliged to grimace. They seem to be talking about explosions and how they would like to see some, too.

"How is your mother?" I ask Draco, taking his hand.

"Healer Smith says that she's holding her own," he says, looking down. "You know that she was hit with the Entrail Expelling Curse?"

"It must have been awful," I gasp in horror and try to put the image of spilling intestines out of my mind.

"It was," says Draco, shuddering. He lifts his head. "Severus put the Virgo Curato in her hand and was spelling it directly into her blood when LeDrox nailed him with that flaying curse. Only part of it got into her system. At least the partial dose has kept her alive. When Severus wakes up, we want him to put another dose into her hand. Healer Smith thinks that if she gets a full dose, it will finish the healing."

"You know that I'd try, if I thought that would work," I reply, sadly.

"It's okay," says Draco, shaking his head. "You don't know my mother. It has to be Severus who gives it to her. You've still saved her life, though. There wouldn't be the Virgo Curato, if not for you."

"I wish that there was something else I could do."

"You can't," says Draco. "You look beat. You probably shouldn't be out of bed."

"No," I reply. "I had to come and see Severus and you. I needed to know that you were both all right. I'll go to the Weasleys'. I'll rest there."

"The funerals start tomorrow morning," says Draco, solemnly. "I'll be going to all of them that I can. Father is staying with Mother, so I'll be representing the family."

"Charlie said that Ron's funeral is at 1 o'clock," I add, trying hard not to cry. "I haven't seen Harry or any of the Weasleys except Charlie."

"Which is why you should go home and rest. Tomorrow is going to be a rough day," says Draco.

"I'll go to Ron's funeral and then I'll come here," I explain. "I can sleep in a chair and stay with Severus. I want to be here when he wakes up."

* * *

Severus

I am actually starting to feel rested. I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. Perhaps with a little more sleep, I shall feel like getting out of bed. I close my eyes with the intent of letting myself doze off.

"Hello, Snape."

I have not heard that voice in three years. Three years that were all the more pleasant for his absence. I roll over and reach under my pillow. It should have been a smooth movement resulting in retrieving my wand so that I might aim it at his head. Instead, I am noticeably fumbling about searching for a piece of wood that simply is not there.

"You don't have a wand here," says Black.

"Perhaps not," I reply carefully. "I still seem to have enemies."

"I heard that Moody came by earlier," says Black, looking amused. "His visit inspired mine."

I shift position so that I can see him clearly. I want to be prepared in case he makes a move against me. Not that I will be in any condition to put up a good defense. Just the action of moving around in the bed has reminded me of how weak I am.

Sirius Black looks much improved compared with the last time that I saw him. He had been drinking excessively at least three or four times a week. His good looks had already deteriorated because of Azkaban. He was allowing his grooming to slip as well.

This version of Sirius Black looks like a prime example of what clean living can do for a man. He has lost the haggard look that he carried before. He appears healthy, with good color. His hair and beard are neat, clean and lush, giving him the look of a Cavalier. His robes are well tailored and immaculate.

The wretch looks like a fine specimen of wizardhood.

"If you are aware that Moody visited earlier," I snap, with as much emphasis as I can find, "then you are aware that he also left. Allow that to be your inspiration, too."

Sirius Black has the unmitigated gall to laugh at me. It is a full-bodied hearty laugh. I am getting irritated and would like to hex him, if I could find my wand and the energy to do so.

"That's one of the things I've always envied about you, Snape," he chuckles. "You have a gift for sarcasm that is second to none. I tried to use sarcasm that way when we were boys. I never could get it right. But then, I didn't have your vocabulary and couldn't think as fast on my feet as you could when it came to snappy come backs."

He crosses his arms and looks thoughtful.

"I think I could have matched you, magically speaking. Not for wit or sarcasm. It didn't help that you were smarter than me, either.

I am struck dumb. Black is admitting that I surpassed him in three areas where we constantly battled.

"I got you that time," he says with a familiar smirk. "The last thing you expected from me was honesty."

"Why?" I ask, surprised that I managed to get the words out.

"It's this place," replies Black, waving his hand. "It demands it of us. Pretense falls away, denial doesn't work, and all of the defenses you built up in life tumble into a big messy pile at your feet. You have to face the facts about who you are, what you did, why you did it, and how it affected everyone else around you.

"It's a bitch having to drop the blinkers, but there you have it," he sighs. "When you get here and have to stay, it'll happen to you, too.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd have to wait until then to have this conversation. I figured I might as well take advantage of your current predicament."

"What exactly is my predicament?" I ask.

"You're in a healing sleep of some sort," replies Black, sounding sincere. "At least that's how your mother describes it. She says you'll be coming out of it some time tomorrow. That's why you've had so many visitors. There's been a line of people wanting to take advantage of the opportunity. Your mother's been screening everyone and deciding who gets in and who doesn't."

"Why did she let you in?" I ask, dryly. At least I did not add the comment about him being a mangy dog.

"Because you and I have more unfinished business than you have with anyone else who is here," he says, crossing his arms. "I'm not sure if she thinks that this is for your benefit or mine.

"You made peace with Remus a few months ago," says Black, sighing. "You did it for your own reasons, but I want you to know that I'm grateful to you for it. What happened that night wasn't his fault. The responsibility is entirely mine and I never accepted that until I got here.

"I can't make it right," continues Black, looking ashamed. "It did too much damage to you and I can't undo it. The only thing I can do is acknowledge that I set things up so that you would find your way into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow. I made sure that Remus would be able to get out of the Shrieking Shack and into the tunnel after he transformed.

"I thought he'd bite you and you'd become a werewolf, too," says Black, forcing himself to look at me. "I thought it would teach you a lesson and you'd know what it was to have to live like Remus did. You'd have to leave Hogwarts or you'd quit bothering us because we'd know your secret and could threaten to expose you to the whole world. You would have to be our slave, if we wanted it."

Black is making a point of looking at me straight in the eye.

"I wanted it. I thought it would be great entertainment if we could have you at our disposal. It would have been the ultimate humiliation. I hope you believe me when I say that I regret that," says Black.

"After James saved you," he continues, "he screamed, yelled, and knocked me around. He made me realize that Remus probably would have killed you. Remus would have been executed and Dumbledore would have lost his job. Azkaban might have even been a possibility, though I don't think Dumbledore could have been held captive there. I'll bet Fawkes could come and get him out.

"The fact is that the whole business happened because I wouldn't take that damn mood controlling potion. When I took it consistently, I stayed even. I didn't get those deep dark depressions, but it also meant that I didn't get those wonderful highs.

"I loved being manic," confesses Black. "I loved how powerful I felt. I had all of this energy and it was like all of the good ideas in the world were pouring into my head. I always believed that I was brilliant and intuitive during those times.

"It wasn't true," says Black, regretfully. "I deluded myself. The truth is that I couldn't follow a thought to a logical conclusion when I was in that state. One plus two equaled four or twelve or a million. I'd go off on some glorious tangent and come up with another grandiose scheme that was going to do amazing things.

"I didn't know at the time that my ideas wouldn't work," replies Black, shaking his head. "There was no reasoning with me about it, either. I didn't take the potion, because I didn't like how I felt when I took it. It may have evened out my moods, but it made me feel flat. I felt lousy. I liked feeling manic and didn't like feeling flat. It's like it took all the creativity and energy out of me.

"You heard about how the Aurors found me when Pettigrew got away after Voldemort killed James and Lily?" asks Black.

"It was the talk of the wizarding world," I reply, snidely.

"I'll bet it was covered by all of the newspapers, too," laughs Black, in a surprising response. "I was manic and believed that I couldn't possibly fail. Since I didn't betray Lily and James, it had to be Pettigrew. When I tracked him down, stupid fat Pettigrew out-thought the brilliant and infallible Sirius Black. If I have been taking that potion, Pettigrew wouldn't have got away from me. The Aurors wouldn't have found me standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by dead Muggles and screaming like a lunatic.

"I went without a fight. When they put me in Azkaban, I crashed and hit the darkest depression I've ever had. I didn't care what they did to me. I sat in my cell with those nightmares outside the door, too depressed to figure out how to kill myself.

"Then, one day it occurred to me that I could end it all if I kissed a Dementor," says Black, with a shrug. "I've never told anyone this, but I actually tried to kiss a Dementor. It didn't work. They were obeying orders from the Ministry then, so they wouldn't execute me. That's when I started spending time in my Animagus form. They didn't seem to care about Snuffles.

"Anyway," says Black, looking contrite, "the point of all of this is that I am sorry for setting you up. I'm sorry for what it did to Remus, too."

"Do you understand why I find it difficult to believe you?" I respond, scathingly.

"Sure," says Black, dismissively. "We've got too much history between us. If our positions were reversed, I probably wouldn't believe you either. You'll understand it better when the time comes for you to take up permanent residence here."

"Which may be many years from now," I reply.

"I hope so," says Black. "You've been through a helluva lot and you should get a chance to live a normal life."

Black stands up.

"I've run past my time and will probably be getting a lecture from your mother," he says. "Your body needs time to sleep without any visitors from this side disturbing you. I'll just wish you good luck and depart."

"Why? You and I despised each other. I still despise you," I snarl.

"Because I owe you," says Black, shaking his head. "This debt still stands and will stand until you find it possible to forgive me. I understand that you can't do that, now. I hope that over time, it will become possible."

I shake my head. I do not understand why he thinks that I could forgive him for all he has done to me.

"You'll never consciously remember this conversation," says Black, "But, your soul will remember. Maybe it will open a door to some sort of mutual understanding, someday. It's an important part of what we need to accomplish. Believe it or not, I hope that you will have a good life."

I snort in response.

Black leaves. Fortunately, I am weary enough that my irritation at having been in his presence falls away and it takes me only a few minutes to fall back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione

"I'm so sorry, Molly," I say as she pulls the quilt up over me.

I'm so tired. By the time we reached the Burrow, I was so wobbly on my feet that Charlie carried me in through the door. I just couldn't keep going. We got here five minutes before Mediwizard Prewitt arrived to check on me. His lecture is still ringing in my ears.

"Hush, dear," says Molly. "We can deal with everything else tomorrow. You are going to sleep and I'll check on you from time to time."

Her eyes are red from crying and the lines around her eyes are deeper than they have ever seemed before. Ginny is standing at the end of the bed, my clothes over her arm so she can throw them into the laundry. She looks so sad.

"I'm going tomorrow," I tell them, wiping my eyes. "I'm going to Ron's funeral. I can't not go."

"We'll see how you feel tomorrow," says Molly, sitting down on the side of the bed. "If you're strong enough, you can go. I'm not making any promises about whether or not you can see Severus, tomorrow. You may have had the most powerful healing potion there is, but you still need to get your strength back. Mediwizard Prewitt gave me a list of do's and don'ts for you and we're going to follow them. Number one on the list is for you to sleep. You exhausted yourself by going to St. Mungo's."

"I stayed too long," I explain. I'm not going to get into a debate with Molly about it. I'm too tired and I know I'll be stronger in the morning.

Molly brushes my hair back. It feels so nice to be cosseted a bit. I can't keep my eyes open.

* * *

Severus

That nap has done me a world of good. I think that I must have been hurt and I have been recovering. I am glad that I left the fireplace in my bedroom after Minerva asked the castle to install it when Hermione was hurt. There is a soft glow from the embers and it takes the chill out of the room. Even in June, the dungeons can be cold.

I stretch and turn over.

"Mum." I smile and hold out my hand to her. My mother is sitting in the chair beside my bed. She has a book on her lap. I believe she is reading _Sense and Sensibility_, probably for the twentieth time.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Better," I reply. "It is much easier to move."

"You're moving into more normal sleep," she says, reassuringly. "Your Healer was just here and she said that you will probably wake up tomorrow."

"It has been so pleasant being here with you," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "I wish I could stay awake long enough for us to really talk."

"That's how it is with a deep healing sleep," she comments, holding my hand between both of hers. She rises and perches on the side of my bed. "You can't stay awake here for long," Mum explains. "In fact, this is the last time you'll wake up here. Everything you experience from now on will be normal dreaming."

"I do not want to leave you," I whisper, looking into her dark eyes.

"I left you, son," she whispers back, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I didn't want to, but that's how it worked out. I promise that I'll always be nearby and I'll hear you when you talk to me."

Mum smiles and there is such fondness in it. My mother loves me. My heart warms with a corresponding love for her.

"I knew when you were standing in front of the Mirror of S'Deen," she says. "I knew what you needed and I took your hand. You saw me in the mirror, talking to you. You couldn't hear me, but you knew what I was saying."

"I do remember," I reply. "You told me that you forgave me."

"I did," she answers. "You're all grown up now and so terribly independent. But, I'm still your Mum and I'll always be here when you need me."

"When Sirius Black was here," I say, remembering, "he said that I would not remember anything that happens while I am asleep."

"No," says Mum, sadly. "The processes that take memories into the parts of the brain that keep them don't work properly when you're in such a deep healing sleep. The wonderful thing is that your soul will remember everything you've experienced here. If you've learned or gained anything from being here, it will still affect you, even if you can't remember why."

"My soul will remember talking to you?" I ask.

"It will," assures Mum.

"Will you stay with me?" I ask, through a yawn.

"I'll be right here, reading _Sense and Sensibility_," she says, cheerfully.

"Would you read it aloud?" I close my eyes and adjust the pillow.

"Of course," she says, opening her book to a marked place.

"I am very glad I was able to see you again," I murmur, drowsy. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you, too. I'll always love you, Severus," she replies and begins to read.

I fall asleep to the sound of my mother's voice.

* * *

Author's notes:

My apologies to any reviewers I missed this time around. Real Life greatly interfered with my preferred pastimes. I do appreciate all of your comments and suggestions. Apparently, while I was taking painkillers for an abscess in my jaw, I wrote responses to some reviews that made no sense. If I wrote you one of those, my apologies. I've added this to my list of things not to do, like taking NyQuil.

Thank you to: Kittykat91419, Sugarsnape, Lady Slone, Brillant, Sylphides, Princessfiona, Graynavarre, Laurenke1, o0morgana0o, notplainjane, Darque Hart, MamaJMarie, Lipasnape, Mother of Tears, Lonelygirl54, Lovethelab, Fatalani-Zabini, Demmons1399, Droxy, Severessa, Pirra, Althea Gray, Inspire, Andi-Scribbles, Mini-Mooney, Murgy31, Rowain, Teddy240b, Shadow, Angel-65, Steph, MoreThanSirius, Erytha, She is brighter, Jade2099, Traceyww, Ginz.x, Squeaker19450, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Yasmin, LoveChilde, KimJo, Wynnleaf, Kirien, Phytonesse, KellyRoxton, Mela, Smiles28, Maddie50, Notwritten, Alison, KimSpiritTalks, Annie, EvilMastermind666, Duj, Karla Manatee, Sinkme, Seth7, Rinny08, Sweetrose9864, Keske, Perwinkle27, Mrs.HermioneSeverusSnape, Iamobsessedwithharrypotter, Pickles87, Quiet-mg, Missbluejuju, Excessivelyperky, Koliber, Ceralyn, Ladywatts, Rebecca, Walk.in.the.rain., C, Allycat1186, MollysSister, CharmedForce, GiggleGinny, MuggleMomof3, RhondaH, Arsinoe de Blassenville, 7differentdoors, Klschmidt, Hermydraco11243, Trulyamused, Arime Setta, Snapeygirl, Lonelygirl54, Mrs.Dan, GreatGinny and Sopor.


	104. Chapter 104

If I owned it, my credit card balance would be zero.

A whole lot of thanks to Julia for her input into many parts of this chapter. Jocemum gave her input into the medical aspects of this chapter.

Others, who shall remain nameless, will be thanked later.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
_June 23rd, 1999

**Aurors Honor Their Fallen  
**By Rita Skeeter

The five Aurors who were killed during the Battle of Malfoy Manor will be laid to rest today after separate funerals. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Leta Burns, Maxwell Turnbull, Alastor Moody and Ronald Weasley will be eulogized by Minister for Magic Amelia Bones. Services will be held at Saint Bosco's church in London. Funerals have been arranged so that they will not overlap, making it possible for Aurors and representatives of magical law enforcement departments from around the world to attend.

There has been an outpouring of sympathy and support for the families of those Aurors who gave the last full measure of service to the wizarding world by capturing the Dark Lord and putting an end to his reign of terror. Forty-two of his Death Eaters were captured or killed with help from the Order of the Phoenix. Make-shift memorials have sprung up at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic and at the gates of Malfoy Manor. Grateful witches and wizards from all over Britain have left flowers, lighted candles, stuffed animals addressed to the children of the slain, and notes of thanks to the families.

Scholarship funds have been established for the children of Leta Burns and Maxwell Turnbull, who are still of school age. The families of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody and Ronald Weasley have asked that donations be made to the Aurors' Widows and Orphans fund in memory of their own lost heroes.

"We honor our own," said Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of Magical Law Enforcement. "Each of these Aurors gave his or her life in the line of duty. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters posed a terrible threat to the peace and stability of wizarding Britain and potentially the world at large. These Aurors may have been off-duty at the time, but they performed to the highest standards of our Department and will be honored as such. Without a doubt, they have set an example of service for each one of us to emulate."

It is expected that hundreds will attend each of the services. Obituaries for each of these fallen heroes can be found on pages 4 and 5.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix who were slain in the battle will also be buried today and tomorrow. For a complete listing, please see page 9.

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
_June 23rd, 1999

**Albus Dumbledore Retires  
**By Rita Skeeter

In a surprising move, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry announced his immediate retirement from the position which he has held since 1956. He has also submitted his resignation from the posts of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

Dumbledore cited health concerns and a desire for a more private life as his reasons for his unexpected retirement. He expressed the wish to spend more time on his hobbies, including ten pin bowling, developing knitting patterns, enjoying chamber music, and alchemy.

Professor Minerva McGonagall has been appointed Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts for the few days remaining in this school year. She is expected to be a leading candidate for permanent appointment to the post, based on her many years of service as Deputy Headmistress.

* * *

_The Quibbler  
_June 23rd, 1999

**Equality Among Heroes  
**By Xenophilius Lovegood

Once again, the Ministry of Magic and its mouthpiece, commonly referred to as _The Daily Prophet_, are spinning the truth about events surrounding the Battle of Malfoy Manor. In an assortment of press releases and public interviews, Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, has given his department credit for the victory against The Forces of Evil conquered on the night of June 21st.

This reporter has heard an entirely different version of events leading up to the capture of the self-styled Lord Voldemort.

According to Chester Sommersby, spokesman for the Order of the Phoenix, the effort to bring Lord Voldemort to justice was not conceived by the Ministry, but by individual members of the Order. The attack was made possible by having the full cooperation of the family of Lucius Malfoy to lure the former Dark Lord to Malfoy Manor.

Close friend of The Boy Who Lived, Hermione Granger is the genius behind the idea of the Happy-Sleepy potion that brought down the Dark Lord. As is the case with so many Order members, Granger has lost family to the depravations of The Evil One and his followers. It is believed that Death Eaters were responsible for the still unsolved murders of her parents in 1996.

Granger is currently a student of Potions at Avalon College in the United States. According to Sommersby, the idea of the Happy-Sleepy potion came to her as a result of a teacher's lecture on the subject of the biology of addiction to narcotics. It is not entirely clear how the connection was made between drug addiction and suppression of magic, but it resulted in the Order putting all of its resources into the development of the Happy-Sleepy Potion.

The effort to create the actual potion was spearheaded by Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Snape, who has been revealed as the Order's spy within the Death Eaters, is credited with developing the potion used on Voldemort. A multi-national team of witches and wizards worked with the Order of the Phoenix to invent the Happy-Sleepy orbs, which were used to pelt the erstwhile Dark Lord into submission.

Neither Hermione Granger or Severus Snape were available for comment. Both are recovering from serious injuries sustained during the Battle of Malfoy Manor. Granger is convalescing at home and Snape is still a patient at St. Mungo's. The family of Lucius Malfoy have endured their own difficulties because of their role in the Dark Lord's fall. Madam Malfoy is still listed as being in a critical condition at St. Mungo's.

Today, all of wizarding Britain mourns the loss of five of our finest Aurors. Their sacrifice should be lauded and remembered for all time. Yet, the sacrifice made by members of the Order of the Phoenix should not be relegated to a footnote in history. The Order lost seventeen members on the battlefield. They were:

Joshua Bailey  
Leta Burns  
Dermott Campbell  
Timothy Edwards  
Charles Goodwin  
Alexis Green  
Rolanda Hooch  
Cassandra Miller  
Alastor Moody  
Samantha Moore  
Adrian Pucey  
Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Maxwell Turnbull  
Andrew Watson  
Ronald Weasley  
Smithby Wilkinson  
Oliver Wood

This list is presented in alphabetical order. Please notice that there are seventeen members of the Order of the Phoenix listed. Five of them were Aurors, two were shopkeepers, one was a file clerk, another was a famous Quidditch player and two were retired from the Ministry.

We have not listed all of their occupations. The Editorial Staff of _The Quibbler_ simply wishes to make the point that all of these individuals were members of the Order of the Phoenix. None of them were there because they were shopkeepers, retirees, file clerks, Quidditch players or Aurors. They were good and decent wizards and witches who stood up for a cause they believed in and fell in service to humanity.

During these days of mourning, let all be remembered as the heroes they truly are.

To view the obituaries of all of our fallen heroes, please see pages 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7.

* * *

_The Quibbler  
_June 23rd, 1999

**Albus Dumbledore Retires?  
**By Xenophilius Lovegood

In a revelation that has sent shockwaves through all of wizarding Europe, Albus Dumbledore has announced his immediate retirement from the post of Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This unexpected turn of events is further compounded by his simultaneous resignation as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

In his official statement, Dumbledore explains his actions as a desire to spend more time developing knitting patterns and pursuing other hobbies. He also indicates that there are unnamed health issues behind his decision.

While a wizard of Dumbledore's advanced years may certainly have any number of health issues, it seems unlikely that one who has been offered the position of Minister for Magic at least three times would simply step down from all of the significant positions he holds voluntarily. At the very least, Dumbledore is well-known for his love of Hogwarts and it is unbelievable that he would retire without notice when only three days away from the end of the school term.

It leads one to speculate that Albus Dumbledore has made a deal.

Sources within the Ministry report rumblings that the Order of the Phoenix could undermine the political careers of several members of the Wizengamot. The successful effort to bring down Voldemort and the Death Eaters was conceptualized by a rag tag group of vigilantes, instead of within the august confines of the Ministry. The Ministry already sports a proverbial black eye because of the failure of the Fudge regime to acknowledge the return of Lord Voldemort in a timely manner.

Albus Dumbledore is both the founder and head of the Order of the Phoenix. He created it during the 1970s to resist the Dark Lord's encroachment into wizarding society. The Order was reconstituted in the 1990s after Lord Voldemort returned to a physical body at the end of the Tri Wizard Tournament.

What would Albus Dumbledore sacrifice in order to save the members of the Order of the Phoenix from prosecution?

Would a man who put his life on the line against Voldemort on more than one occasion give up his career and prestigious appointments to protect his friends and allies who may have broken laws in order to bring about the downfall of the most notorious Dark wizard of our time?

You can bet the wart at the end of your nose on that one.

* * *

Hermione  
June 23rd, 1999  
Afternoon

Harry has one arm around me, keeping me steady as I drop the yellow rose into the open grave. It lands on Ron's coffin, along with the others in red, pink, and white placed there by the others who were there before me. Draco takes my arm, freeing Harry to drop his own yellow rose into the grave.

The three of us walk away among the graves, followed by a dozen of our contemporaries from Hogwarts. We turn, just for a moment, to take a final look.

Lavender drops a red rose into the grave, sobbing. Neville is next and drops a yellow rose as he wipes his eyes. Parvati and Padma are carrying roses they charmed purple. Ernie McMillan, Seamus Finnigan, Lee Jordan, Blaise Zabini and the others are waiting their turns at the graveside.

We were positively mobbed by friends when we arrived. The church was filled to overflowing. Family, friends, Order members, Aurors from thirteen countries, reporters, and politicians all turned out for the series of funerals held at England's largest wizarding church. The heavily warded church was used for Leta Burn's funeral this morning. Kingsley Shacklebolt's service will be next.

I wish we could have kicked half of these people out. I know that Harry was tempted, the way he kept fingering his wand whenever we were approached. It was one thing for Neville to ask Draco how his mother was doing. It was another thing for Rita Skeeter to do it.

This is one occasion when I wish I had kept her in that bug jar after fourth year.

Draco's impeccable manners came in handy. He simply told her that his mother was holding her own and his father was staying with her while he attended the funerals to represent his family. He was gracious.

At least on the surface.

When we sat down, he whispered that he'd like to buy _The Prophet_ someday and his first act would be to fire her. His second would be to have her blacklisted from every newspaper except for those located in Siberia.

I think my Gryffindor friends who are not Order members are having a difficult time seeing Harry and me with Draco. At the moment, the two of them are acting as my keepers, under orders from Molly _not to let me overdo_. I'm grateful they're here. They keep me from dwelling too much on the fact that Ron is dead.

When I really let myself think about it, I just want to curl up and cry. He should be here with us. It should be the three of us attending someone else's funeral.

During the service, Minister Bones talked about honor, duty, sacrifice, and life cut short. I wonder if she will give the same speech at the other funerals? God knows, it is just as true for Mad-Eye Moody as it was for Ron.

Albus talked solemnly about a boy who liked Quidditch, chess, and his mother's cooking. Then, he became a man who served a cause greater than himself.

It was the priest who made me cry when she said, "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

Those words, passed down through the ages, hold the ring of truth. Ron and the others died so that the rest of us could live. So that we could have normal lives without the threat and fear of Voldemort continually hanging over us. None of us went into the battle with the intention of dying, but we all knew the risk.

If Ron's sacrifice is to be meaningful, we have to make peace with our loss and go on with our lives. That's what he died for.

I don't think I ever understood that, before. Somehow, that makes me feel more determined.

That and I'm not as tired as I was yesterday. I think that I slept for almost eighteen hours. I got up in time to eat a little and come to Ron's funeral. Ellen was at St. Mungo's and sent a message that Severus was still asleep and looked like he was going to continue sleeping until late afternoon or early evening. I'm going to go when we're done here and be with him. I can transfigure a chair into something comfortable and take another nap until he wakes up.

I may be better than yesterday, but I am tired from feeling so much. The handkerchief that Severus gave me when we sat on top of the Astronomy Tower is in my hand. It's damp from tears and wrinkled from clutching it so tightly. Severus can't be here, but at least I have his hanky.

We're walking towards the cluster of blurry red-headed forms ahead of us. Wiping my eyes, I see Jean and Mike talking with Arthur. Bill separates from the group and walks towards us.

"Dad, the twins and I are going to stay on for Kingsley's funeral," he says, quietly. "We think it would be best if Mum went home. Percy and Ginny are going to go with her."

At the moment, Molly is clinging to Percy. Who knew that the git would finally decide to reconcile with his family? It only took a death in the family to make it happen. If it weren't for the fact that it actually seems to be helping Molly, I'd kick him. At least he turned out to be only an obnoxious Ministry bureaucrat and not a Death Eater.

Ginny has come over to join us. She looks like a pale imitation of herself. Harry puts his arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder.

"None of this seems real," she says. "I had a feeling that something was going on, but I was so caught up in my N.E.W.T.S. and the idea of being finished with Hogwarts that I thought it was just nerves." She turns her head into Harry's neck. "I just wish I had seen him one more time."

Ginny starts to sob and Harry guides her away so that they can be alone for a bit. A reporter walks in our direction and Bill gives him a look that sends him rapidly off in another direction.

We all stand around silently and watch them, feeling helpless. Remus and Tonks join us. Tonks' hair is mousey brown and she looks strained. During the funerals, she is half on duty and half mourner. There is concern that there may be undiscovered Death Eaters running about.

"We have another thirty minutes until Auror Shacklebolt's funeral starts," says Draco. "I can take Hermione to St. Mungo's. Roger Littlehorse is on duty with Professor Snape. I'll leave her with him. We can go back and get her to take her home afterwards. Professor Snape might be awake by then."

"What's going on with Moody's funeral?" asks Bill, scratching his head. "Why isn't it being held after Kingsley's?"

"He left instructions that he didn't want one," says Tonks, after giving her nose a good blow. "He's being cremated and in a couple of days we're supposed to take his urn to the Leaky Cauldron and have a party. Then, we're supposed to take his ashes and a bottle of fire whisky to the coast. He wants to have his ashes poured into the water and empty the bottle of whisky in after."

"Never one to stand on ceremony," smiles Bill.

"He left money for the party," says Remus with a wry smile. "Imagine Moody picking up the tab."

"He never did in life," says Albus, joining the group. "I suppose he may acquire a few new good habits now that he is gone."

"Is it true, Professor?" I ask, looking up at Albus. He looks so different, wearing robes in a blue so dark that it is almost black. Today, his only embellishment is the phoenix pattern woven into the fabric.

"About my retirement?" he replies, twinkling. "Yes, it is. I have decided to pursue my love of knitting and alchemy as full-time occupations."

"Is that why I haven't been kicked out of the Auror's program?" quizzes Harry, rejoining the group. Ginny looks more collected.

"No," says Albus, firmly. "You have not been sacked because you are an asset to the Aurors and they would be fools to do so. Let us just say that things are much less complicated this way."

"You are taking the blame for all of us," I tell him. "That's not right. All of us who fought are adults and we made a choice."

Albus rocks back on his heels, thinking.

"Do you remember what I said when I sent all of you off into battle?" he says, stroking his beard. "I have known all of you as children and would have liked to spare you this as adults. I could not spare you the battlefield. Every single one of you was needed for our plan to work. However, this is one time that I can spare all of you. I shall miss Hogwarts. I shall not miss anything else.

"Besides," he continues, smiling mischievously, "Chester and I have decided to figure out what Tom Riddle did to himself to become immortal. That is the key to figuring out how to do away with him on a more permanent basis. I would also like to learn how to cast a Patronus that can do away with a Dementor. My retirement will hardly be idle."

"I'll bet that thought has the Ministry nervous," comments Ginny. It's good to see her smile.

"I am always pleased when speculation about my activities causes officials of our esteemed government to lose sleep," replies Albus, looking amused.

I look around at my friends, grateful for their presence. I could have lost more of them.

"We need to get moving if I'm going to be back in time for Auror Shacklebolt's funeral," says Draco. "Ready?" he asks.

I bid goodbye to my friends. I probably won't see them until Oliver Wood's funeral tomorrow.

* * *

Late Afternoon

"Everyone knows that you're needed here," I insist. "You're taking care of the injured. You couldn't do that and go to the funerals, too."

"Including the Death Eaters," says Roger, leaning against the wall. "The sooner they recover, the sooner they can stand trial."

"I need to get to Sommersby's and check on Tom Riddle, again," sighs Ellen, wearily tucking her hair behind her ear. "My list of things to do is longer than my time to do it in."

It has been a long day for everyone. Draco did a side-along Apparition with me to St. Mungo's. He dashed two doors down to the private room where his mother is being cared for. Five minutes later, he dashed off to Kingsley Shacklebolt's funeral.

Then, Jean and Mike came in so Ellen could do some more repair work on his injured arm.

Severus is still sleeping. Ellen says that he's shown steady signs of improvement and that the important healing should be done in a few hours. She'll take the bandages off and then he'll wake up.

I am going to be here when Severus opens his eyes. I have so much to tell him, starting with _I love you_ as many times as he can stand to hear it.

Roger was kind enough to transfigure a straight back chair in Severus' room into the nicest armchair. I sat down next to Severus and held his hand, while Roger stood guard in the hallway. I think I slept as soundly as Severus. The nap did me a world of good.

There is an Auror on guard in the Curse Reversal Unit. She's a stranger and not a member of the Order. I never thought I would say this, but right now, I trust Lucius Malfoy more than a total stranger and Roger a good deal more than that.

There is concern that there may be other Death Eaters out there. There is no way of knowing who might climb out from under various and sundry rocks to get even with the traitors who brought down the Dark Lord. That's why Severus and Madam Malfoy are in private rooms instead of a ward.

An Order member, capable of putting up a good fight, is on duty at all times with Severus. Lucius Malfoy and Draco are taking turns watching over Madam Malfoy. This gives us three people present who could defend them. I'd feel better if there were more, but resources are stretched too thin.

When Roger offered to stand guard during the funerals, it put everyone's mind at ease. Any idiot who would take on a man who can turn into a Thunderbird at will and send a lightning bolt into one's hide deserves what he gets.

I suspect it would make a dreadful mess in Ellen's clean hallways.

None of the injured Death Eaters are here. They are being kept in detention cells at the Ministry and are tended by a Healer on duty who is being supervised by Ellen. When they are well enough, they'll be transferred to Azkaban until their trials. Of the forty-two Death Eaters present at Draco's initiation ceremony, twenty-one are dead and nineteen were injured. One surrendered and no one quite knows how to classify Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her magic returned about eighteen hours after her exposure to one single Happy-Sleepy orb. According to Ellen's description, Bellatrix seems to be one of those people who experienced instant addiction because of a single dose of crack cocaine. She's spending her time in a holding cell, begging and talking to the voices in her head. They say that she has a rather sweet voice when she sings, even if she tends to sing about beheading, dismembering, and Crucio.

Sadly for her, all of the Happy-Sleepy is being saved for Voldemort.

"I'm not surprised that you're the one everybody wants to see. It's heck being the St. Mungo's best at curse detection and reversal," teases Jean.

"On demand everywhere," quips Mike. He extends his arm, makes a fist and releases it. "My arm feels back to normal. The residual stiffness is gone."

We're in the hallway outside of Severus' room. Mike and Jean came to see Ellen for a follow-up on his injury during the battle.

"Word has it that there will be a memorial ceremony at the Ministry in the next week or two," says Jean. "They're going to present Orders of Merlin to the families of the fallen."

"All I can say is that they had better not ignore the Order members who weren't Aurors," fumes Ellen. "I can't believe how the Ministry is trying to grab credit for taking down Voldemort."

"I can believe it," says Jean, shaking her head in annoyance. "They're using their typical CYA maneuver."

"CYA?" I ask.

"Cover your arse," quips Mike. "The joys of working in a bureaucracy. There is always someone ready to throw you in front of a bludger to protect themselves."

"Read _The Quibbler_," I remark. "Mr. Lovegood is printing the truth."

"Not enough people read _The Quibbler_," says Ellen. "Too many people believe what they see in _The Daily Prophet_. We cannot let them get away with ignoring the Order of the Phoenix. I pronounced seventeen of our friends dead on that battlefield. I will be damned if I'm going to let the Ministry get away with ignoring twelve of them."

"I agree," says Jean, grimly. "We may not sit in the Wizengamot, but we've got influence."

"We're already talking to people and letting them know that there will be a scandal of huge proportions if they deny recognition to the Order's fallen while giving it to the Aurors," says Mike. "Dumbledore has to know where plenty of bodies are buried after being in the Wizengamot for seventy years."

"You can't count on Dumbledore to give you information like that," I comment. "After Ron's funeral, he came just short of admitting that he'd made a deal with Minister Bones to keep any of us from being prosecuted for what we did. It might be a deal breaker if he used any of that information to influence things at the Ministry."

"I thought so," says Jean, nodding agreement. "I'd be willing to bet that the Wizengamot will start issuing one summons after another for hearings about what we did and how we did it.

"They should know," says Roger. "Pulling this off took an incredible amount of effort. Don't forget that you've got friends in the United States who will use their influence."

"That can only help," says Mike. "If you think the Ministry kowtowed to Lucius Malfoy, wait and see what they'll do when Daniel Schuler starts throwing his weight around."

"I realize this is only a fantasy of mine," sighs Ellen, "but just once, I'd like to see the Ministry do the right thing because it is the right thing to do."

"Dreamer," says Jean, shaking her head.

"Optimist," offers Mike.

"I guess British wizarding government isn't any better than American wizarding government," comments Roger. "The people who actually want to run the government are the last ones who should be allowed to do it."

He straightens up as we see Limnoreia coming up the hallway.

"How is snakeface doing?" asks Jean.

"When I left, the former Dark Lord was sitting on the floor of his cell trying to do wandless magic and not getting so much as a sparkle out of his fingertips," says Limnoreia, leaning on Roger who puts his arm around her waist. "I'm not sure how effective curses are when you slur them like a drunk on the third day of a four day binge."

"I am so relieved that Happy-Sleepy actually works," I sigh. "We knew that it should work, but that isn't the same as having it work, especially after the price we've paid."

"Speaking of paying the price," interrupts Ellen, "it's time to take off Snape's bandages and see how the healing has progressed." She waves at Mediwizard Prewitt who is coming out of Narcissa Malfoy's room. He turns and comes down the hallway towards us.

"I'll assess how he's doing and if his skin has regenerated sufficiently, I'll leave the bandages off and you can see him," says Ellen. "Otherwise, the bandages will go back on."

Mike just put his newly healed arm around Jean's shoulders and is talking to her quietly. Ellen and the Mediwizard go in with Severus. I cross my arms and shudder.

"Don't do that, Hermione," says Jean, sharply. "Don't put your imagination to work. I won't deny that it was awful, but your imagination is going to make it worse than what it was. The BludgeSucker did far worse damage by caving in faces. Put your imagination to work on that and the reality was worse than whatever you are seeing in your head."

I'm clutching Severus' handkerchief again. Jean knew. She knew exactly what I was doing. I was imagining what Severus must have looked like with all of the skin flayed off his head. Jean opens her arms and I cross to her. We're holding on for dear life and I'm doing my best not to burst into tears.

It's only been a few minutes, but it feels so much longer. Mediwizard Prewitt opens the door.

"Healer Smith says that Hermione can come in," he says, backing up and opening the door so that can enter the room. I'm not in the least surprised when Jean sneaks in after me.

His skin must have grown back all right or Ellen wouldn't have see him without putting the bandages back on, unless she wants to break the bad news to me before Severus wakes up.

Ellen moves over so that we can see.

An absolute wave of relief passes through me. It's my Severus and his skin looks beautiful. He's pale, but the new skin is flawless. It's smooth and there isn't even a shadow of his beard beneath the skin. Or even the tiniest bit of peach fuzz on his scalp. Or eyebrows.

Severus' head is completely hairless. It's a shock, but not too bad.

"How long will it take for his hair to grow back?" asks Jean, smiling down at him.

"We'll regrow his eyelashes after he wakes up," says Ellen, softly. "We need those right away to keep dirt and debris out of our eyes. Tomorrow, we will work on his eyebrows. His beard will come back naturally over the next few days. If Severus wants us speed up hair regrowth on his scalp, we'll do that next week."

"He'll need his eyebrows before he needs hair on his scalp," I murmur, gazing at the porcelain-fine skin. "He won't be able to do a proper glare without his eyebrows."

"Hermione's right about that," says Jean, softly. "He can do that thing where you only raise one eyebrow. I can't do that. I have to move both at the same time. If he doesn't have eyebrows, you won't be able to tell when he's giving you that look."

"Most of us can't pull off the facial expressions Severus uses every day without coming across like drama queens," observes Ellen.

"It's the height and the contrast between his pale skin and dark hair and eyes," I muse. "He's dramatic. It comes naturally to him."

"Bald isn't a bad look for him," comments Ellen. "He might decide that he likes it."

The three of us are leaning over Severus, who is sleeping as peacefully and soundly as a baby. I hope he's unaware that we're assessing him, because I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it. We turn our heads this way and that so we can examine his head from different angles.

"You're right," says Jean. "He has a nicely shaped skull. It's not pointy or flat. It's an oval and doesn't have any big dents or weird looking bumps on it."

I'm on my tiptoes, trying to look straight down at Severus, while Jean is bent over sideways so that she can look at his profile.

"His ears lie close to his head," I remark. "They don't stick out at all, which is a real advantage if he decides to stay bald."

"It might really emphasize his nose," says Jean, giving the mighty proboscis a once over. "I think that's one of the reasons he likes his hair long is so that it will de-emphasize his nose."

"It would bring out his eyes," says Ellen. "His eyes are his best feature."

"He tries to hide behind his hair," says Jean. "He tips his head and lets his hair fall forward so you can't see his face."

"Maybe that's why he doesn't let it get longer than his shoulders," I speculate. "If it was longer, it wouldn't drape the way he wants it to."

"I think that you're right," says Jean.

"Look." I point to Severus' neck. "That scar on his neck is gone."

"Is that why he always wears his collars so high?" asks Ellen.

"He was buttoned up to his chin when he was a first year," says Jean, tapping her lower lip with her index finger. "I think it is a personal preference as much as anything else. His pajamas probably have a turtleneck collar."

"The collars on his nightshirts come just under his Adam's apple," I remark. "I think all of his nightshirts are exactly the same style and color."

"Really?" says Jean, exchanging looks with Ellen. "I think a girl talk session is called for."

"Definitely," replies Ellen. "We'll have to schedule something for next week when things get a little more sane."

"I'd be in favor of that," I reply. I still have a list of questions about oral sex that I'd like some advice about. Asking right now when Severus is still unconscious and we have more funerals to go to would be unseemly. It is so nice that Jean and Ellen don't object to my relationship with Severus. It is great to have other women to talk to about things I would never discuss with Ginny or Molly. I couldn't ever discuss having sex with Professor Snape with Ginny. I'm not sure I could talk about oral sex with Molly and still look Arthur in the eye.

"So, have we decided if he should grow his hair back or not?" asks Jean, hands on her hips.

"I'd miss running my hands through his hair," I reply, thoughtfully. "It's up to him. I could get used to running my hands over his scalp, especially with his skin being so soft."

"I'll bet it's just like a newborn baby's bottom," sighs Jean. "It's a big relief to see him looking a whole lot better."

"He'll just have to be careful," says Ellen. "His new skin will be delicate and he'll have to be careful with shaving or being outdoors."

"Delicate?" says Jean, thinking out loud.

"No practical jokes or teasing," scolds Ellen. "He's off limits for now."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jean demurs. "When he's able to defend himself, it's a totally different thing."

I'm not sure I like the sound of that.

"Besides," she continues, "I have to get back to Hogwarts. At the moment, I'm temporary Head of House for Slytherin."

"Really?" I ask. "How is that going?"

"Minerva asked me to fill in for Severus," says Jean. "Right now, the House is an emotional train wreck. One third of the Slytherins come from Death Eater families or sympathizers. Some of those kids are dealing with family members who are dead or under arrest. They consider Professor Snape to be the biggest traitor since Judas Iscariot and would like to reenact the crucifixion with a different main character. On the opposite end, one third considers Severus to be the biggest hero on the planet and have practically started a fan club.

"The other third are somewhere in the middle and are being pulled in all directions. I've brought in Blaise Zabini to help me get the House through until Saturday morning without breaking out into open warfare. He knows all of them, except the first years, and knows who is affiliated with whom.

"Pomona, Filius, Minerva and I are planning to be on board the Hogwarts Express when it leaves on Saturday morning. We aren't going to trust the students to be without teacher supervision until they are back in the hands of their own families."

"Severus isn't going to be well enough to leave St. Mungo's until Friday at the earliest," Ellen announces. "Even then, he shouldn't return to Hogwarts until he is back on his feet and able to deal with whatever might come along. I'm thinking of installing him at headquarters where he'll have a nice thick blanket of Fidelius to protect him."

"Headquarters is an excellent idea," I declare. "I can take care of him there. In another day or two, I should be pretty much back to normal."

My head is filling with all kinds of ideas for ways to help Severus feel considerably better.

With Voldemort and his worst Death Eaters incarcerated, headquarters might be rather empty.

Privacy plus Bedroom. Add together, stir until blended, results in Action.

Assuming Severus is feeling up to it.

I'd giggle out loud except that Jean and Ellen would know exactly what I'm thinking.

I realize that Jean and Ellen are exchanging meaningful glances again.

They figured out what I was thinking.

"He's not to overexert," instructs Ellen, sternly.

I put on my best prim and proper expression.

"That means exactly what you think it means," she adds, even more sternly.

"I promise not to take advantage of his weakened condition," I reply, sounding as much like an utterly repressed maiden aunt as I can.

"He's a guy," snorts Jean. "He'll put every last bit of energy he's got into particular kinds of activities, even if he hurts himself in the process. It'll be up to you to make sure his Healer's advice is followed."

"I expect you to be the one with will power," orders Ellen. "Otherwise, I'll tell Molly and then you'll end up being chaperoned."

Drat. The last thing I want is to have Molly hovering over us. We'd be lucky to get in a snog in a corner of the cellar, let alone in Severus' bedroom.

"I wouldn't let Severus do anything that would set back his recovery," I sniff. I think a change of subject is called for. "Any idea how long before he'll wake up?"

"Sometime in the next few hours," says Ellen.

"In that case," says Jean, "I really need to leave for Hogwarts while Slytherin is still standing. Mike is going to be on duty this evening with Severus."

"And Mark will take over at midnight," says Ellen. "Roger will be back in the morning."

"If Limnoreia lets him out of bed," snickers Jean.

"There is that," laughs Ellen.

"I'll be here with Severus when he wakes up," I state. "One of the Weasleys will come and get me sometime this evening."

"If you're still feeling well tomorrow morning," instructs Ellen, "you can Apparate here, as long as one of the Weasleys monitors things at their end in case of splinching."

"Good," I reply, gratefully. "It will be much easier for everyone if I don't have to do a side-along Apparition everywhere I go.

We rejoin Mike in the hallway.

"Severus is doing fine," says Jean, giving Mike a hug. "You wouldn't believe how beautiful his skin is."

"It makes sense that magically regrown skin would be in good shape," says Mike. "Kind of removes the wear and tear factor."

"Did Roger and Limnoreia leave?" asks Ellen, looking up and down the hall.

"They left five minutes ago," says Mike, leaning forward and talking softly. "Confidentially, I think they ducked into the cleaners' cupboard by the lift."

"I hope the house-elves don't burst in on them," observes Ellen, shaking her head. "And they had better use sanitizing spells after."

"If Roger comes to you complaining of back problems," says Jean, smirking, "we'll know how he got them."

"I wouldn't be surprised if both of them hurt themselves with their adventures in athletic sex," says Ellen, shaking her head. "Did you see that trapeze thing they transfigured in their room when we were all in Chicago?"

"I thought it was inspirational, myself," offers Mike.

"Don't get your hopes up," snarks Jean, affectionately. "I'm flexible, but not up for gymnastics."

I can't believe I'm hearing this. I just smile in all the right places and go along with it before they decide I'm too young to know about the sex lives of grown-ups.

* * *

Early Evening

_"Colonel Brandon's character," said Elinor, "as an excellent man, is well established." _

_"I know it is," replied her mother seriously, "or after such a warning, __I__ should be the last to encourage such affection, or even to be pleased by it. But his coming for me as he did, with such active, such ready friendship, is enough to prove him one of the worthiest of men." _

_"His character, however," answered Elinor, "does not rest on __one__ act of kindness, to which his affection for Marianne, were humanity out of the case, would have prompted him. To Mrs. Jennings, to the Middletons, he has been long and intimately known; they equally love and respect him; and even my own knowledge of him, though lately acquired, is very considerable; and so highly do __I__ value and esteem him, that if Marianne can be happy with him, I shall be as ready as yourself to think our connection the greatest blessing to us in the world._ "

She pauses in her reading and I open my eyes. It was so comfortable to lie here with my eyes closed and just listen to her voice. It seems to me that I have been listening to Hermione for hours, reading aloud. I have never felt more peaceful in my life.

How odd that she has chosen my mother's favorite book.

How odd that my head feels cold.

"Severus?" whispers Hermione.

I open my mouth to answer and find that my throat is parched. I cough and Hermione holds a glass of water with a straw so I might drink.

Better.

"I'm going to send Ellen a message that you're awake," says Hermione, with a smile so bright one would think that sunshine had just burst through a thunderstorm. She puts down the glass and sends her otter to Ellen.

Perched on the edge of my bed, Hermione leans down and whispers.

"You're going to be all right. I'm all right. The Dark Lord is a prisoner in the cellar of Chester Sommersby's house. The Death Eaters are broken. I love you."

She kisses the corner of my mouth. Memories of the battle and seeing her unconscious and floating before Molly flood my mind. Something about Ima LeDrox, Narcissa and what seemed like pints of blood everywhere. Excruciating pain and darkness.

I am alive.

"I love you."

I angle my head, ignoring how peculiar it feels. My hand reaches up and catches in the glorious tangle of her hair. I draw her closer and kiss Hermione with all of the strength I have.

Which is not much to speak of, but will do for now.

"I love you," I whisper in response. "We are alive."

"Yes, we are," she whispers back. I close my eyes and lose myself in the warmth of her lips against mine.

We are alive. I love her. We won. Elation.

"Ahem."

I would recognize that sound anywhere. Ellen.

"I thought we agreed we would not over excite the patient?"

"I did not agree to any such thing," I remark. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I croaked it out.

"You didn't disagree at the time it was discussed, so I'm taking that as your consent," says Ellen, implacable in her illogic.

Hermione does not look the least embarrassed as she rises from the bed. She winks and Ellen does not see.

Ellen's wand is already at work. She is reading symbols and numbers that appear over my body. Next, I am to hold out my hands. She takes each one in turn and I am to squeeze her hand. Close my eyes. Open my eyes. Blink. Frown. Smile. Pucker my lips. Wrinkle my forehead. Stick out my tongue. Yawn as widely as I can. Ellen passes her hand gently over my head.

That does not feel right. I am missing my…

"Hair?"

It comes out in a burst of surprise.

"It's gone for now," says Ellen, businesslike. "We'll grow it back next week, unless you prefer a new look. Your have a nicely shaped head."

"What happened?"

"Do you remember what happened in the solarium?" asks Ellen, gently.

"The glass from the windows exploded," I remember pain as shards of glass peppered my back.

"You already had a shoulder wound from LeDrox," coaches Ellen. "The glass shattered and you took quite a bit in your back, legs, and arms."

"She attacked Narcissa," I murmur. There was a rank odor and an obscene amount of blood.

"Entrail Expelling Curse," says Ellen, finishing the thought for me.

"I tried to get the Virgo Curato into her blood stream," I say, starting to panic.

"You succeeded," says Ellen, quickly. "Narcissa Malfoy is alive."

Hermione comes to the other side of the bed and reaches for my hand. She gazes at me and squeezes it in a reassuring manner.

"You did exactly the right thing by spelling it into her blood," clarifies Ellen. "Given that the Entrail Expelling Curse was involved, you couldn't put it into her digestive tract and have any hope of it working. Even a fraction of the dose, put directly into her bloodstream, has been keeping her alive.

"Do you remember what happened after that?" she asks.

"Pain," I whisper. "I do not believe I have ever known such pain."

"That's over, now," says Hermione, softly, looking distressed. "You're going to be fine."

"But, what was it?" I ask.

"We don't exactly know," explains Ellen, gently. "LeDrox used wanded nonverbal magic. We don't know what she invoked or cast, but it flayed your skin. It started with your head and moved to your neck. We may never know if the spell was intended to flay you alive or remove your head."

I take in a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

"My best guess is that the spell was tied to LeDrox in a very personal way," says Ellen. "According to the description of what happened when you were hit, LeDrox was on a spelling spree. She was casting nonverbal Avada Kedavras and Merlin knows what else on anything that moved. Lucius Malfoy stopped her with an Avada Kedavra of his own after she took down three Aurors. When she died, the action of the spell on your skin stopped. Jean managed to pour a vial of the Virgo Curato into your mouth and you swallowed enough that the healing began immediately."

I look at Hermione and realize that I am clutching her hand. She reaches with her free hand and strokes my scalp, soothingly.

Ima took my betrayal personally. She used something on me that would continue as long as she lived. She must have decided that she could not escape alive, so she was letting me know that that her vengeance against me was entirely personal, unlike those Aurors. She could just have easily killed me with one of those nonverbal Avada Kedavras.

"LeDrox could not have known that you had the Virgo Curato available to you," says Ellen. "You would have died without it."

"It's a good thing we made it," says Hermione, her hand gentle against my skin. "You and I ended up being two of the three who needed it the most."

"Your skin has grown back completely," says Ellen. "The muscles and tissues of your face have regenerated and I see no sign of nerve damage. If anything, your skin is in perfect condition. The scar on your neck has disappeared. As a matter of fact, some of the scar tissue on your back from previous injuries disappeared when the Virgo Curato healed the cuts from the glass. I wish my skin looked as good as yours does, right now."

Even without a mirror, I can believe that my skin is unblemished and as fine as my mother's.

The Virgo Curato works.

It is a reflection of the love I feel for Hermione and that she feels for me. For the first time since I was twelve years old, I feel as if I belong to someone. That feeling of security that I lost so many years ago.

Girly skin. That is what Sirius Black would have said if he were here. Snivellus has girly skin.

Perhaps I do, but I have something that with all of his money and privilege, Black never had.

Living proof of love.

As real as a child created by two people through the act of love.

For the rest of my life, I will have living proof that Hermione loves me. It will be in the form of missing scars. Dare I hope that my skin will not be quite so oily?

"Hermione," I whisper, drawing her down so that she is sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm here," she says, softly with a warm light in her eyes. "I'll always be here."

"We shall have a Claiming ceremony, soon," I tell Ellen as I gaze at Hermione. "I hope that you will come."

"Just let me know when and where," she replies, smiling.

* * *

I must look ridiculous.

The Mediwizard is hovering the armchair I am sitting in down the hallway. Hermione has transfigured a towel into a bathrobe with a hood, which is pulled over my bald head. She is walking beside me as I float along.

Having seen my face in a mirror, I bear a disconcerting resemblance to a certain Dark Lord. My face and head are hairless. His face and head are hairless.

At least I have a nose and ears, my eyes are not red, my skin is not flaking off and my head does not come to a point. Nonetheless, I do not wish to be seen without even so much as an eyebrow to call my own.

Lucius is standing in the doorway. He looks terrible.

For a man who has always prided himself on keeping an immaculate appearance under all circumstances, he looks like he has been stomped on by a troll.

Well, a small troll with soft shoes and a light tread.

His clothes have that faded look that comes with repeated use of cleansing charms instead of a good laundering. His usually perfect hair is lank. Unless I am mistaking the signs, his perfectly manicured nails look as if he may have bitten them short. He confessed to me once that it was a habit he broke before he went to Hogwarts.

Lucius' face is a mask.

He uses that particularly cold look whenever he is seething with emotion.

"Severus," he says, with a bow. "You look much improved over the last time I saw you."

He is hiding behind formality.

"I feel considerably better than the last time you saw me," I reply, trying to communicate my concern for him through my eyes. I do not know how effective my facial expressions are without eyebrows to emphasize them. There is much that he and I will not say to each other in the presence of company.

He raises an eyebrow. I believe he understands.

"You have met Miss Granger?" I remark.

"I believe we met on the battlefield," he replies, turning his attention to Hermione. "It was gracious of you to hand me a Happy-Sleepy orb, Miss Granger. The moment that I smashed it on the former Dark Lord has become a most happy memory for me."

"I'm very glad you hit him square on, Mr. Malfoy," replies Hermione, looking a little nervous. "I have heard he now spends his time gibbering like an idiot."

"Then, he has fulfilled his potential," remarks Lucius, richly sarcastic.

Lucius steps aside and the Mediwizard hovers me through the door. I see Draco, standing by the bedside. His face lights up with hope when he sees me.

"Severus," says Draco, "I'm glad you're awake."

"So am I," I reply. "How is your mother?"

"Asleep," he replies, as if he is uncertain.

Ellen bustles into the room behind me and takes charge. The Mediwizard hovers the chair so I am next to the bed.

Narcissa looks like every drop of blood has been drained from her body. If it were not for the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest, I would think she was dead.

"Ellen?" I ask, raising my eyes to meet hers.

"We have been spelling blood and nutritional fluids directly into her veins," says Ellen, calmly. "She is alive and there is activity in her brain. We won't know if there is permanent damage until the full dose of the Virgo Curato has a chance to work. The small amount she received before you were hit with Ima LeDrox's curse has kept her alive and her organs functioning at a minimal level."

Hermione reaches up and draws a chain from around her neck. At the end is a glass vial pendant. She unclasps the chain and holds it up so that everyone can see the clear emerald green liquid inside. Sliding it free from the chain, Hermione hands it to me. It is warm from the contact with her skin. I wrap my fingers around it, reaching out with my free hand to take Narcissa's.

Her hand is cold.

Hermione's hand on my shoulder is warm.

"Narcissa," I whisper into her ear. "You are as dear to me as if you had been born my sister. This is the Virgo Curato, made by me and the woman I love. Let it heal you, so that you may return to all of us."

I place the vial in her hand and close her fingers around it.

The Mediwizard moves the chair back so Ellen can stand next to Narcissa. She opens Narcissa's hand, taps the vial with her wand and chants the spell in Latin.

The emerald green liquid in the vial vanishes.

Ellen nods. The full dose of the Virgo Curato has moved into Narcissa's bloodstream.

I look at Lucius and Draco, standing somber and grim with worry at the end of Narcissa's bed.

We have done all that we can.

"Now, we wait," says Ellen.

* * *

Author's Notes

The quote is from chapter 45 of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

Thank you to Julia for suggesting St. Giovanni Bosco as a suitable name for the largest wizarding church in the United Kingdom. He is unofficially considered to be the patron saint of magicians.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Persevero, Princessfiona, Yasmin, KarenDetroit, Pickles87, Jade2099, MissPrincess1989, Machshefa, Mother of Tears, o0morgana0o, Karla Manatee, Squeaker19450, Klschmidt, Lyndie578, Droxy, Darque Hart, Ginnilini, Brillant, Magicdaisy, Kcole, Mrsdan, Laurenke1, Padslet, TXwitchywoman, Lonelygirl54, CharmedForce, She is brighter, Pirra, Keske, T wrecks, Rinny08, Sweetrose9864, Lady Slone, KellyRoxton, Ceralyn, Angel-65, 7differentdoors, Clever Lass, Blackeyedlily, Notwritten, Snapeygirl, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Maddie50, MamaJMarie, Lovethelab, Blue artemis, Shadow, GiggleGinny, Rebecca, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Andi-Scribbles, Duj, Koliber, Graynavarre, Oscarxena, Ginz.x, Mini-Mooney, Seth7, Fatalani-Zabini, Missbluejuju, Quiet-mg, Sugarsnape, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Teddy240b, Erytha, Sopor, Trulyamused, Belas, Evil-mastermind666, MollysSister, Not So Chicken Little, Excessivelyperky, Stephanie Chavers, Nutters4potter, SpSt, Tofulove, Arime Setta, Walk.in.the.rain, Yapyap, Serenity4riku, MoreThanSirius, and Hgelman.


	105. Chapter 105

I will never own it. Which is unfortunate.

Thank you to Julia for your input into this story. I hope that everyone at home gets well soon. Jocemum gave her input into the medical aspects of this story and there are others who will be thanked later.

MamaJMarie is due any day, now. Let's all wish her well.

* * *

June 26th, 1999  
Severus

"Adrian's family refused to claim his body," sighs Draco.

"The Puceys are idiots," says Lucius. "They are ignoring the reality that their world is changing. Adrian Pucey died a hero's death on the winning side of the war against Lord Voldemort. They could have used their loss to distance themselves from the losing side."

"We can say his name without having him eavesdrop on us," I remark. "That alone speaks to how much the world has changed." I pause and mull over a thought. "Is it possible that the Puceys are true believers in the Dark Lord's cause? After all, they were willing to hand their daughter over to him. Perhaps they intend to continue to ally themselves with the remaining Death Eaters and sympathizers in the hope that the Dark Lord will escape."

"If that's the case," says Draco, "they are in for a big disappointment. Once Voldemort is moved to Azkaban, the free Death Eaters won't be able to get anywhere near him."

Lucius is too dignified to roll his eyes. He twitches the corner of his mouth instead.

"It is, of course, impossible to break out of Azkaban," he says, snidely.

Draco shrugs. "I'd like to think that the Ministry is going to take extra care this time, given that the Dark Lord is actually in their custody and without magic."

"We know full well that as long as Lord Voldemort lives, there will be those who will rally to his cause," I state. "There are true believers out there and some of them work for the ministry."

"Roger and Limnoreia are at Azkaban this morning," says Draco. "They are inspecting the cell that has been constructed for the Dark Lord. I'm sure that if they see any security issues, they'll say something."

I shake my head. For all the effort we put into capturing and securing Tom Riddle, the Ministry could still manage to bungle the whole business. Once installed in Azkaban, the Order will no longer have any say in his security. Even if Voldemort has no magic, he still has followers.

Ima LeDrox was a true believer. She waited from the time Voldemort fell in 1981 until he summoned her to England in 1999. Pettigrew lived under cover as a rat until he could find Voldemort again. There are Death Eaters and sympathizers who will believe that the Dark Lord will return. The only question is how long they will wait before making some kind of move.

"Dumbledore says that he is going to work on figuring out exactly what Riddle did to make himself immortal," says Draco.

"Given that Riddle is a prisoner and can be studied in detail, that may be more feasible than in the past," I remark.

There is a sound from the bed as Narcissa turns her head.

Lucius sends a silver message to Ellen. She wanted us to let her know when Narcissa started to move in her sleep.

"That's a good sign," says Draco. "Isn't it?"

"According to Healer Smith," says Lucius, "it means that your mother is entering a new stage of healing."

The vigil over Narcissa has continued without pause for two days. Of all of us, her injuries were the most severe and her healing is taking the longest.

"Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow," says Draco, his voice full of hope.

"Perhaps Sunday," I suggest.

There is a brief courtesy knock on the door. It swings open without waiting for our response. Ellen and a Mediwitch enter. Draco and I are hustled out of the room so that she can give Narcissa a thorough examination.

Albus is standing guard in the hallway.

"How is she doing?" he asks.

"Better," replies Draco. "She moved."

"That is very good news," says Albus. "When Ellen and the Mediwitch went rushing in, I was concerned."

Given the number of Order members and Aurors who have been coming to this ward, a few chairs have gathered in the hallway outside of Narcissa's room. I sit down in the one next to Albus. Just being out of bed and moving around on a limited basis is tiring me out.

"You are definitely looking more like yourself," announces Albus. "The eyebrows make a world of difference."

I glare at him from under the hood of my bathrobe.

"See," he points out to Draco. "That look is so much more effective with eyebrows."

They are both smiling at me fondly.

Fondly!

Merciful Merlin, have I been so reduced by my convalescence that my patented Glare of Death has so little effect?

"Draco!" calls an unfamiliar, but feminine voice from down the hallway.

Before Albus and I can challenge the intruder, Draco is running down the hallway where he is met halfway by a petite brunette accompanied by a dark skinned woman of Amazonian proportions. Draco lifts the girl off her feet and twirls her around. She wraps her legs around him and they engage in a fit of public snogging that ought to have the two of them arrested.

"Would that be Mr. Schuler's daughter?" asks Albus

"I hope so," I reply.

The two of them disengage and walk hand in hand up the hallway towards us, followed by the Amazon.

It is good to see Draco looking so happy after all that he has been through.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, I'd like to introduce Anita Schuler," says Draco, sounding cheerful for the first time in days.

"I have met your parents, Miss Schuler" says Albus, in full twinkle mode. "They had a tour of Hogwarts and we discussed some other business."

"Ever since they returned, my mother has been talking about how amazing the castle is," replies Miss Schuler, happily." "I think she's decided that she wants her next skyscraper to have a Room of Requirement in it."

"If anyone could manage it," says Albus, "Your mother is probably the architect who could."

"You haven't met Laketha, yet," says Draco, waving the tall woman forward. "This is Laketha Jones, a special security agent for Digital Magic."

Pleased to meet yous and such are exchanged. She is looking at me in a speculative way, wondering what is beneath the hood.

At least I have eyebrows again, even if I have not yet needed to shave. Ellen says by tomorrow my beard and hair will start growing again. Meanwhile, the hood of this bathrobe will stay firmly in place. I had Hermione add a small sticking charm so that no one can remove it, except me. Some of my friends have had unanticipated and inappropriate impulses to rub my bald head.

"It was really nice of Harry Potter to call me after the battle was over," says Anita, bubbling over as she looks up at Draco. "He told me about your mother being hurt and that you wouldn't be able to go anyplace where a cell phone would work for a few days. It took a lot of talking to my parents, but I finally persuaded them to let me come here. Laketha and Keiko Takahashi are here with me. Mom is convinced that unless I have bodyguards, I'll be kidnapped by rampaging Death Eaters."

"I do not believe things are quite as dire as that," offers Albus. "There is no doubt that there are Death Eaters and sympathizers out there whose identities are unknown. They should be in sufficient disarray that we are unlikely to see them taking any action for a while. Rampaging is unlikely."

"Which is why Albus Dumbledore is standing guard outside of Narcissa Malfoy's sick room?" challenges Ms. Jones.

"Simply a precaution," replies Albus, airily.

The door to Narcissa's room opens and the Mediwitch steps through. She retrieves what looks like a nutritional potion and steps back inside.

Draco and Anita take the opportunity to sit in the waiting room for a chat. Laketha Jones stations herself outside the door. Albus and I continue waiting.

There is noise at the end of the hallway and Albus and I quietly draw our wands, just in case.

It appears unnecessary as we see Filius and Pomona come around the corner, followed by Minerva, Bill, Jean, Mike, Mark, Blaise Zabini and Colin Creavey. As they pass by the waiting room, they seem to have attracted Draco's attention, because he and Anita join them.

Much to my delight, I do believe that Mr. Zabini is carrying the House Cup.

In short order, Albus and I are inundated by Hogwarts staff.

I am subjected to an inordinate amount of patting about my person and no less than a public hug from Minerva. Fortunately, I am in a tolerant mood and allow a moment or two of it so that all may reassure themselves that I am recovering. I am less open to Minerva's suggestion that I take down the hood and allow my full head to be seen.

Fortunately, my glare is fully effective since I grew eyebrows, yesterday. The patting has stopped and I believe I have effectively communicated my desire to keep the hood in place.

"We are here to make an official presentation of the House Cup to Slytherin's Head of House," announces Minerva, rolling her eyes at me.

"You should have seen it last night," calls Mr. Zabini, over the heads of the others. "Everyone was cheering for you when Professor Lamb accepted it on your behalf. She gave this great speech about House unity being more important than House rivalry."

"It _is_ more important," says Jean, coloring just a bit. "I just pointed out that it took wizards and witches from all Houses and even different nations and cultures to bring down Lord Voldemort. It took teamwork."

"She pointed out that there is no 'I' in teamwork," squeaks Filius.

Now, Jean is really blushing. She looks at me sheepishly.

"I didn't exactly have time to prepare something, so I was talking off the cuff," she says. "I could have done better if I had thought about it ahead of time."

"There were a few disgruntled students," says Minerva, in a confidential whisper. "They were from all Houses, not just yours. Overall, the response was positive."

"How did it go on the Hogwarts Express?" asks Albus, quietly.

"A few minor hexing incidents," replies Minerva, in her hushed voice. "Having the teachers on board kept things under control."

"It would have been far worse if the teachers had not been there," I reply, confidently.

"Tensions are running high," says Minerva, still whispering. "The students who had family members on the wrong side of the battle were being targeted. I am relieved that they are all in the hands of their families and that we have the whole summer for feelings to cool."

"Have all of you decided when we will hold a suitable remembrance for Rolanda?" asks Albus.

"We thought we would hold our end of term tea party in a few weeks when both of you are able to join us," replies Minerva. "Since you are not supposed to come to Hogwarts, Aurora has offered her home for the event. The consensus among the staff is that we should ask the Board of Governors' approval to name the Quidditch House cup in her honor."

"I believe Rolanda would be pleased," I comment. A suitable remembrance for Rolanda would involve hard drinking, raucous laughter, and the telling of many raunchy stories. I shall miss the old harridan. On more than one occasion, her stories have caused me to inhale my tea up my nose to keep from spraying it in laughter. She was particularly fond of shocking me, which is no easy thing to do to a former Death Eater.

Colin Creevy is setting up his camera to take photographs.

Albus sidles over to me and speaks softly so that only Minerva and I can hear him.

"I understand your reluctance to take down the hood and subject yourself to the close scrutiny that your shiny pate will certainly attract. Keep in mind that the Wizengamot will start their hearings next week and you will have regrown your hair by then. It may be in your best interest to allow a photograph now that shows part of the price you have paid for your involvement in the war. None of us allowed anyone to take photographs inside Malfoy Manor, given the condition you and Madam Malfoy were in. There will be testimony about the injuries both of you sustained at the hands of Ima LeDrox, but there is nothing quite like a photograph to make a point."

As much as I despise the idea of engaging in a public relations stunt at the price of my own dignity, Albus makes a point I must consider. I have no desire to have my activities of the last several years twisted around in a manner that might land me in Azkaban or facing other penalties. I have just gained my freedom from living a double life and I want my future to be in my own hands. I have Hermione and a future worth living for.

Albus has always been a master of manipulating the media. It was only during the time that Fudge was fighting with him tooth and nail that The Daily Prophet slipped outside of Albus' machinations.

Perhaps one photograph would be worth it. Sitting in my bathrobe, convalescing in what is obviously a hallway at St. Mungo's. It would make an important point.

Anyone who knows me would know that I am reluctant to have my photo taken under any circumstances. Given my current physical status, I would prefer not to appear vulnerable. However, vulnerable might win me points with the Wizengamot.

This would not be for anyone I know. This would be for the general public and a group of politicians.

Who am I trying to deceive? I have taught Potions at Hogwarts for almost twenty years. Practically every British witch and wizard between the ages of thirty-five and eleven has been my student. All of the other British witches and wizards have listened to them complain about having me as a teacher.

Much of wizarding Britain knows me. If not by acquaintance, then by reputation.

I am known to be cantankerous. Obstinate. I prefer shadows to the bright spotlight.

I do like being dramatic. I invented a charm so that my robes would billow as I walk.

Bald is dramatic. Startling. It does make a point that I have been badly injured. Hermione and Ellen said that my head is not oddly shaped. Hermione even implied that it might be attractive.

This is my choice. One photo. Maybe two. Strictly for the purpose of setting the record straight.

I reach up and draw back the hood.

Conversation around me stops.

Albus is smiling. Minerva looks startled. Jean winks. Draco hides his grin behind his hand. Zabini looks at me shrewdly. Filius and Pomona stare at me in surprise.

It is a Slytherin decision. I do so love being a Slytherin.

"Coo, Professor," says Creevy, impressed. "You look wicked harsh."

"Then, let us get this over with," I announce. "As pleased as I am to see that Slytherin has won the House Cup, this is a hospital and we are disturbing the peace.

So we arrange ourselves. Albus steps carefully out of the scene and stands with Draco, Mike Lamb, Miss Schuler and her keeper.

I sit in the chair at the front of the grouping. Minerva stands beside me, holding the House Cup. The others gather behind and beside us. I hold up my hands and we hold the House Cup together. I believe my expression is suitably serious and just this side of grim.

One flash. A second flash just to ensure that one of the photos will be acceptable.

There. I have pandered to the prurient interests of the masses long enough. One photo should be sufficient to establish the degree of my injury. A newly grown face and scalp, flawless and hairless.

I draw the hood back up over my head.

* * *

"Madam Malfoy is showing steady improvement," declares Ellen, waving farewell to the Hogwarts delegation as they depart. Only Albus, Minerva, and Jean remain. Draco, Anita, and her escorts have departed for the Malfoy's London townhouse. Lucius is still with Narcissa.

I will confess that I am grateful Ellen shooed them on their way. I am tiring and was about to tell the lot of them to go away and let me rest. I believe I shall return to my bed and sleep.

"That is very good news," says Minerva. "I will grant that I was not there, but what happened to her and what happened to you, young man, sounded utterly horrifying."

"It was," confirms Jean, her face shadowed

Minerva turns to Albus.

"The next time _you_ decide to retire without giving me more than three minutes notice, I am going to hex you," she says, poking Albus on the arm for emphasis.

"Those events happened rather quickly," says Albus, sounding rather unapologetic. "I had no time to discuss it with anyone when Amelia Bones came storming in. If you think you are annoyed with me, talk to Poppy."

"I have and it is the only reason I did not send you Howlers followed by a personal visit," demurs Minerva. "She is angry enough at you for both of us."

"She is not ready to retire," says Albus. "I am hoping that she will consider making an honest man of me and I can take a house in Hogsmeade so that she will be close to the school."

"Take the house in Hogsmeade anyway," suggests Minerva with a sniff. "If she is not ready to retire, I am confident that she will spend time with you when she can."

"Should have married her fifty years ago," Albus grumbles to himself. "Wouldn't be having all this trouble, now."

I, for one, am not averse to appreciating Albus' newly complicated life. Merlin knows, he has complicated my life enough times.

"The difficulties of your personal life aside," dismisses Minerva, "I have a school to run and I need to return to complete the end of the year reports."

"I shan't be missing those anytime soon," remarks Albus, gloating.

"Humph," replies Minerva, irritated.

"Where's Hermione?" asks Jean in a none too smooth attempt to change the subject.

"Hermione and Molly are at headquarters," says Ellen. "They are getting it cleaned up and restocking the food supplies so that Severus can leave St. Mungo's and stay there for a week or two until he's back to full functioning."

"Really?" says Jean, curious. "Why isn't Dobby taking care of it?"

"Harry persuaded Dobby to agree to be hired by Draco on a temporary basis," explains Albus. "Draco is employing him to liaise between the Malfoy house-elves and the Ministry, because Malfoy Manor is being treated as a crime scene. Because Dobby is a free elf, he is more accustomed to making decisions about his own actions without directions from a master."

"Pudding, the house-elf who supervised the Manor's house-elves, was killed by LeDrox when he tried to hide Narcissa," I explain. "Since Lucius has not returned to the Manor since Narcissa was brought here, the lines of house-elf succession have not been clarified and apparently things were in disarray. Draco has left Dobby to be more or less in charge. When Lucius is able to return to the Manor, he will rearrange things to suit himself and Dobby will return to the Order's employ."

"Dobby was a Malfoy house-elf at one time, wasn't he?" asks Ellen.

"Lucius accidentally freed him when Harry tricked him into handing Dobby a sock," announces Albus, proudly. "It was one of Harry's cleverer maneuvers."

"And earned him a one-elf fan club for life," adds Minerva, chuckling.

"Did you hear that they found Nagini?" asks Ellen

"They did?" asks Minerva, surprised.

"She was located in a hollow in the property to the south of the Manor," replies Albus. "She was sleeping off a meal."

"I appreciated Harry coming by early this morning to tell me personally," comments Ellen. "Apparently Regina Woldscott, my former ward clerk and secret Death Eater, was the designated human sacrifice for Monday night. They did an analysis on the snake and identified the contents of its digestive tract."

"They better not have killed that snake in the process," says Jean, alarmed. "We need her venom to keep Voldemort alive."

"Nagini is alive and well," I reassure her. "Potter says that they are going to let the digestive process take its course and whatever is eliminated will be considered human remains and buried."

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard," says Minerva, horrified.

"They cannot risk harming Nagini by magically removing whatever remains are undigested," says Ellen, shaking her head. "As gruesome as the whole concept is, Voldemort has used Nagini's venom for years to keep himself alive. We need that snake to keep his shell going until we can find a way to kill his immortal core. Otherwise, he'll just escape again and we'll be doing this all over again in a few years."

"I can understand the reasoning behind the decision," replies Minerva, her hand to her throat. "It does not make it any less revolting."

We all nod in silent agreement.

Ellen is giving me a good looking over.

"You have been awake since very early this morning," says Ellen, giving me her best _I am the Healer and I am in Charge_ look. "I think you are due for some rest before Hermione arrives to take you to Headquarters."

"For once, I am disinclined to debate the issue," I admit, tiredly. "Since I am anxious to leave this fine establishment, I believe I shall comply with your instructions."

Minerva is taking this in with great attention.

"So, all I need to do is get Severus worn out and he will comply without argument?" she says, archly. "That is good to know."

"While all of you have a good laugh at my expense," I comment in a decidedly above it all tone, "I shall go and take a nap."

I rise to return to my hospital room. Much to my dismay, the whole lot of them are looking at me fondly again. When I am feeling entirely myself, I shall have to re-establish my standing with my friends and colleagues lest they think that I have mellowed or some such nonsense.

* * *

Feeling refreshed after a nap, I look for something to read.

Having run out of the medical journals that Ellen loaned me, I find myself reading the copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ Albus left in my room.

How do people read this romantic nonsense? Colonel Brandon seems to be the only one with any sense among these characters, regardless of the title. I snap the book closed with a huff and dig through the pile of journals to see which one is worth rereading.

There is a soft knock at the door. I hope it is Hermione.

"Enter," I announce.

Limnoreia sticks her head in the door.

"Can Jean and I come in?" she asks.

"Of course," I reply, setting aside the medical journal in the hope of having some good conversation.

"Albus has gone to look at houses in Hogsmeade," says Ellen, following Limnoreia into the room and closing the door behind her.

"Roger and I are on guard duty at the moment and I thought that this would be a good chance to talk to you without an audience," says Limnoreia.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, concerned about their expressions.

"Not exactly," says Jean. "We just thought we should tell you something before someone else does."

I believe my expression is rather alarmed, because the two women look at each other and seem to be debating who should speak first.

"This is about when you were hurt. You were so badly hurt," says Limnoreia, looking distressed.

"I must have looked like a creature from a nightmare with the skin flayed from my head," I comment, wanting to reassure them.

I am not offended if they found the sight revolting. I would find such a sight distressing in someone I knew. These two women are my friends and I find myself touched that they would be upset on my behalf.

"You did," says Jean, sitting down beside me. Limnoreia sits on the other side.

"Ellen had her hands full, at the time," says Limnoreia, grimacing. "Literally. The Virgo Curato had started working on Madam Malfoy and Ellen was trying to make sure that her intestines retracted back into her abdomen correctly and without dirt or glass getting mixed in."

Both women look green as they recollect that memory.

Jean swallows and composes herself.

"You needed help, too," she says. "Ellen encased your head and neck in a Bubble Charm to support it without letting it touch the floor or any of us. She decontaminated the exposed tissue and couldn't risk any debris getting in it."

"Your head was resting on Jean's lap when we realized that you had glass in the cuts on your back, arms and legs from when the windows of the solarium shattered," says Limnoreia.

"I saw some slivers of glass being pushed out of the back of your neck," says Jean. "We were worried that the glass was going to pop out of your skin and be stuck in your clothes and cut you all over again. We asked Ellen what to do."

"By that time, the room was full of Aurors and Order members," adds Limnoreia. "Dobby was there, trying to help. We had him get blankets and towels from the Malfoy house-elves."

"Ellen said that we should remove your clothes so we could get the glass away from your skin when it popped out," confesses Jean. "I vanished your clothes."

I believe I have retained my composure and kept my facial expression from revealing my shock.

"We thought it was better that Jean and I pick over your skin, rather than letting some total stranger do it," adds Limnoreia.

"Dobby brought the blankets and towels right away and we covered up everything important," says Jean. "I picked out the glass from everything I could reach, which was mostly your back and arms."

"I got the glass from below the waist," states Limnoreia, her cheeks turning pink.

My face feels flushed and I am certain that I am blushing.

"We were very careful," assures Jean, patting my hand. "No one got a free show."

I wonder if blushing reaches the top of my bald head? I must be scarlet by now.

"If it is any comfort," says Limnoreia, "Jean and I are in agreement that you have a very fine arse."

"As for other parts," declares Jean. "Hermione is a very lucky girl."

The two women nod solemnly in unison.

My blush must extend to my toes.

I cannot sit here in shocked silence.

They have seen my private parts. Two of my friends, who just happen to be women, have seen my scrawny naked self, including my private parts.

They do seem to feel that my private parts are somewhat exceptional if they think that Hermione is a lucky girl.

They are looking at me as if they are expecting shouting.

They deserve more than that.

I collect myself and mentally thrash about for a proper response.

"You helped me when I was helpless," I begin slowly. "I cannot fault you in any way for looking after my well-being and dignity as best you could under the circumstances. I appreciate that you did not allow strangers to tend me who would not have been as circumspect and might have left my wares on display for all to see."

All three of us breathe a collective sigh of relief.

I can live with Jean and Limnoreia having seen me naked and picking over my skin. It is far preferable than having Potter or another volunteer having done so.

"You're not angry?" asks Jean, just to clarify.

"No," I reply. "If anything, I am grateful."

I hope that will resolve the issue and it will never be brought up again. I intensely dislike the experience of blushing.

"In that case," says Jean, looking at me intently.

"In that case, what?" I ask, suspiciously.

"I've been lying to Hermione for days," says Jean. She nods towards Limnoreia who nods her head in return. "Both of us have. We've been telling her that you didn't look as bad as she has been imagining. I've told her twice that the Death Eaters who had their faces caved in by the BludgeSucker looked a lot worse than you did. That is an out and out lie and I'm glad she's not a Legilimens."

"They were dead," says Limnoreia, words tumbling out. "You were alive and your face was a bloody wreck and there was blood everywhere."

"My robes were stiff with your blood before it was done," whispers Jean.

I do not know what to say. I could not help my horrific appearance.

"Both of us have had nightmares about it," says Jean. "The whole thing is not your fault and we don't want you feeling guilty."

"I am sorry," I interject, "but, I do not know what I can do to help with that. Dreamless Sleep is useful on occasion, but it is habit forming."

Limnoreia places a hand on my shoulder.

"It helped considerably when we got to see you without bandages after your skin regenerated," she says. "Your skin is absolutely flawless, now. You don't have a single mark anywhere on your head or neck that shows how badly you were hurt."

"We want to touch your head," says Jean, sounding almost desperate. "I held your mangled head in my hands and poured Virgo Curato into what was left of your mouth. That's the memory I need to replace. I want to run my hands over that beautiful bald head of yours and feel that wonderful new healthy skin."

I am speechless.

I can believe that I have caused other people nightmares, before. Certainly my students could attest to that. But, these two women are colleagues. Although I knew Jean through our residence as students in Slytherin, I really came to know them best during the years when each of them taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

They are friends. When I think of them, it is with affection. That is a rare enough experience in my life.

I do not know what I looked like when Ima LeDrox spelled the skin off my face. I know enough about human anatomy to understand that it must have been a horrifying sight. If they are having nightmares about it that were partially relieved by seeing me with new skin on my face, it implies a degree of fondness.

I have been inundated with fondness of late. As long as it is not excessive, I do not mind it. It is rather reassuring to see that I have a place in the lives of the people I wish to associate with the most.

Does that equate with allowing Limnoreia and Jean to rub my bald pate?

It costs me nothing except my dignity for a short period of time. If it will reassure them that I am whole again, perhaps it will diminish the nightmares. I do owe them that.

I find myself nodding and pulling down the hood from my head.

Jean reaches up first and gently places her hand on my forehead. She smiles to herself as she runs her hand back to the base of my skull. It feels rather soothing.

"It's so smooth," she says, softly.

"It is," says Limnoreia, running her hand from my ear to my jaw. "It's like there are no pores."

"This skin hasn't spent twenty-five years bent over steaming cauldrons full of Merlin knows what," teases Jean, peering behind my ear.

"Have you decided if you are going to grow your hair back?" asks Limnoreia, running her thumb across my jawline.

"Ellen has said that she will attend to accelerating my hair regrowth next week," I reply.

"Does your head feel cold like this?" asks Jean.

"It does, at times," I reply, thinking. "It would be more of an issue in the dungeons at Hogwarts than it is here."

There is a tap on the door and Ellen enters before I can answer. She takes one look me sitting between Limnoreia and Jean having my head thoroughly petted and examined and starts to laugh. She quickly closes the door behind her.

"So, they talked you into it?" she says, grinning hugely.

"They said it would make them feel better," I reply, with great dignity.

By this time, both Limnoreia and Jean are sitting with their hands folded demurely on their laps. Jean has a look about her that I recognize. It is usually associated with her having persuaded or conned me into doing something I would not normally do.

She got me.

"It was very kind of you," says Ellen, smirking.

"I have a reputation for kindness," I comment with an equal smirk.

"Now that I have interrupted the love fest," says Ellen, "I wanted to warn all of you that Percy Weasley is here delivering summonses for the hearing before the Wizengamot. He spotted Roger first, which is no surprise since he is standing in the hallway. I can't keep him out, but I can overrule the Wizengamot as to how soon you or Narcissa can be required to appear. I can't help Lucius or Draco once Narcissa is off the critical list, which should be tomorrow or Sunday."

There is a more formal knock on the door, which we all presume to be Percy Weasley, insufferable bureaucrat. I pull the hood back up over my scalp.

Ellen opens the door. As expected, it is the stuffy Weasley. He looks surprised at the sight of my room occupied by myself and three women. He clears his throat and shuffles through a series of envelopes.

"I suspect you all know why I am here. I'll begin with Madam Lamb," he says, formally holding out an envelope with her name on it.

Jean takes it, graciously.

"Ms. Lovegood," says Weasley, turning to Limnoreia with her envelope.

Limnoreia takes it gingerly, as if he were holding out a newly hatched Acromantula.

"Professor Snape," he says, holding out my envelope.

I accept it with a bored look. I break the seal to open it. The date is set for June 29th, which is four days from now. I hand it to Ellen.

"This will not do," announces Ellen, once again using her best _I am in Charge_ tone. "Professor Snape will not be sufficiently recovered to appear before the Wizengamot by June 29th."

"If he is in need of a hover chair or other accommodations," replies Weasley, superciliously, "we would certainly be willing to provide them."

"Unacceptable," snaps Ellen. "In case you are unaware, Professor Snape is recovering from having the skin flayed off his head and neck, a deep wound to the shoulder, and he was impaled with hundreds of shards of glass. Thanks to the availability of a uniquely powerful healing potion, he is recovering but debilitated. I will not have his recovery jeopardized because the Wizengamot lacks the patience and consideration due to a war hero."

I allow myself to slouch with weariness.

Limnoreia looks worried. Jean is stifling laughter. Percy looks pale.

I suppose having the vapors would be overkill.

Percy looks at me as if I am likely to keel over at any moment.

"How soon do you think would be reasonable, Healer Smith?" he asks, sounding duly chastened.

"July 7th at the earliest," she declares. "Even then, I reserve the right to overrule the summons if I feel that he is not medically fit to testify so soon."

I believe I should be quite bored with convalescence by that time and able to hold my own in front of the Wizengamot.

"Of course, Healer Smith," replies Weasley. "I will have the summons revised and delivered to Professor Snape when he is released and returns to his home."

In that case, I may choose to spend the summer at headquarters. There is nothing quite like Fidelius to keep the Wizengamot's errand boys out of my hair. Assuming I have hair by then.

"That will be fine," I say, raising a weary hand. "I hope to be greatly improved by the time I return to Hogwarts."

I resist looking Ellen in the eye. She knows damn well that I am playing with Mr. Weasley.

"I hope so, sir," says Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley," I say, raising my head. It occurs to me that there is something I have not said.

He looks at me attentively.

"You are the first member of your family that I have seen since the battle," I state, sincerely. "Please express my condolences to your family for the loss of your brother. His sacrifice is one of the reasons that I am alive right now."

Suddenly, the unctuous bureaucrat is gone and the grieving older brother takes his place. Percy's eyes fill and he blinks a few times. He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes.

"Thank you, Professor," he says, genuinely sad. "I will pass that on to my parents and the rest of the family. I know that they're all hoping that you will recover completely."

He finishes by handing a summons to Ellen, which she accepts in a rather businesslike manner. She offers to escort him to Lucius Malfoy.

I sigh and lean back in the chair, suddenly weary again. I feel old.

* * *

"I have decided," declares Lucius, "that we shall accept Adrian Pucey's body and bury him in our family plot. He gave his life to save my family and we shall see to his final rest. Dumbledore may contact his sister and offer her a place to live with us. She will have the protection of our family, since her own has cast her off. She will be treated as a daughter of the house. His family are fools and dishonor themselves with their own stupidity."

"I think that is an excellent idea," says Draco, watching his mother. "We owe it to Adrian, especially given that his family has abandoned him and his sister."

"It will certainly emphasize where your family loyalties lie," I add.

Narcissa is sleeping peacefully. She has a bit of pink in her cheeks and looks much more like herself. Ellen thinks she will complete her healing sometime in the next thirty-six hours.

"I want you to make the contact with the Ministry this afternoon," Lucius instructs Draco. "Dumbledore will be back tomorrow for guard duty. I will discuss Miss Pucey with him then." Lucius shakes his blonde head. "The universe has indeed flipped and landed upside down. Albus Dumbledore regularly sits outside the door of my wife's sick room to guard the Malfoy family."

"The debts have piled high on this one," comments Draco.

"He has the time now that he is retired," I assure them. "He certainly has the reputation that will keep any stray Death Eaters away."

"What is the status of our affairs at the Manor?" asks Lucius.

"We're not going to be allowed back for at least another week," says Draco. "The London house is ready for Mother as soon as we can bring her home."

"Miss Schuler seems like a pleasant young woman," I remark, hoping to get some reaction from Lucius.

"Yes, she is," says Lucius, tiredly. "I am glad that she and her entourage agreed to stay at the townhouse. It is certainly more secure than any hotel."

"You do know that Ms. Takahashi and Ms. Jones will probably have all of the wards analyzed by the time we get home," suggests Draco.

"I would do the same, if our situations were reversed," says Lucius, dismissively. "They cannot touch the family wards."

"They aren't going to take down any wards," clarifies Draco. "If anything, they'll offer to add to them."

"No one outside of the family will add to our wards," says Lucius, emphatically.

Draco rises from his chair and crouches before his father. Lucius looks at him with surprise.

"Dad, why don't you go to the townhouse and get some sleep?" he says. "You've been here twenty-four hours a day and you're completely worn out. I'll stay here. Professor Littlehorse and Limnoreia Lovegood are standing guard. Between the three of us and the Auror at the end of the hallway, we can protect Mother. A decent meal and some sleep in your own bed would do you a world of good."

Lucius smiles at Draco, the kind of look in his eyes that reminds me why all of this has been worth it. There is such love in this family.

"I appreciate your offer, son," says Lucius, patting Draco's arm. "I will not leave this hospital until I can take your mother home."

"In that case," says Ellen, sweeping into the room without knocking, "you will be leaving very shortly."

The three of us are immediately on our feet, wands in hand.

"It's not that kind of a threat," says Ellen, "but it has become abundantly clear that Madam Malfoy is not secure here and it is imperative that she be taken where she will be safe."

"What has happened?" asks Lucius, his jaw working in a manner that reveals his anxiety.

"This morning, St. Mungo's took delivery of an order of the nutritional potion we have been feeding your wife," explains Ellen. "As a special precaution, before any potion is administered to Madam Malfoy, it is checked by me and at least two other trusted medical staff in the Curse Reversal Unit. Only after we all approve it is it administered to your wife and only by one of us. This most recent batch was tainted. I must assume that it was done deliberately in the hope of killing your wife."

"What was it tainted with?" I ask, gripping my wand angrily.

"Cursed essence of red clover blossoms," replies Ellen. "The curse was subtle and probably would not do significant harm to any of us if we consumed it. However, in Madam Malfoy's weakened condition, it would be fatal. That leads me to believe that it was tainted especially for her."

"They must have assumed that you were being less careful than you are," I comment, disconcerted.

"They must have realized that a frontal assault would not work, given the level of protection being provided by the Order," says Ellen. "They tried something more subtle. However, we are accustomed to being very careful in this unit. People who are cursed severely enough to end up here are often people who have enemies. Unfortunately, the rest of St. Mungo's is not as careful. Madam Malfoy is not the only person in this hospital who would have been given that nutritional potion. Fortunately, we discovered the problem before the potion was given to anyone."

"Thank Merlin for that," says Lucius, looking shaken. "We shall make immediate arrangements to move my wife to our London townhouse. It is the most secure of any of the residences available to us right now." He looks at Ellen. "Will you be coming with us?"

"I can't be there every minute until she wakes up," says Ellen, shaking her head. "I've simply too many other patients. I will contact Poppy Pomfrey. Now that the Hogwarts term is over, she may be willing to step in to provide for Madam Malfoy's direct care."

"Hermione or I will prepare any potions Narcissa will need," I offer.

"Excellent," says Ellen. "I'll prepare a list for Hermione, who by the way, is waiting out in the hallway to take you home," she says, nodding at me. "It will be just as well to have both of you out of here and into safe places."

"Dad, we should put the townhouse under Fidelius for the time being," says Draco, who looks like he is composing a mental To Do list.

"I should have thought of that myself," says Lucius. "Every Death Eater or sympathizer who does not already know where we live will make a point of figuring it out. We will need a Secret Keeper. Under other circumstances, I would ask Severus," he says as he looks at me. "You are still recovering and in danger yourself. I would not ask that of you until such time as you are well."

"Who can we ask?" questions Draco.

Lucius is thinking.

"I could ask Dumbledore, but he might be viewed as an obvious choice," says Lucius.

"That would make him a target, just like Severus would be," says Draco.

"You need someone trustworthy, capable of self defense, and someone who would seem an unlikely choice," I muse. A thought comes to me. "How much do you trust Professor Littlehorse?"

"Enough that I let him inside my head so that he could teach me the Navajo Occlumency," says Draco. "Enough that we let him take down the wards on the Manor."

"Hermione trusts him, too," I state emphatically.

Lucius starts to nod.

"Ask him to come in here," says Lucius, making one quick decision after another. "I will ask him to be our Secret Keeper. He is certainly able to defend himself and his mind is closed to invasion by others. You have said that he is trusted with the secret of the location of the Order's headquarters and he has access to the few people who would need to be able to come to the house."

"A good choice," I offer. "Who would suspect an American of being Lucius Malfoy's Secret Keeper."

"Absolutely no one," affirms Draco. "I'll go and get him."

"Severus," says Ellen, "I need to see you before you are discharged. If you will return to your room, I will be right there as soon as I send in the Mediwitch to get Narcissa ready for transfer."

We all comply with our instructions in a flurry of activity.

* * *

Roger has just agreed to be the Secret Keeper for the Malfoys. He is going to accompany them to their London townhouse and Limnoreia is going to assist with setting up the Fidelius charm. She has also agreed to assess the wards at the townhouse and reinforce them as needed.

According to Hermione, Keiko Takahashi is Digital Magic's security chief and Laketha Jones is one of her top agents. Given that they are staying at the townhouse with Anita Schuler, the Malfoy residence may very well be the most secure residence in Great Britain.

Ellen has determined that the safest way to transport Narcissa is by Apparition. Lucius will carry her as a side-along. Draco is taking Ellen with him. Limnoreia is familiar with the area in London where the townhouse is located and will take Roger with her.

Message Patroni have been sent to Poppy and Albus. Since Poppy does not Apparate, Albus is going to bring her to London and she will take up residence to care for Narcissa.

At my request, Hermione sent message Patroni to Remus and Jean, notifying them that we need to see them at headquarters as soon as possible. I have to tell them about the threat to the Malfoys.

I told Hermione that I am not yet strong enough to send out a Patronus. In truth, I cannot deal with the embarrassing fact that my Patronus has changed from a suitably masculine panther into Hermione's pet cat. When Nymphadora Tonks' Patronus changed into a wolf, I teased her mercilessly. Paybacks being what they are, I do not doubt that I would be on the receiving end of the same.

I do not know what I am going to do about this. During my convalescence, I shall endeavor to research the issue.

At the moment, Hermione is getting a comprehensive list of potions that Ellen wants brewed for Narcissa. Ellen is bringing enough with her for the next twenty-four hours. I agree with her strategy of making it publicly known that Narcissa has left St. Mungo's so that our enemies will stop endangering all of the patients housed here.

I have already been given a list of things that I may not do.

I did not think that Ellen would actually write down that I may not have sex for at least the next three days.

Then again, I am not surprised that Ellen would write it down. She has never lacked for assertiveness. She did not need to underline it three times for emphasis.

On top of that, Potter is here to do the side-along Apparition to headquarters. Ellen does not feel that Hermione should do it and I can tell that I am not strong enough to Apparate myself.

One embarrassment piled on top of another. I believe that when I get to headquarters, I shall take to my bed. Perhaps I could persuade Hermione to join me.

For a nap.

I suspect Hermione received a list similar to mine. With one particular item underlined three times.

And Molly will be there. It is more likely that I will win _Witch Weekly's_ annual most winning smile contest than share a bed with Hermione anytime soon.

* * *

"Thank you, Potter."

That came out more weakly than I would have liked. Having my molecules squeezed into whatever it is that we become when wizards Apparate has left me feeling like a wrung out mop and twice as limp. I need to give myself a moment before I tackle the walk from the backyard into the townhouse.

"You're welcome, Professor," says Potter. "It's a relief to have you and the Malfoys away from St. Mungo's. That place is a security nightmare."

I hear a pop behind me. Hermione has arrived.

She is the loveliest sight in the universe.

She is wearing her hair in that Gibson girl style that I like. The humidity is making the escaped wisps of hair curl and frame her face. If Potter were not here, I would kiss her.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Tired and very pleased to be here in one piece," I reply.

"Hey," says Potter, sounding wounded, "there's nothing wrong with my side-along skills."

"I was referring to being here in the cosmic sense," I reply, rolling my eyes. "That was very nearly not the case."

"Oh," he says, chastened. "Well. In that case, I guess I should get back to Malfoy Manor. I was cleaning up Greyback when Hermione messaged me to come to St. Mungo's and bring you here."

"Cleaning up Greyback?" interrupts Hermione, wincing.

"We started finding bits and pieces of him yesterday," Potter comments, casually. "A neighbor's dog brought home a foot. It took some Oblivates, but we cleared up that mess with the neighbor and the Muggle police. The dog has actually been helpful in locating his other parts."

"I take it there was some scatter of remains?" I inquire, morbidly curious.

"There was some _splatter_ of remains," quips Potter. "We've been finding pieces of him over the better part of an acre. I don't know what he hit on the way down or what Roger did to him, but it made a mess. I wonder if he shot a lightning bolt through him? It would explain why parts of him seem to be cooked. I'd have gathered him up a whole lot faster if I could just do _Accio Greyback_. The problem is that I'd get splattered with what is essentially rotting hamburger if I did."

Hermione looks thoroughly nauseated.

"We want to make sure we gather his bones and major parts," says Potter, conversationally. "We don't think any of the local wildlife will be magically altered by eating werewolf remains, but we sure don't want them dragging off parts that will be found by Muggles. We have retrieved his head, knee joints, and elbows. We haven't found all of the bones in his wrists or ankles. Those are distorted from Greyback being part werewolf all the time so we want to get them back, too."

"Urgh," says Hermione, making a very sour face. "Glamorous job you have there, Harry."

"The Aurors disabused Ron and I of that notion the first week we were apprentices," says Potter, sadly. He pauses and then smiles. "If Ron were here, I'd make him help me."

"You'd put him off his food for a week, if you did," says Hermione, smiling back.

"We always could make Ron gag, couldn't we," he comments. "It was one of my favorite pastimes."

The two of them smile at the memory of their friend. That is a good sign.

"Severus Snape!" calls Molly, opening the door to the kitchen. "Why are you letting them keep you outside when you should be in here having a hot supper?"

"An excellent question," I call back. "We should not keep you from your appointed duties, Mr. Potter, especially when a good meal awaits."

"Yeah," says Potter. "Just my luck that you get Molly's cooking while I'm on refuse detail." He gives Hermione a quick hug and departs.

There is no opportunity to kiss Hermione before Molly has me sitting at the dining room table and is serving up a healthy portion of her shepherd's pie. It smells like Molly has been baking banana bread and sends the most enticing aroma through the room. After days of hospital fare, this meal may actually bring back my appetite.

Molly peppers us with questions about the Malfoys and fills us in on the current status of the hearings before the Wizengamot. Since Percy has returned to the family fold, he has become a fount of information about aspects of the Ministry where Arthur does not have connections.

"Those articles in the Quibbler have been getting a lot of attention," says Molly. "The talk shows on the Wizarding Wireless have been discussing them for days. The Order members may not get the bum's rush in the way we thought when we first heard that the Ministry was trying to take credit for the Dark Lord's capture."

"The hearings are going to start next week, aren't they?" asks Hermione.

"Arthur is supposed to testify on Thursday," says Molly. "I'm grateful that I didn't receive a summons. I would be a nervous wreck."

"They may not have got to you, yet," I advise them. "Percy delivered summonses to several of us who were at St. Mungo's this morning. They wanted me to testify on Tuesday."

"That's ridiculous," declares Hermione, incensed.

"Ellen intervened," I assure her. "She immediately drafted letters to send with Percy, explaining that I would not be well enough until July 7th. She insisted on delays for Lucius and Narcissa, too."

"I hope the whole story about what Voldemort wanted from them doesn't have to come out before the Wizengamot," sighs Molly.

"I think it is inevitable," I reply. "We cannot explain the theft of the fertility potions or the kidnapping and murder of the witches without telling them that Voldemort wanted a new body."

"That means my personal business will be splashed all over _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_," says Hermione in dismay.

Molly leans over and pats Hermione's arm.

"While your personal business may not be private," she says encouragingly. "At least what is going to be revealed is to your credit. You may find it embarrassing, but there are going to be a few hundred families who will know the identity of the person they should thank for making it possible for them to have children. I suspect you will be admired for what you have done, rather than derided in any way.

"Besides," continues Molly, beaming, "there will be a Claiming announcement to come not long after. It will all be considered terribly romantic."

"Even if it is her former teacher who is seeking the contract?" I comment, concerned.

"It's like one of the soap operas on the Wizarding Wireless!" declares Molly. "The spy and the young woman who bring down a Dark wizard, with all sorts of intrigue along the way. Add a Claiming ceremony to that and you'll have witches all over England sighing with envy."

Hermione and I look at each other, mystified.

"By the way," says Molly, looking coy. "Have you determined who you will ask to negotiate the contract? Arthur and I will want to be prepared to fulfill all of the traditions when he comes calling."

"I consider Lucius Malfoy to be my closest kin," I reply.

Molly's eyes widen and her mouth forms a moue of surprise. She catches herself and wipes her mouth with her napkin.

"Don't the two of you worry a bit," says Molly. "I will make sure that Arthur behaves himself. We'll get the negotiating done and then we'll have a proper ceremony and a celebration. After all of the sadness…"

Molly sniffles and dabs at her eyes.

"We need a celebration. We won't forget our Ron," she says and blows her nose. "But, we deserve to have a bit of happiness and a reminder that we have a better future ahead of us."

Hermione and Molly are holding hands, now.

"Ron will be with us in spirit," says Hermione, tearing up.

Molly offers a brave smile.

"Assuming Gideon and Fabian do not have other plans for him that day," I add.

"I like to think about that, you know," confesses Molly. "Ron never met his uncles. I like to think that they are getting to know each other. That they are looking after my boy for me."

She breaks down in tears.

"Of course they are," says Hermione, wiping away her own tears. "Ron used to talk about them. He'd tell Harry and me all kinds of stories about them. He may not have known them in person, but he liked them a lot."

I think I know what worries Molly.

"Do not be concerned that your son is alone," I assure her. "He has your brothers and his grandparents."

"Moody and Sirius would look after him, too," says Hermione, giving me a rather apologetic look. "The Potters would keep an eye on him, too. If only for Harry's sake. Besides, they probably want to hear all about Harry from Ron."

"They would, wouldn't they?" says Molly, smiling a bit. "And some wild stories those would be."

Hermione laughs.

* * *

Our love seat.

Hermione reduced the size of the bed, knowing that Molly was going to play chaperone. We may not be able to utilize the bed in a manner I would like, but it made room for Hermione to transfigure a chair and an extra pillow into our love seat.

The bedroom door is open. Both of us have our feet on the floor. I believe Molly made her expectations for our Proper Courting Behavior very clear to Hermione.

That does not preclude having my arm around her and Hermione resting her head on my shoulder. I will admit that if I had my own hair, it would be more comfortable than my bald head pressed against her only semi-domesticated wild mane.

"That was kind of you to reassure Molly that Ron is all right," murmurs Hermione.

"It is no different than what you were doing," I reply, yawning.

"Yes, but she would expect that from me," says Hermione, rubbing my knee. "I think that it meant even more coming from you. Do you really think that Ron is safe and sound on the other side?"

"I do," I reply.

Hermione turns her head up to me. I lean down and our lips meet in the middle.

Three or four days. I believe that is what Ellen said.

"I love you," I whisper.

I can feel her smile beneath my lips.

* * *

Author's Notes

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Brillant, Sylphides, Squeaker 19450, Pickles 87, Excessivelyperky, Graynavarre, Machshefa, Mrs.HermioneSeverusSnape, Rebecca, MoreThanSirius, Lyndie578, Kittykat91419, Jade2099, Arime Setta, Mother of Tears, Keske, Blue Artemis, Klschmidt, Seth7, Mollyssister, Hgelman, Inspire, Andi-Scribbles, MamaJMarie, Walk.in.the.rain, Pirra, Charmedforce, T wrecks, o0morgana0o, Leandra713, Droxy, Dverducci, Traceyww, Severessa, Ebbe04, Maddie50, Missbluejuju, Smiles28, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Kirien, Duj, Laurenke1, Oscarxena, Rinny08, Ethereal-Hate, Princessfiona, Mrsdan, Ladywatts, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Not so Chicken Little, Mela, Mennie, Karla Manatee, Notwritten, Monkeemary, Annie, Shadow, Darque Hart, Kimjo, Snapeygirl, Erytha, Kcole, Koliber, Mini-Mooney, Zandoo19, Lonelygirl54, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Fatalani-Zabini, Werforpsu, MysticSong1978, She is Brighter, and Trulyamused.


	106. Chapter 106

I don't own this one, either.

Thank you to Julia for checking over this chapter and offering her input before she went on vacation. Thank you to others who will be named later.

Katyes has translated 94 chapters of Looking for Magic into German. That is a huge project she has taken on. Thank you!

And now, for something totally different.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore  
June 30th, 1999

Albus dipped his quill back into the pot of purple ink in a well-practiced move.

"Is there anything else I need to add to this list?" he murmured aloud, the nib of the quill hovering over the parchment.

Considering that he was newly retired, his To Do list was surprisingly long. Or at least, it would be surprising to someone else. Albus had known months before the Battle of Malfoy Manor that he might need to make a deal with Amelia Bones. Protecting Severus, Jean, Harry and the others from the wrath or more subtle machinations of the Wizengamot was worth it, especially given the small price Albus had to pay.

Giving up membership of the Wizengamot and a few fancy titles was not terribly painful.

Giving up Hogwarts was.

The key part of the agreement was his immediate retirement, no consultancy contract, no setting foot on the grounds for the next ten years, no discussion of Hogwarts with members of the Board of Governors unless they brought up the subject and no going to the press. He was to fade quietly into the background.

It might have been easier if he had agreed to have his left hand amputated.

Not his right hand. He would still need his wand hand, given the state of the wizarding world.

Albus looked around the parlor of his holiday cottage in Lincolnshire.

The room was cheerful with the morning sunlight shining through the open windows, curtains shifting in the breeze. The walls were painted a soft green, which went well with the old brown sofa, the flower patterned chairs, and the small antique tables scattered here and there. It was not a well organized or particularly formal room. There were no book cases here, at all. There were some in the upstairs bedrooms.

Like the rest of the cottage, it was small, familiar, and very comfortable. Perfect for him and Poppy on the occasional holiday and during the summer.

It was very inadequate for his present needs. He needed a place to go with all of his things. A wizard could accumulate a lot of possessions in the span of one hundred and fifty years. It irritated him that he had to have the house-elves pack his belongings at Hogwarts under Minerva and Poppy's watchful eyes, ensuring that everything was sent to him.

The London townhouse allocated to the Headmasters of Hogwarts was now off limits. Minerva would have the house-elves tackle that next.

His worldly goods were currently Reducioed and stored at headquarters.

What else could he have done under the circumstances? Amelia wanted him out immediately, so there was no time to do things properly. There was barely time to tell Minerva and magically transfer the headship and the accompanying wards to her.

_I need a large place in or near Hogsmeade and the first house Agatha showed me was inadequate_. _This house is much too small for my books and research. Besides, I need to be close to Poppy. I can do perfectly well without a place in London. If I need to stay in London, I can use headquarters for now. We will certainly not disband the Order until we are certain the threat from the secret Death Eaters is passed._

He looked down at his To Do list:

1. Contact Professor Franks and Madam Long to arrange for them to evaluate Riddle in his current state and disconnect Severus and Malfoy's Dark Marks.  
2. Speak to Roger and see if he will train Chester and me in how to cast a Patronus that devours Dementors.  
3. Meet Agatha Strom and view the two houses in Hogsmeade that she has in mind.  
4. Stop at jewelers and look at betrothal and wedding rings.

Albus nodded to himself as he perused item number 4. If he came to Poppy with rings in hand, she might be more inclined to believe that he really meant it this time.

5. Meet Harry for dinner.

Albus was not looking forward to that one. This was one responsibility he would have much preferred to avoid. There was a sense that certain chickens were about to come home to roost. At least the meeting would be here. With the addition of Severus living at headquarters during his convalescence, there were Order members continually coming and going. Albus did not want an audience.

If Harry had thought he had reason to trash Albus' office at Hogwarts after that mess at the Ministry of Magic, he might feel he had even more justification to reduce the cottage to rubble.

There were times when the logic of a man of more than one hundred fifty years old was not sufficient for a man who was not yet twenty.

His attention returned to his list.

6. Ask Jean, Arthur, and Tonks to use connections to determine if any of Riddle's hideouts have been located and what the interrogations of Pettigrew and the others might have revealed.  
7. Call on the Malfoys and see how Madam Malfoy is doing now that she is awake.  
8. Meet Severus at Chester's to supervise the transfer of Riddle to Azkaban.  
9. Contact Simeon LaVigne and assess the situation in France. The Order needs to track down those rumors.  
10. Consider a possible visit to the United States to Daniel Schuler.  
11. Talk to Draco Malfoy about going to see a film with explosions in it.

Albus set aside his quill. Each item on his list would automatically appear in a small journal that fitted neatly into a pocket of his robes. He might be retired from his official positions, but he had given up none of his unofficial ones.

In his own strategic plan, he had several categories broken down into smaller steps. First and foremost was to ensure that Tom Riddle never regained his magic and to figure out how to kill him. All other considerations were secondary to that one.

Harry Potter still had a role to play in that. Albus would do his best to deal with Harry's issues about his childhood. He had to stay on good terms with the boy. There was still a prophecy that had not yet been fulfilled.

Albus looked at the magical sundial on his desk that always showed the time, even indoors.

Time to leave for Chester's house in Wales.

* * *

Severus looked much improved over the last time Albus saw him at headquarters. For one thing, his hair had grown back. Severus looked intimidating under the most casual of circumstances. Without hair, he looked even fiercer.

If anything, Severus had regrown his hair longer than he usually wore it. Perhaps Hermione had something to do with that?

Albus wondered if Minerva would offer him the position of Deputy Headmaster.

She needed someone with a backbone and thick skin. That certainly did not describe Filius, who tended to cry at the drop of a hat. Pomona certainly had the spine for it, but she intensely disliked anything connected with the financial end of running Hogwarts.

Albus wondered if Severus would take up the offer from Avalon College.

He certainly could not for this coming school year. He was already committed to Hogwarts, having signed that contract in front of the required witnesses.

Albus knew that his plan to recruit Hermione to replace Severus Snape as Potions teacher would never come to fruition. It was much more likely that the two of them would settle down in one of Mrs. Schuler's enormous skyscrapers in Chicago and debate whether children would fit into their work schedules.

Mentally, Albus predicted that they would have two children with dark eyes and appalling hair. If all went well with their sorting, they would be in Ravenclaw where Hermione and Severus should have been all along.

Except that fate needed them to be elsewhere.

Prophecies.

Those damn Trelawney women. Before Sybil, there was Cassandra. It had taken all of Albus' skills of persuasion to talk Armando into believing that the Sorting Hat needed to be respelled because of sloppy placements. Naturally, Armando would choose to believe that the drop in academic results was because the Hat was making mistakes and not because of the way Headmaster Dippet ran Hogwarts.

Albus had to make certain that Cassandra's prophecies were fulfilled.

It was a long time ago. Tom Riddle was Albus' primary suspect regarding the opening the Chamber of Secrets and the murder of young Myrtle. However, Rubeus Hagrid took the blame and Albus was unable to prove his suspicions.

Three years later, Poppy's great aunt Cassandra fell into a trance during the soup course at the Sommersby's and a deep voice so unlike her own issued from her lips.

Albus tried to fight prophecy in 1916 during the Rasputin business, resulting in the Dark wizard's escape. It took six months and cost three good wizards their lives to locate him in South America.

He considered it a valuable lesson learned. Whenever a prophecy is in play, make certain it comes true and you might save time and lives.

Cassandra's and Sybil's prophecies were uncannily alike. The same deep voice uttering cryptic phrases that were open to many interpretations. Albus and Chester analyzed the prophecy every way they could think of and it kept coming down to the same thing. There were two people who would be instrumental in bringing down a wizard of Dark Humor who must not be sorted into Ravenclaw.

Albus would not know who they were before their sorting. The prophecies were not as precise as would be needed to be able to tell. All he knew was that one would be a brilliant Muggleborn with great innate magical talent, a logical mind, and a gift for Potions. The other needed to be a brilliant pure blood with great innate magical talent, a logical mind, and a gift for Potions.

The male needed to be in Slytherin and the female in Gryffindor.

The male needed to be tempted by power and angry enough to give in to that desire.

The female needed to befriend those she considered downtrodden.

The Hat went on their heads twenty years apart and found those qualities that Albus had told it to look for. Severus Snape was sent to Slytherin and Hermione Granger went to Gryffindor. Had the Hat not placed them where they were needed at the right time, there would have been no suitable spy among the Death Eaters and Harry Potter would have been killed as a first year when Quirrell went after the Philosopher's Stone. There would have been no Happy-Sleepy potion and Tom Riddle would still be psychopathing about.

Prophecy must have its way. The Sorting Hat did the job that was needed. Unfortunately, Albus' manipulation of the magic in the Hat did have the side effect of making a few students miserable because they were not in Ravenclaw where they properly belonged.

One cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

As the days of the first war dragged on and on, Albus hoped desperately that he and Chester had not misinterpreted Cassandra's prophecy. If anything, Tom was gaining power and no Slytherin or Gryffindor had stepped forward to put a halt to the whole business.

Cassandra was long gone to her reward when Sybil showed up to her job interview with too much sherry in her system and Albus heard that strange voice once again. Privately, he always thought of the whole thing as the Cassandra Prophecy and the Sybil Corollary.

It meant that there was another layer to the machinations of fate. Albus was going to have to levitate himself through hoops to make this prophecy work out. The price of failing to do so might be Voldemort's conquest of the wizarding world.

For days, Albus had been preparing himself to talk to Harry Potter. If only Limnoreia had kept her damn mouth shut, Harry would not have known that the protection given by his mother's willing sacrifice of her own life would have protected him from Lord Voldemort anywhere that he lived.

Harry did not have to live with his aunt in order to keep that protection. Now, Harry knew that Albus had known this all along. Harry was not happy.

Children are never happy about painful things that must happen for their own good. They dislike eating broccoli instead of sweets. They hate the flavor of the potions that prevent them from catching measles and scarlet fever. They resent the discipline of subtracting House points and awarding detentions for misbehavior.

It was truly sad that Harry Potter had to have more than his fair share of painful childhood experiences in the Muggle world, but he needed to understand how beautiful the wizarding world could be. Without knowing the dark, how could anyone ever recognize light? How could he love the light enough?

_Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

Sybill's prophecy. The one that said either Harry or Riddle must kill the other in order to survive.

Harry must be ready to put his life on the line in order to kill Riddle. Their business was not done just because Tom Riddle was incarcerated under the influence of Happy-Sleepy. Harry must love the wizarding world enough to put his own life on the line against Lord Voldemort when the time arrived. He must be ready to do it whenever all of the lines of all of the prophecies converged.

Albus knew he must find a way to persuade Harry. Somehow, the right words would come to him when he and Harry met tonight for dinner. He had always found a way to persuade others to his way of thinking when it was absolutely necessary. Harry would be persuaded and all would be well between them. Harry would do the job that was needed when the time arrived.

Just as Albus Dumbledore always did the job that was needed.

Which brought his attention back to what was going on around him.

In this moment of time, there was a job that needed to be done. Even though the Ministry was not entirely to be trusted, the cell in Azkaban was ready. Limnoreia Lovegood, Bill Weasley, and Roger Littlehorse had tested it and pronounced it ready for occupancy.

Rufus Scrimgeour was here to personally supervise the transfer of Tom Riddle from Chester Sommersby's cellar to Azkaban.

Roger Littlehorse, Severus Snape, Ellen Smith and Jean Lamb were present. Chester and Albus were the official representatives of the Order.

Albus found it fascinating to observe Severus as he watched his former master.

Riddle was lying on the cot in his cell. It was magically warmed to a temperature hotter than the rest of the cell.

"His body has limited ability to regulate its own temperature," Ellen explained. "It must be a side-effect of his partially reptilian physiology. You must make absolutely certain he is kept warm enough."

"Rather like a snake on a heated rock," muttered Jean, mostly to herself.

"An accurate description," said Ellen.

"Azkaban is generally uncomfortable with damp and cold," said the Healer, in the gray robes of the Azkaban prison staff. "We have made adjustments to this particular cell to ensure that it is kept warm and dry. His bed will be the same temperature as the one you have for him here."

"They have duplicated the cell we have here down to the smallest detail," said Roger Littlehorse. "This cell has held him for two weeks with no indication of his magic returning."

There was a chorus of nods as everyone agreed that the time had arrived to hand Tom Riddle over to the people who would hold him prisoner.

Severus tapped his wand on a panel set into the wall. An assortment of gauges was embedded in the wood indicating that the Happy-Sleepy potion had been evacuated from the air in the cell. Severus confirmed it with an analysis spell.

Riddle stirred and sat up.

Ellen and the Healer from Azkaban discussed what Riddle needed to survive. The Voldemort shell was healthier than when Riddle was first incarcerated.

"You must regulate his diet and make certain he receives the potions to keep his blood pressure and blood sugar stable," Ellen said to the Healer.

"Why doesn't he just stop eating?" asked one of the Aurors. "If his body died, he could escape from the cell."

"He is being more cooperative because of the effects of the Happy-Sleepy potion," said Ellen. "He hasn't got the fight in him that he used to have. We shouldn't take it for granted that it will continue. If his food intake drops, then nutritional potions will have to be spelled directly into his stomach. His shell is a very brittle diabetic. It wouldn't take much to kill it, if he decides he wants to commit suicide."

"We have been very careful to keep him from having any means of committing suicide," added Chester. "He must be watched twenty-four hours a day. He could rip his shirt into strips and strangle himself. He could attempt to suffocate himself with his own pillow. For Tom Riddle, suicide is a means of escaping this cell and he will be highly motivated to do away with his shell."

"We are taking no chances," replied Scrimgeour, in authoritarian tones. "Voldemort is the most important prisoner we've ever held in custody. He will have two guards watching him during each shift for three shifts a day. An officer in the warden's office will be watching the guards via an enchanted mirror. Voldemort will never be alone, never out of the sight of others. The warden and inspectors from my office will visit at random times at least once a day. We will not allow our vigilance to falter."

"You cannot afford any mistakes," said Severus, shaking his head so that his newly regrown hair brushed across his shoulders. "The Order has heard rumors that the Death Eaters who were not captured during the battle and other sympathizers hope to infiltrate the Azkaban guard and free Riddle."

Riddle heard Severus' voice and raised his head. His eyes were red, but lacked the glow of magic.

"Traitor," hissed Riddle. "You think that you are safe. You will never be safe."

"I need only continue to be smarter and more prepared than your followers," said Severus, sarcastic and biting.

Riddle rose, weaving unsteadily on his feet. He looked down at his hands.

"Imagining what you'd do if you had any magic, aren't you?" said Jean, anger creeping into her voice. "You'll never have magic again."

"Perhaps we should effect the transfer," said Albus, intervening. There is no point in provoking Riddle.

Scrimgeour stepped into the cell first.

"You'll be glad to know that we have your snake tucked away safely," he told Tom in a businesslike tone. "We have expert herpetologists taking care of her so that we can keep you supplied with her venom. You'll never see her again and never possess her again. Potter has had a few heart to heart talks with Nagini. She does not miss you."

The former Dark Lord attempted to sneer, but the muscles of his face would not compose themselves into the proper form.

Albus watched through the window as Scrimgeour put Riddle in a Body Bind and the black cords wrapped themselves around him. Thick black straps formed, three on each side of his body. The Aurors surrounded Riddle and picked up the straps, lifting him off his feet. The six Aurors carried him out of the cell.

The Order members followed them up the stairs, down the hallways, and out the door of Chester's home. Scrimgeour took an old ruler out of the pocket of his robes and handed it to Ellen. Roger and Jean accepted another Portkey.

Severus, Chester, and Albus would remain behind.

Scrimgeour touched his wand to the binding straps holding Tom Riddle captive. Holding an old tin cup in his other hand, he gave a password and all of the Portkeys activated.

The remaining three returned to the parlor of Chester's house to wait for the message Patroni confirming that the team had reached Azkaban safely.

* * *

Albus placed the picnic basket on the kitchen table. Once again, he regretted that the cottage was not large enough for a formal dining room.

_I need to put 'get a house-elf' on my To Do list_, he muses. _In my years at Hogwarts, I have grown completely unaccustomed to making do for myself._

Continually stopping in Hogsmeade to buy meals was inconvenient.

It was two hours before Harry was due to arrive. The enchanted basket would keep their dinner warm. There was time to have a cup of tea and think about what to say to Harry.

Albus needed words to persuade Harry Potter that his miserable childhood was necessary to save the wizarding world from Tom Riddle.

Albus took his tea and sat down on the old brown sofa.

"When I buy a house in Hogsmeade," he said aloud to himself, "I shall buy new furniture."

The teacup fell from his hand when the sharp pain in his head and the odd sensation came over him.

Albus tried to reach into the pocket of his robes for the vial of emerald green liquid he always carried with him, but found that he could not grasp it.

* * *

The Wizarding Wireless

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for this important news bulletin.

It has been announced that Albus Dumbledore, who retired from public life only two weeks ago, was found dead at his home in Lincolnshire this evening. He was discovered by Apprentice Auror Harry Potter, who was due to have dinner with the former Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Initial reports indicate that the probable cause of death was a stroke. According to unnamed sources, Dumbledore had a history of strokes and stepped down from his post at Hogwarts and with the Wizengamot because of his health.

Let's hear from Titus Biggs who has been at the Ministry covering the hearings looking into the downfall of He Who Shall Not Be Named. What kind of reaction are you getting at the Ministry to this news?

_I'm standing in the lobby of the Ministry where word of Albus Dumbledore's death is literally being passed from person to person. The members of the Wizengamot have largely left for the week, given the adjournment of the hearings until Monday. What I am seeing now are a few wizards and witches in the purple robes of the Wizengamot clustered into small groups and talking among themselves. Ministry employees are doing the same._

_It is only a few weeks ago that Albus Dumbledore strode into these halls and stood before the Wizengamot to announce his immediate retirement from Hogwarts and resignation from all of his official positions. Quite honestly, at that time the general consensus seemed to be that Dumbledore had cut some sort of deal to protect members of the Order of the Phoenix from prosecution for any illegal activities they may have engaged in leading up to the capture of the Dark Lord. At the time, Dumbledore claimed that health issues were the primary reason for his departure. Given that he has died only a short time after that announcement, there may be more truth to his official reason for resigning than we knew._

_Standing here with me is Preston Goode, a long-time member of the Wizengamot and former colleague of Albus Dumbledore. Would you share your reaction to this news with our listening audience?_

"Albus Dumbledore was a great man and like many great men, was imperfect. He was brilliant, powerful, and had a tendency to believe in the rightness of his own actions. In my many years on the Wizengamot, we had the benefit of his years of experience and broad range of knowledge about the wizarding world. There is no doubt that he is one of the most influential wizards of our time.

"I cannot help but reflect that it is only a short time since Dumbledore participated in the battle that took down the erstwhile Lord Voldemort.

"In a matter of a few weeks, the two most powerful wizards of our time have been removed from their positions of influence. Voldemort has been captured and his magic taken away. Albus Dumbledore has died and moved beyond the concerns of this world.

"Wizarding Britain will never be the same again."

* * *

Author's notes

Thank you to all my reviewers: Brotherchaos, Squeaker 19450, Pickles87, Sylphides, Darque Hart, Allycat1186, She is brighter, Droxy, Mollyssister, Ladywatts, Angel-65. Lonelygirl54, Lyndie578, Seth7, Mrsdan, Inspire, Mysticsong1978, Laurenke1, Luvinthunder, Kittykat91419, Klschmidt, Erytha, Andi-Scribbles, Serenity4riku, MissPrincess1989, Snapeygirl, Kimjo, Trulyamused, Notwritten, Oscarxena, Mother of Tears, KellyRoxton, Blue Artemis, Mela, Maddie50, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Duj, Magicdaisy, Jade2099, Arime Setta, Excessivelyperky, Snakegirl-Sprockett, MoreThanSirius, HinataMorningstar, Koliber, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Traceyww, o0morgana0o, Shadow, Rowaine, Quiet-mg, Kcole, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Wati, Brillant, Evil-mastermind666, Missblujuju, Ebbe04, Mini-Mooney, Legilimens31, Northern Sunstone, Not so Chicken Little,


	107. Chapter 107

I'm never going to own it.

Thank you to Julia and others who shall be named later for their input into this chapter.

* * *

Official – Pending Final Review  
Wizengamot Hearing  
Case Number 1999-D173B  
Inquiry into Capture of Tom Marvolo Riddle (Aka: Lord Voldemort) by Order of the Phoenix  
The above entitled matter came before the Wizengamot on June 25th, 1999 at 10 AM. Sessions occurred on June 25th, 28th, 29th and July 5th

Appearances  
Witnesses:  
Albus Dumbledore, Order of the Phoenix,  
Hermione Jane Granger, Order of the Phoenix, Ottery St. Catchpole  
Jean Lamb, Department of Magical Weights and Measures, London  
Remus Lupin, Order of the Phoenix, London  
Lucius Malfoy, Financier, Wiltshire  
Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Ellen Smith, St. Mungo's Hospital, London  
Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Chester Sommersby, Order of the Phoenix, Wales  
Nymphadora Tonks, Magical Law Enforcement, London

Interrogators for the Wizengamot:  
Edelworth Huntington, Member  
Elizabeth Wellingham, Member

Office of the Minister for Magic  
Amelia Bones, Minister  
Percy Weasley, Aide

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**June 25th, 1999  
Interrogation of Remus Lupin

Mr. Huntington: You stated during this morning's testimony that the Order believed that Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, had changed the manner in which he organized and ran the Death Eaters. How did you come to this conclusion?

Mr. Lupin: We were uncertain at first. It has already been reported here that Severus Snape was functioning as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix within the ranks of the Death Eaters. On an evening in September, 1998, he reported during an Order meeting that the Dark Lord was no longer including the entire inner circle of the Death Eaters in planning raids and such. Snape expressed the opinion that the Dark Lord was using a terrorist cell system. This matched with conclusions I had already reached in my discussions with Albus Dumbledore.

Mr. Huntington: How did these cells function?

Mr. Lupin: Riddle was assigning teams to be led by specific inner circle members. The members of the teams knew only their own team mates. This offered greater security in case any member of a cell was captured. The cells were given specific projects to work on.

Mr. Huntington: Can you give me an example of this?

Mr. Lupin: The murders of the Muggleborn families on October 19th, 1997 were committed by a cell led by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. The attack on Madam Pomfrey at St. Mungo's was assigned to Lucius Malfoy's cell. Fortunately, he was on our side and sabotaged it.

Mr. Huntington: The Order had no advanced warning of these attacks?

Mr. Lupin: None. Our primary source of information was Severus Snape. He told us that he was not getting the information about what the cells were doing because only Peter Pettigrew seemed to know what assignments were being given to any of the cells. Later on, Lucius Malfoy became our secondary source of information and he confirmed the same thing. Snape and Malfoy knew nothing about the plans to attack the Muggle born families. Snape also reported that there was no advanced warning about the attack on Madam Pomfrey. The Dark Lord announced it during a meeting and gave Malfoy the assignment.

Mr. Huntington: Mr. Lupin, did you have any collaborating evidence beyond the testimony of Severus Snape or Lucius Malfoy?

Madam Bones: Do not answer that, Mr. Lupin. I would like to remind the Honorable Interrogator that the purpose of these hearings is discovery and not prosecution. We wish to learn how the Order of the Phoenix brought about the capture of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. That does not require proof beyond all reasonable doubt.

Mr. Huntington: I believe it would be of value to this body to determine if the Order of the Phoenix was justified in their conclusions.

Madam Bones: Is there anyone among the members of this august body who believes that the capture and containment of Lord Voldemort, given his hundreds of acknowledged misdeeds, is in any way a bad thing? If so, please raise your hand.

Madam Bones: Seeing none, I would direct Mr. Huntington to return to the matter at hand, which is to discover how the Order of the Phoenix captured Lord Voldemort and turned him over to Magical Law Enforcement.

Mr. Huntington: In that case, I have no further questions for this witness but reserve the right to call him back for further testimony.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**Interrogation of Chester Sommersby  
June 25th, 1999

Madam Wellingham: You served as an advisor to Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.

Mr. Sommersby: I was an advisor to Albus Dumbledore well before the Order of the Phoenix was created. I was part of the team that tracked down Rasputin and was a strategist for the Ministry during the Grindelwald War.

Madam Wellingham: Did Dumbledore inform you of the change to a terrorist cell structure in the Death Eater organization?

Mr. Sommersby: He did and I was not in the least surprised to hear it. A cell structure is a highly effective way for a terrorist organization to work. It reduces competition among members of the inner circle of the organization, because they don't know what the other groups are doing. Additional protection is provided to the organization as a whole, because the rank and file members do not know each other's identities outside of their own cell.

Madam Wellingham: What was your advice to Albus Dumbledore when you learned this?

Mr. Sommersby: My advice to Albus was the same as it had been for several months. The Order was fighting a defensive war. The Death Eaters would strike and the Order responded. Voldemort was controlling the field. I urged Albus to take that control away and start striking first. I believed that there was no way for the Order to win as long as Voldemort was controlling the war.

Madam Wellingham: Why did you not go to the Ministry with this advice?

Madam Bones: I do not believe that the sound of what is commonly called a _raspberry_ can be entered into the record. Could you put your response into words, please?

Mr. Sommersby: Fudge had his head stuck in the ground when it wasn't stuck up his arse in regards to Voldemort. That gave Riddle time to regroup and rebuild his organization. They were becoming more aggressive and public in their actions. The Ministry did their level best to ignore it until a battle between Death Eaters and a bunch of teenagers left a good portion of the Ministry a shambles.

When Madam Bones took over, there was an effort to deal with the reality of Voldemort. Unfortunately, too many Death Eaters and sympathizers had already infiltrated the Ministry. The Ministry's efforts were being leaked and Voldemort was warned every time the Ministry tried to make a move against him.

I didn't dare go to the Ministry and offer strategy. I went to the Order of the Phoenix and Albus Dumbledore to offer advice and it was accepted.

Madam Wellingham: How did the Order of the Phoenix respond to your advice?

Mr. Sommersby: Albus held a meeting and asked the members of the Order to work on developing weapons that might be effective against the Dark Lord so that the Order could plan attacks against him.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**June 28th, 1999  
Albus Dumbledore

Madam Wellingham: According to previous testimony, last year you directed the members of the Order of the Phoenix to develop weapons that could be used against Death Eaters and more specifically, Lord Voldemort.

Mr. Dumbledore: I did. Chester Sommersby and other members of the Order convinced me that we were at a distinct disadvantage in dealing with Tom Riddle from a defensive posture. We needed to be more aggressive and go on the attack if we wanted to put an end to his terrorist activities.

Madam Wellingham: Did your people develop new weapons?

Mr. Dumbledore: They did. The first thing was not a weapon, but a successful treatment for Cruciatus that led to the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion.

Madam Bones: Quiet please. I will have order.

Madam Wellingham: Could you elaborate?

Mr. Dumbledore: When Hermione Granger and Severus Snape testify about the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion, they can tell you a good deal more about it than I can. I do know that Miss Granger learned that the same nerve paths that transmit pain messages to the brain also transmit messages of hot and cold. She suggested that if a person was cold enough, the pain messages left over from Crucio might be overwhelmed by messages of cold. Professor Snape and Miss Granger discussed it and he proposed trying a combination of a potion and immersion in cold water for the treatment.

They experimented with this method for a while and then it was used on volunteers from the Order who experienced attacks of Crucio. It was found to be highly effective, even to the point of diminishing the tremors and weakness known to be after-effects of Crucio. To my knowledge, it has been used successfully by Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Lucius Malfoy.

Madam Wellingham: Why didn't the Order pass on this information to the healing community?

Mr. Dumbledore: The healing community would have wanted to know who invented it. Anything we could have told them would put our spy at risk. Tom Riddle would not have been pleased to have Severus Snape working on a treatment for one of his favorite curses. It was absolutely necessary to keep it a secret.

Madam Wellingham: How did this lead to the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion?

Mr. Dumbledore: The Wizengamot needs to decide whether or not they want the formula for the Happy-Sleepy potion to become public knowledge. If we discuss this too openly, there are those who might figure it out. I believe that it would pose a significant danger for the public to learn how to make a potion that takes away a wizard's ability to use magic.

Madam Bones: Mr. Dumbledore makes a very good point. We will discontinue this line of questioning. I will meet with the executive committee of the Wizengamot to determine the parameters of such questioning during this inquiry.

Madam Wellingham: If I may continue questioning this witness on another matter?

Madam Bones: Please do.

Madam Wellingham: I am attempting to piece together how it is that the Order concluded that the Dark Lord was having health problems. Given his claims of immortality, that seems a ridiculous notion.

Mr. Dumbledore: This is all rather convoluted, so I hope everyone will bear with me. In 1992, Tom Riddle made an attempt to procure the Philosopher's Stone created by Nicholas Flamel in order to assure his own immortality. The stone had been hidden at Hogwarts, since it was believed that Riddle could not get through the wards. We were quite wrong.

When Riddle attacked the Potter family on Halloween night, 1981, Lily Potter made herself a willing sacrifice when she refused Riddle's offer to spare her life if she would step aside and let him kill her son. Riddle killed Lily Potter, which conferred an ancient form of protective warding around her son that would protect him from Riddle. When Riddle cast the Killing curse at Harry Potter, it bounced off him and destroyed Riddle's body.

Harry Potter told me that he and his friends had attempted to get to the Philosopher's Stone to save it from being stolen by Riddle.

Madam Bones: Order please, order.

Madam Wellingham: This is quite shocking. What would an eleven year old boy and his friends be thinking that would lead them to try and deal with Lord Voldemort?

Mr. Dumbledore: Perhaps you had better ask that of Mr. Potter. I will comment that it was not unusual for the trio of friends consisting of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger to try and take on challenges and enemies far beyond their years.

Madam Wellingham: Please continue.

Mr. Dumbledore: In the course of this encounter, the children discovered that it was actually Professor Quirinius Quirrell who was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. As it happens, Tom Riddle had a talent for possessing others. It seems that he had possessed Professor Quirrell and had been tagging along in his body for the school year, waiting for an opportunity to acquire the Philosopher's Stone.

In the encounter between Harry Potter, Quirrell, and Riddle, Professor Quirrell attempted to touch Harry. Because Riddle was inside his body, the special wards protecting Harry from Lord Voldemort were activated and Quirrell was killed. At the moment Quirrell died, Harry saw a misty form exit from the remains.

It has been our theory that Tom Riddle did something to create a part of him that is this misty form. The form can possess people, which is what happened to the unfortunate Professor Quirrell.

In 1995, Tom Riddle had had quite enough of flitting about as a mist or by possessing people. He wanted a body of his own that would be sufficient to allow him to fully use magic and regain control of the Death Eaters. He accomplished this by using the Blood, Flesh, and Bone spell. Using blood from Harry Potter, flesh from Peter Pettigrew, and a bone from his own deceased father, Riddle created a new body for himself. That is the same body we captured and that has been photographed and shown here and in the newspapers.

What Riddle failed to understand is that his cobbled together body included some genetic material that made his body defective. Diabetes runs in the Potter family and heart disease among the Pettigrews. It appears from observations reported by Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy that the Lord Voldemort shell might have diabetes.

Madam Wellingham: Could you be more specific?

Mr. Dumbledore: Snape reported that Lord Voldemort was drinking water in front of his followers, something he had never done before. He also found evidence that Riddle was brewing potions for himself using ingredients found in potions that treat heart ailments. We also had reason to believe that he was experiencing problems with circulation. We thought that this was related to diabetes, but that was only a theory. Still, it was apparent that the Lord Voldemort shell had some sort of health issue.

We believe that Lord Voldemort had decided during the early months of 1998 that his defective body would ultimately have to be replaced. Up until that time, his activities and attacks had been increasing. We started to see a slow-down of terrorist activities in 1998 that led us to believe that Lord Voldemort had a different plan in mind than the overt take over of British wizarding society that he seemed to be pursuing up until that time.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**June 29th, 1999  
Jean Lamb

Mr. Huntington: What is your occupation, Madam Lamb?

Madam Lamb: I work for the Department of Magical Weights and Measures as an analyst.

Mr. Huntington: What does an analyst for the Department of Magical Weights and Measures do?

Madam Lamb: I analyze reports of Dark magic activity and look for trends.

Mr. Huntington: That seems an unusual activity for an employee of the Department of Magical Weights and Measures.

Madam Lamb: The Ministry likes to make the best use of their employees, no matter what department they are in.

Mr. Huntington: Unintelligible.

Madam Lamb: As you say.

Mr. Huntington: Why did you become involved in this business to take down Lord Voldemort?

Madam Lamb: Before I married, I was Jean McKinnon. Acting on Lord Voldemort's orders, the Death Eaters killed all of my immediate family and most of my extended family.

Mr. Huntington: That is certainly tragic, but not what I meant. What is it that involved you in this most recent effort?

Madam Lamb: At the end of every calendar year, I do an analysis of missing wizards and witches. I discovered a pattern among missing women that indicated a serial killer might be at work.

Mr. Huntington: Could you explain what is meant by a serial killer?

Madam Lamb: A serial killer is defined as someone who kills at least three people with a period of time between each of the killings. The motivation for killing is typically some form of gratification, often sexual.

Madam Bones: Order, please.

Mr. Huntington: What was it about the pattern of disappearances that made you believe that a serial killer was at work?

Madam Lamb: If this handout could be distributed to the members of the Wizengamot, I will endeavor to explain.

Mr. Huntington: Please enter into evidence document D-10a.

Mr. Weasley: So entered. May it be noted in the record that copies of document D-10a were distributed to all members present.

Madam Lamb: If you look at this list of missing women and their ages and occupations, you will note that they were either young or old. There were no women in their mid-twenties to sixties. None were married. All of them could be considered rather isolated in terms of lack of involved family or their affiliation with the Muggle world.

Using standard Arithmantic analyses, which are referred to on page two of the document, it can be seen that the commonality among these women exceeds what one would expect by random chance. It should also be noted that no bodies were ever found, which stands as further evidence of magical involvement.

At first, I believed that there were two serial killers at work. One appeared to target young women, the other older women. I did some networking with Aurors to see if they had identified this pattern and if they would keep watch for anything suspicious that fit with this. I also met with Severus Snape, whom I knew to be the Order's spy among the Death Eaters. I thought it was possible that there might be a Death Eater who was taking independent action for personal gratification.

Mr. Huntington: What was Snape's response?

Madam Lamb: He did not believe a Death Eater would dare engage in this degree of independent action. The consequences would be severe if Voldemort discovered it.

Mr. Huntington: Where did this leave you?

Madam Lamb: Watching for patterns and hoping that we would have a breakthrough of some sort. At this point, it did not occur to us that Lord Voldemort was personally involved by ordering Death Eaters to kidnap women who might be virgins.

Madam Bones: Silence, please. There must be quiet in this room or I will have everyone except members of the Wizengamot expelled.

Mr. Huntington: Why was Tom Riddle looking for virgins?

Madam Lamb: Based on information that we discovered after I began investigating the missing women, we believe that he was looking for a woman that could meet the qualifications of a maiden brewer. We think that the women he kidnapped were found not to be virgins or did not have the skills to be a maiden brewer. Voldemort then had them killed and their bodies disposed of.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**June 29th, 1999  
Ellen Smith

Mr. Huntington: For the benefit of the members of the Wizengamot, could you explain what a maiden brewer is?

Healer Smith: A maiden brewer is a woman capable of making a classification of potions that must be prepared by a virgin. She must not have had sexual intercourse or have engaged in any form of sexually penetrative activity. When the potions are prepared, she alone can handle the ingredients, the preparation equipment, or perform any of the brewing activities. No one else may touch anything associated with the brewing or the product until after it is bottled and sealed.

Mr. Huntington: Are such potions easily obtained?

Healer Smith: Such potions are next to impossible to obtain.

Mr. Huntington: Why?

Healer Smith: It is difficult to find a virgin who has the skills to do this kind of brewing. Obviously, there are aspects of personal relationships that she must be willing to forgo in order to brew such potions.

Mr. Huntington: Is it true that St. Mungo's has not had access to a maiden brewer for several years?

Healer Smith: At least a dozen years until one started brewing for St. Mungo's during the winter. A maiden brewer was contracted to St. Mungo's to produce fertility potions.

Mr. Huntington: Why fertility potions?

Healer Smith: Because maiden brewed fertility potions are 100 percent effective in helping women to conceive. It does not guarantee that the woman can carry to term, but it is the most effective potion of its kind. I understand that there was a long list of families who were waiting for the availability of such a potion.

**Excerpt from Transcript**.  
July 2nd, 1999  
Hermione Granger

Madam Wellingham: When did you become a maiden brewer?

Ms. Granger: It was last autumn when Remus Lupin was attacked by a Death Eater who shot him with a dart containing a specialized poison that infused silver into his blood. The only effective treatment was a potion that had to be brewed in two parts, with one part done by a maiden brewer.

Madam Wellingham: So you became the Order's official maiden brewer?

Ms. Granger: It was never official, but I did a lot of brewing for the Order. Healing potions of various sorts and anything else I was asked to brew.

Madam Wellingham: You entered a contract with St. Mungo's to supply them with fertility potions?

Ms. Granger: I did. There was a need for them and it was a way that I could make money to pay for my education.

Madam Wellingham: According to your affidavit, you are a student at Avalon College in the United States. You are studying Potions?

Ms. Granger: I am.

Madam Wellingham: If maiden brewers are so much in demand, why didn't you go to work for an apothecary?

Ms. Granger: I could only do this work part-time while attending college and my studies are my top priority. I was also warned by Madam Pomfrey, the Mediwitch at Hogwarts, that I might find myself spelled into wanting to remain a virgin for the rest of my life if I allowed my identity to be known.

Madam Wellingham: Come now, do you really believe anyone would do such a thing?

Ms. Granger: I was advised by Professor Snape that it might be the case. He said that maiden brewed potions are in high demand and that an apothecary could make a fortune if I went to work for one. I took Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape's advice and kept my identity secret. It turned out to be a good move since it ultimately saved my life.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**July 5th, 1999  
Poppy Pomfrey

Mr. Huntington: You are listed as resident Mediwitch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Mediwitch Pomfrey: That is correct.

Mr. Huntington: Is it true that you were Miss Granger's go-between at St. Mungo's Hospital?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: That is also correct. I negotiated the price for the potions and arranged for the delivery. I also certified Miss Granger's virginity.

Mr. Huntington: Did you receive money for this?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: I did. St. Mungo's has a standing offer of a bounty to any medical profession who can provide a conduit to a maiden brewer. I'll admit that I took full advantage of it.

Mr. Huntington: Will you tell us about the circumstances of the Death Eater attack against your person on May 2nd, 1999?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: I was at St. Mungo's delivering a maiden brewed potion to Healer Spence. I met him in the conference room near the Maternity ward. We exchanged pleasantries and I gave him the potion. I received a bank draft in payment.

Mr. Huntington: What was the potion for?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: I had received a letter from Healer Spence requesting that the maiden brewer prepare two potions used to treat cancerous brain tumors. These were to be used for a child with a brain tumor.

Mr. Huntington: I take it that Miss Granger agreed to prepare the potions?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: She did and they were delivered to me by William Weasley, who had been visiting Hermione in the United States. I was given to understand that the child's medical condition was critical and took them immediately to St. Mungo's.

Mr. Huntington: What happened after you delivered the potion to Healer Spence?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: I left the building and was intercepted by a small group of witches and wizards who started hurling hexes at me. I do not Apparate and normally use a Portkey for travel. It didn't work and so I used a bracelet that I always wear to signal Albus Dumbledore that I was in danger.

Mr. Huntington: What happened next?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: Albus Apparated to me immediately.

Mr. Huntington: Perhaps we could take a short recess so Mediwitch Pomfrey can collect herself?

Madam Bones: Of course. We will take a fifteen minute tea break.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**July 5th, 1999  
Poppy Pomfrey

Mr. Huntington: Can you tell us what happened after Albus Dumbledore Apparated to you?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: He fired hexes back at the Death Eaters. A few of them fell down and Albus Apparated both of us back to Hogwarts.

Mr. Huntington: How did you know that they were Death Eaters?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: They were wearing black hooded robes and silver masks and they attacked me without provocation. I assumed that they were Death Eaters.

Mr. Huntington: What happened after the two of you returned to Hogwarts?

Mediwitch Pomfrey: Albus had a stroke.

Mr. Huntington: If we may have another short recess?

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**July 5th, 1999  
Ellen Smith

Mr. Huntington: I understand that after Albus Dumbledore had a stroke following the Death Eater attack, you attended him as a Healer?

Healer Smith: I did, but it was more as a follow-up to the work that Mediwitch Pomfrey had already done to repair the damage.

Mr. Huntington: What did you find?

Healer Smith: Albus was making a good recovery from what would be considered a mild stroke. Mediwitch Pomfrey had already administered the necessary potions to repair the broken blood vessel and to lower his blood pressure. She told me that Albus had a similar stroke in 1978 and made a full recovery. When Albus woke, he confirmed that he had a stroke in 1978 and that it was kept secret. I agreed that Albus needed to stay on potions to control his blood pressure and watch his diet. He tended to enjoy salty foods and sweets more than was good for him.

Mr. Huntington: We are all aware, much to our sorrow, that Albus Dumbledore passed away just a few days ago. According to reports, his death was caused by a stroke. Is this correct?

Healer Smith: Harry Potter found Albus Dumbledore in his cottage. According to Apprentice Auror Potter, Dumbledore was not breathing and had no pulse. He immediately summoned Remus Lupin, Mediwitch Pomfrey, and me via message Patronus. I arrived after Lupin and saw that Potter was administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Mr. Huntington: Cardio what?

Healer Smith: Cardiopulmonary resuscitation is commonly referred to as CPR. It is a Muggle developed technique for keeping blood circulating and getting oxygen to the brain of someone whose heart has stopped beating. It has recently gained a following among the wizarding healing profession as an effective means to reduce the potential for brain damage when potions or charms are not available or effective in oxygenating the brain. I understand that Mr. Potter is not advanced enough in his Auror training to have learned the kinds of revival and stasis charms that might be used in a case like this.

Nevertheless, based on the conditions that I found when I examined Albus, it would have been too late for any of those charms to have worked by the time Mr. Potter arrived. I estimate that Albus Dumbledore had been dead for about one hour and forty-five minutes when Potter found him.

Mr. Huntington: Is it your professional opinion that Albus Dumbledore died of a stroke?

Healer Smith: It is. My examination showed that he had a massive stroke and died within minutes of when it occurred. He would have lost consciousness immediately and been unable to summon help.

Mr. Huntington: You have no suspicion of foul play?

Healer Smith: None at all.

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**July 5th, 1999  
Nymphadora Tonks

Madam Wellingham: Were you officially involved in the investigation of the Death Eater attack on Mediwitch Pomfrey?

Auror Tonks: No, I was not. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Leta Burns were assigned to it. Both of them died during the Battle of Malfoy Manor.

Madam Wellingham: Were you unofficially involved in the investigation?

Auror Tonks: I was. Kingsley, Leta and I met several times to discuss it. I also visited the scene of the crime and was present at the discovery of Healer Spence's body.

Madam Wellingham: Why didn't you follow the official chain of command in this investigation?

Auror Tonks: Kingsley Shacklebolt was my superior. He told me that he was concerned about Death Eater sympathizers within Magical Law Enforcement interfering with the investigation and trying to cover up incriminating aspects. We were members of the Order of the Phoenix and so he and Leta kept me informed.

Madam Wellingham: Please tell the members of the Wizengamot about the discovery of Healer Spence's body.

Auror Tonks: Before we found the body, we considered Healer Spence to be a prime suspect as a Death Eater involved in the plot to capture Mediwitch Pomfrey. We discovered his body at his home. There was no sign of a struggle and it appeared that the killing curse was used. Initial examination indicated that Healer Spence would have been dead at the time he was supposed to be meeting with Mediwitch Pomfrey. At that time, we concluded that someone had used Polyjuice to impersonate Healer Spence. Shortly after that, we discovered that the child with the cancerous brain tumor did not exist, indicating that the whole thing was a set up.

Madam Wellingham: Why would anyone want to set up such a convoluted plot to capture Mediwitch Pomfrey?

Auror Tonks: I assume because they wanted to force Mediwitch Pomfrey to reveal the identity of the maiden brewer so she could be kidnapped and forced to brew for Lord Voldemort.

Madam Wellingham: At this time, we would like to recess for the day. We have collaborating testimony from Severus Snape, the Order's spy within the Death Eaters. He will be present tomorrow, having been cleared by his Healer to testify after recovering from severe injuries he received during the Battle of Malfoy Manor.

Madam Bones: That is agreeable. The Wizengamot will adjourn and reconvene in this matter at 10 AM tomorrow morning.

* * *

July 6th, 1999  
Severus

"How do you feel?" asks Hermione, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"I am well enough to deal with giving testimony," I reply, spooning scrambled eggs onto my plate. "Madam Bones is living up to her agreement to make this an inquiry and not a trial. I do not doubt that I will be made uncomfortable with some of the questions, but it is not as bad as it could be."

"With Albus Dumbledore dead," comments Hermione, passing a plate of toast, "I wondered if Bones would continue to follow whatever deal she made with Dumbledore."

"It's all about political advantage," says Jean, spearing a sausage. "Madam Bones has a mess to clean up at the Ministry. According to the gossip at the Department of Mysteries, just in the last week two marked Death Eaters were exposed in the Office of the Exchequer. Merlin only knows what Scrimgeour is going to find when he works his way through the ranks of the Aurors with his bottles of Veritaserum."

"You're saying that Bones wants the distraction of the inquiry without the trouble of another scandal to clean up?" asks Potter, pouring tea.

"The Order capturing Voldemort instead of the Ministry is small potatoes compared to what she's finding as she purges her own ranks," says Remus, helping himself to coffee. "She wants this to stay an inquiry and keep taking the headlines without creating new issues she has to deal with. Besides, if she backs out of her agreement with Albus, she will alienate the members of the Order. That will give her even more political problems to contend with."

"I wonder how many decades it will take to clean up the Ministry?" asks Potter.

"More than I've got left in my lifetime," says Chester, reaching for the jar of marmalade. "It's a never-ending cycle. One group gets in and they stay for twenty years and become corrupt. The next group takes over and they do the same thing. We always end up having to throw the rascals out. I'll admit that this time is particularly egregious, what with Death Eaters and all." He looks at me and winks. "Present company excepted, of course."

We are sitting around the dining room table at headquarters. Fortunately, Dobby has returned to work and Winch is now head house-elf at Malfoy Manor. Magical Law Enforcement returned the Manor to Lucius' possession a few days ago and considerable work is being done on the house and grounds to make them fit for the family to return.

Narcissa is recovering, slowly. She is able to be out of bed for reasonable lengths of time and is eating solid food again. Ellen says that it will take several weeks for her to be completely back to normal.

This means that Lucius and I are both eligible to testify. Our situation is complicated by Albus' death. There were many reports that were made only to Albus and he discussed them with other Order members. Without Albus to corroborate our testimony, I am grateful that this is an inquiry and not a trial.

I can vouch for Lucius and he can vouch for me, but we are both former Death Eaters and that diminishes our credibility.

"It's almost time to leave for the Ministry," announces Jean, looking at the clock.

"Show time," says Potter, gathering up his things.

* * *

Lucius looks considerably better than he did when Narcissa was still at St. Mungo's. His hair has been trimmed, his nails are neat, and he has his usual look of disdainful superiority on his face.

All of us witnesses who may be called today are sitting in an anteroom outside of the Wizengamot hearing chamber. We are being monitored by two security witches to ensure that we do not have any conversation pertaining to the hearing.

The whole concept is patently absurd. We have been in constant contact and in some cases, living in the same domicile. If there is any part of this business that we have not discussed, analyzed, or debated between us, it may be the color of the socks Dobby wore the night of the battle.

There are no newspapers or magazines in this room, either. I suppose it is to keep us from reading about the hearings and being influenced by the testimony of others. Considering that the witnesses have done everything short of putting memories of their testimony into a Pensieve and sharing them all around, it is another absurdity.

Fortunately, books are allowed. I have a new book on the use of charms to enhance traditional herbal remedies. It is not quite interesting enough keep me absorbed. Hermione is reading a book on neurological disorders. I wonder if she would trade?

Lucius has nothing to read and sitting there, looking as inscrutable as a sphinx. Jean is reading "Digital Magic Operating Systems for Dummies", a manual she borrowed from Hermione. Hermione is not a dummy. Jean is not a dummy. Why they would read a book for dummies is beyond me.

Potter is reading "The Greatest Moments in Quidditch, 14th Edition" and occasionally mutters to himself and points out something to Jean. They speak for a few moments and then return to their reading.

Sommersby has a copy of "The Iron Lady: A Biography of Margaret Thatcher". Lupin is absorbed in "The Old Man and the Sea".

Percy Weasley stands in the open doorway.

* * *

This room is not large, but very tall. The members of the Wizengamot sit in the six bottom tiers and visitors in the three top tiers. The stairs to each level are steep and some of the less physically able members of the Wizengamot must find them challenging. If anything, the room seems so crowded, it is claustrophobic.

Madam Bones is on the dais to my left. The interrogators have a podium and a table in front of me.

At least there are no arm or leg clamps on the witness chair.

Having given my name and particulars and swearing a wand oath to tell the truth, I take my seat in the witness chair. It is uncomfortable.

"Madam Wellingham, you may begin," instructs Minister Bones.

A tall imposing woman in the purple robes of the Wizengamot rises from the Interrogators' table and stands behind the podium.

"Professor Snape," she begins. "Please tell us about how you became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix while you were a Death Eater."

* * *

"Would the clerk please enumerate the number of times I have reminded the Interrogators that this is a hearing and not a trial?" orders Madam Bones, facetiously.

Percy Weasley begins thumbing through a sheaf of parchments, apparently failing to understand Madam Bones' intent.

The Minister rolls her eyes.

"Never mind, Mr. Weasley," says Bones, with a long suffering sigh. "I believe I have said this at least a dozen times. This is an inquiry into the actions of the Order of the Phoenix, not a trial. Professor Snape was tried at the end of the first war and was found to be guilty, but with mitigating circumstances. His sentence was set aside for all of the activities he engaged in as a Death Eater in recognition of the invaluable information he provided to the Order and the Ministry as a spy. Madam Wellingham, I would remind you and the members of the Wizengamot that Professor Snape cannot be tried again for having joined the Death Eaters."

Interrogator Wellingham looks exceedingly frustrated and then returns to a more collected expression.

"Very well, Minister," she remarks. She looks through her notes and then turns to me once more. "If your role as a spy was revealed to all at the end of the first war, why did Voldemort accept you back at the when he returned?"

"I had no choice but to return to the him," I reply. "I was a marked Death Eater, which meant that Voldemort would find me sooner or later. It seemed a better strategy to return to him and begin spying again, if I could convince him not to kill me."

"Why in the world would Lord Voldemort trust you?" she asks, accusingly.

"He did not," I reply, coldly. "I was supposed to be a double agent who was truly loyal to the Dark Lord's cause. From the Dark Lord's point of view I was teaching at Hogwarts so that I might spy on the Headmaster and report back to him on what I had learned. He knew that I was supposed to be Dumbledore's spy within the Death Eaters. He believed it was part of my cover.

"When he regained a body through the Blood, Flesh and Bone spell, he summoned the Death Eaters to return to him through the Dark Mark. That is how I confirmed to Dumbledore that what Potter witnessed that night was true. I could not Apparate to the Dark Lord immediately because of the chaos after the Tri Wizard Tournament. When I arrived late, the Dark Lord declared me a traitor and cast Crucio on me several times.

"Lucius Malfoy was already there and had been accepted back by the Dark Lord. He vouched for me and said that I had often informed him of Dumbledore's activities and we had looked for opportunities to rebuild the Death Eaters, but felt that with so many of our members in Azkaban and the Dark Lord missing, it was too dangerous."

"So, Lucius Malfoy helped you to establish an alibi with Voldemort?" reiterates Wellingham.

"He did," I testify. "When I recovered sufficiently to speak, Voldemort questioned me extensively about Dumbledore's activities since 1981 and about Harry Potter. I told him enough to convince him that I was loyal."

"He didn't know that you were lying?" asks Wellingham.

"I did not lie about what I told him," I reply. "The things I told him about Albus were things any teacher living at Hogwarts would have known. It was hardly secret information. I admitted to disliking Harry Potter and described him as a spoiled, attention-seeking aspiring celebrity. It clearly fed into beliefs Voldemort already had and helped me to establish myself in his good graces."

"I find it most curious that you have referred to the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort by the term _the Dark Lord_ several times during your testimony," says Wellingham, slyly. "Isn't that what his loyal Death Eaters called him?"

"I have called him that by force of habit," I explain, feeling rather frustrated. "For twenty years, I have worn the Dark Mark. Anyone who uses the term _Lord Voldemort_ in the presence of a marked Death Eater can attract his attention. None of us wanted to draw his attention to us, so we referred to him as _The Dark Lord_. It may take me a while to change that habit."

"I remind the Interrogators that this is an inquiry, not a trial," says Bones, emphatically.

"What sort of Death Eater activities did you participate in?" asks Wellingham.

She believes she has me trapped.

"I was Voldemort's Potions Master, the only one he had. I was also well known by voice and face because of having taught a generation of children at Hogwarts. I was not included in raids because of the risk of being recognized and the difficulty of replacing me if I were killed."

"Tell the Wizengamot about potions you made for Voldemort," she instructs.

"I made a variety of healing potions for the Death Eaters," I explain. "There were potions for various rituals and occasionally for attacks. For example, during October of last year, I brewed the Solvo Ira potion that was released at the Quidditch match between the Highgate Hippogriffs and the Chudley Cannons."

"I do not believe we had a report of that," comments Wellingham, looking confused.

"You did not have a report of it, because I sabotaged the potion by using fresh bleeding juniper leaves instead of dried," I continue. "The potion called for the dried version, which is more concentrated and potent. The fresh leaves weakened the potion to the degree that instead of a riot breaking out, a few fist fights ensued instead."

"Did you use this technique often?" asks Wellingham.

"Whenever I could find a way to sabotage a potion, I did so," I assure her.

"Were there any that you could not sabotage?" she asks, pointedly.

"The healing potions used for Death Eaters and the potions used by the Dark Lord himself," I reply. "Excuse me, I meant Lord Voldemort. If I had attempted to sabotage any of those, I would have been caught. I had to maintain a fine balance between complying with Voldemort's orders and doing what I could to prevent harm from being done. We had no other spies within the Death Eaters at that time and I could not risk being caught."

"Did you brew poisons for Lord Voldemort?" she asks, archly.

"Only during the first war," I reply. "He did not request poisons during the second war."

"I would remind the Interrogator and members of the Wizengamot that Professor Snape is not on trial, here," proclaims Madam Bones. "His deeds during the first war have already been addressed."

"Why didn't he ask for poisons, if you had brewed them successfully during the first war?" asks Wellingham.

"He changed his tactics," I reply. "It was part of an overall change in the structure of the Death Eaters. In 1998, there were fewer raids and less of a push to conquer wizarding Britain. We did not know it at the time, but it was because Voldemort expected to need about a twenty year hiatus before making his real push for conquest."

"Earlier, you said that Lord Voldemort converted the Death Eaters into terrorist cells," comments Wellingham, looking at her notes. "How did this impact on your ability to spy for the Order?"

"It created almost insurmountable problems," I explain. "Voldemort communicated directly to the leaders of each cell. He no longer brought discussions of his plans and strategies to the inner circle. The members of the inner circle were not inclined to confide in each other. The only person I could gain solid information from was Lucius Malfoy?"

"Why was that?" asks Wellingham.

"Lucius and I have been as close as brothers for many years," I confess. "We never discussed it at the time, but he suspected that my loyalties to Voldemort were not as strong as they should be. Lucius is a rather canny politician. He wanted links to both sides."

"Did he simply take advantage of you to provide him with a way to avoid consequences for his actions?" she asks.

"During the first year or two after Voldemort's return, that was probably the case," I explain. "Over time, it changed. It became apparent that Lord Voldemort was becoming increasingly irrational. He used torture and violence to enforce his will on his own followers. His moods became increasingly unpredictable. There was less certainty among the Death Eaters that Lord Voldemort could lead the way to social revolution."

"How do you know that there was less confidence among the Death Eaters about Lord Voldemort?" asks Wellingham.

"Because of my unique position as Lord Voldemort's Potions Master," I explain, "I did not have a cell to supervise and was rarely asked to go out on missions where I might be exposed. That allowed me to spend more of my time at meetings observing the behavior of others. When the Dark Lord first returned, he showed physical changes to his body and looked less human. However, his behavior was much the same as it had been during the first war.

"At that point, he was charismatic and rational. He punished followers for failures, but he had always done so. In the latter part of 1996, it began to change. His moods changed quickly and he was easily offended. He punished Death Eaters severely for minor infractions, such as not kneeling fast enough when he arrived. By 1997, we were all much more careful around him. There was less talking among Death Eaters, because of fear that one careless word could result in serious consequences. My sources of information were drying up and I did not dare cultivate them further because it could easily lead to my exposure as a spy.

"The others did not speak so readily about the glorious future of the wizarding world under Voldemort's leadership, except when that sort of talk was expected during meetings. It appeared that others were quietly reaching the same conclusions that I had."

"When did Lucius Malfoy begin spying for the Order?" asks Wellingham.

"Lucius and I began talking about Voldemort's physical and mental deterioration after I taught Lucius to Occlude his mind," I relate. "I did not dare hold any discussions of such things until I could be certain Lucius could keep Lord Voldemort away from such memories. That was late in 1997. In mid 1998, we had conversations about the future and Lucius more freely discussed his fears that Voldemort was becoming irrational and was as much a threat to his followers as to the social system Voldemort claimed he was trying to change.

"By late 1998, Lucius was actively feeding me information. He knew that my loyalties did not lie with Lord Voldemort or the Death Eaters. In December, 1998, Albus Dumbledore met with Lucius in my presence. He conducted an in-depth probe of Lucius' memories; including those Lucius had hidden behind special barriers. Dumbledore accepted Lucius' services as a spy, with the contingency that he would meet only with me and that I would be the conduit for any information he wanted to pass on."

"Are you suggesting that Lucius Malfoy's decision to spy for the Order was based in a desire for self-preservation?" asks Wellingham.

"I am suggesting that was one reason," I insist. "Voldemort was threatening the families of Death Eaters to ensure their compliance. Lucius wanted to protect his family. He was also well aware that the Dark Lord had become a threat to British wizarding society as a whole. During the first war and right after his return, Voldemort promoted the belief that he was protecting wizarding society from social change brought on by Muggle borns and the rapid population growth among Muggles. By the beginning of 1998, it was apparent that Voldemort's plans made no sense. He was harming pure bloods just as readily as anyone else. He respected no one and nobody. Lucius had come to understand those things and wanted out.

"By the time Lord Voldemort told Lucius what he really wanted from him, Lucius had been spying for us for months."

* * *

"Tell us about the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion," instructs Huntington.

"The Happy-Sleepy potion grew out of an accident at Hogwarts," I begin, tamping down my anger at the memory of a student who sabotaged another girl's potion in the hopes it would embarrass her in front of the boyfriend both of them wanted. "I cannot be specific about aspects of this without revealing ingredients of the Happy-Sleepy potion."

"That is understood and the Ministry does not want the formula for Happy-Sleepy to become public knowledge," states Huntington.

"A student at Hogwarts put an ingredient into a potion that did not belong there," I explain. "It resulted in the bottle exploding in the Potions storage room. Miss Granger was in the storage room at the time. She was holding an experimental potion, which shattered during the explosion and splattered her. Miss Granger was badly injured and required emergency treatment. In the course of the treatment, she realized that something in the experimental potion was suppressing her magic.

"Particular members of the Order were summoned and we worked together to figure out a treatment that would save Miss Granger, while helping us to determine which ingredient in the experimental potion suppressed magic. We worked it out, identified the ingredient, and Miss Granger recovered.

"After that, we targeted our efforts at coming up with a weapon we could use that would suppress Lord Voldemort's magic long enough for us to capture him. We knew that we did not dare kill the shell of his body. His inner core would simply escape and go off to find another body to possess. We needed to capture him alive so he could be studied and determine what it would take to kill his immortal core."

There is a noise up in the visitor's gallery and I notice several of the Wizengamot members looking up and talking among themselves.

Madam Bones gavels several times to quiet the disturbance.

I see Laketha Jones standing on the seventh tier. With her height and dreadlocks, I can see why she might attract attention. Anita Schuler is standing next to her and a man is behind her. Diminutive Keiko Takahashi can be seen bringing up the rear. I believe that is Daniel Schuler who is standing with his back to me. If he is here and recognized, I can understand why that might create a stir.

"Quiet please," orders Madam Bones. "Please quieten down so the witness may continue."

The crowd follows instructions. The new observers take seats and I notice Rita Skeeter attempting to edge her way closer to them.

Good. I would enjoy watching her try to get past Laketha Jones.

"Professor Snape?" says Mr. Huntington, regaining my attention. "Could you please continue?"

"We formed a task force of particular members of the Order who had skills we needed to work on weapon development," I reply.

"Who were those members?" asks Huntington.

"I was leader of the task force," I comment. "The members were Bill Weasley, Jean Lamb, Ellen Smith, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Fred Weasley, Limnoreia Lovegood, George Weasley, and Albus Dumbledore. Other Order members joined the task force as needed."

"Why did you need a Healer on a weapons development task force?" asks Huntington.

"We wanted to take Voldemort alive," I state, simply. "We needed a Healer to ensure that the Happy-Sleepy potion would suppress his magic and not kill him. Healer Smith helped us to determine the dosage incorporated into the Happy-Sleepy orbs."

"Can you tell us how the weapons committee came up with the idea of pelting Lord Voldemort with orbs while flying on brooms?"

"It may have been the Weasley twins who came up with the idea," I reply, scratching my head. "We realized that the Happy-Sleepy potion worked best when inhaled and absorbed through the skin. Fred and George Weasley suggested coming up with the equivalent of a water balloon to hit him with."

There is considerable laughter as the visual image of striking Voldemort with water balloons presents itself.

"So, the diligent work of the weapons task force resulted in the development of the Happy-Sleepy potion?"

"The work was indeed diligent," I reply, intending to clarify. "It does not mean that it proceeded smoothly. Our most difficult task was converting the Happy-Sleepy potion into a form compatible with the container which would strike Voldemort. We struggled with that considerably. In the end, it took several of the committee members traveling to Chicago to work with some of the staff of Avalon College and Daniel Schuler to perfect it."

Now that has the crowd in an uproar. There is a considerable amount of talking among members of the Wizengamot.

Minister Bones is once again pounding the gavel to get silence in the room. It takes more than one threat to empty the visitor's gallery to gain compliance.

"Could you elaborate on the contribution made by the staff of Avalon College and Daniel Schuler?" asks Huntington.

"I was not present when they met to work out the containerization problems with the Happy-Sleepy," I reply. "Members of the committee who went to Chicago said that they received help from teachers from the Charms and Potions Departments and that Mr. Schuler ran the Arithmancy equations that showed how to solve the last of the problems. Prior to that, we were unable to resolve the issue of how to get the Happy-Sleepy into a container that would be safe to handle, shatter when thrown, and cast up a shield that would prevent the Happy-Sleepy from being inhaled by anyone except Voldemort."

"But you managed to resolve this?" Huntington inquires.

"As is evidenced by the attack against Voldemort on June 21st."

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript  
**July 5th, 1999  
Lucius Malfoy

Mr. Huntington: Are you saying that your opinions about the inherent superiority of pure bloods compared to half bloods and Muggleborns are unchanged?

Mr. Malfoy: We separated from the Muggle world for good reason. They outnumber us and would doubtlessly want to force us to use magic for their purposes if we lived among them. The wizarding world has prospered since the separation.

Mr. Huntington: It is well known that Lord Voldemort promoted the idea that pure blooded wizards are superior to all other life forms. In that case, why would you agree to become a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, which is known to advocate for the protection of Muggles from the world of magic.

Mr. Malfoy: It was apparent that Lord Voldemort was insane. Regardless of his political views, Voldemort was increasingly violent towards his followers and their families. He could not be reasoned with and would not accept opinions that differed with his own. He had threatened harm to my wife and son in order to gain access to my family fortune and my own compliance. One of the reasons my wife and I agreed to allow Draco to attend Avalon College was to put him out of the Dark Lord's reach. As far as we knew, Voldemort had no operatives in the United States.

Mr. Huntington: You changed sides because of the threat to your wife and son?

Mr. Malfoy: That was the primary reason. It was one thing for me to pay the price for my foolishness in having believed in Lord Voldemort. It is another for them to be punished for my error in judgment.

Mr. Huntington: Do you believe that Lord Voldemort could win?

Mr. Malfoy: In spite of being insane, Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard I have ever known. I believe he could have won and in doing so, the wizarding world would have been plunged into violence and darkness of a sort that we have never seen before. It would all depend on his mood on any given day.

Mr. Huntington: Is it true that Tom Riddle had special plans for your family?

Mr. Malfoy: On the evening of May 9th, Voldemort informed Severus Snape and me that he had come to the conclusion that he could not continue to live in his shell. He said that it was inadequate to his needs and his magic. He said that he wanted a new body.

Mr. Huntington: Where was that body to come from?

Mr. Malfoy: The Dark Lord said that he wanted a healthy body that would have the capacity to contain his magic. He told us that he wanted my wife and me to have another child and that he would possess it at birth.

Madam Bones: Order please! Order. Order. If this room does not come to order, I will summon Aurors to escort disrupters outside of the building.

Mr. Huntington: Please continue.

Madam Bones: Please escort that group on the eighth tier out of this hearing room, immediately. That includes Ms. Skeeter.

Mr. Huntington: Please continue, Mr. Malfoy.

Mr. Malfoy: The Dark Lord used terms that made it sound like a request, but I knew I did not dare to refuse. I did what was expected and dropped to my knees, thanked Lord Voldemort profusely for the honor he was bestowing on me and my family.

Mr. Huntington: Did he offer you any incentives for agreeing to this?

Mr. Malfoy: He offered to make me the Viceroy of Europe after conquering Europe and to make my son the Viceroy of North America. We were to serve him as Emperor and rule on his behalf.

Madam Bones: If I have to gavel this room quiet one more time, I will eject the press and the visitors' tiers.

Mr. Huntington: Please continue.

Mr. Malfoy: It was all a lie. I knew full well that what Voldemort wanted was my name, status, fortune, and the body he believed my wife and I could produce for him. He told me that Narcissa and Draco would be given special Dark Marks. The marks would allow him to bring them to his side in an instant, no matter where they were. They would also cause any harm done to him to be done to them. In spite of what he said about familial love, I knew that when he came of age in his new body, he would kill all of us. He was ensuring that I would protect him until he came of age, because I would love all my children.

Mr. Huntington: What happened after he made this request of you?

Mr. Malfoy: The request that was no request at all? He put Narcissa and me under guard at Malfoy Manor. We were kept prisoners in our own home.

Mr. Huntington: Who were your guards?

Mr. Malfoy: Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Edmund Rutherford, Ima LeDrox, and other Death Eaters.

Mr. Huntington: How did you manage to communicate with the Order?

Mr. Malfoy: Immediately after we were incarcerated at the Manor, I made contact with Severus Snape using our paired journals. I assured him that I had agreed to Voldemort's proposal strictly under duress and begged him to approach the Order to save us. I communicated with Draco, using another set of paired journals, and ordered him to stay in the United States and do exactly what Snape told him to do. If necessary, Draco was to approach Daniel Schuler and ask for help to go into hiding.

Mr. Huntingon: Daniel Schuler? Why would your son go to him?

Mr. Malfoy: Draco is involved in a relationship with Schuler's daughter. I hoped that it would keep him safe.

Mr. Huntington: What did you do after that?

Mr. Malfoy. I did not dare keep the journals, even to wait for a reply. There was too much risk that they would be found and I did not want to have to try and explain them. I gave them to my chief house-elf to destroy.

Mr. Huntington: How did you maintain contact with the Order after that?

Mr. Malfoy: House-elves. A former Malfoy house-elf called Dobby was in the employ of the Order of the Phoenix. He knew how to get around the grounds and the house, which allowed him to pass messages to Pudding, our chief house-elf. Pudding would look for opportunities to communicate with Narcissa and me out of earshot of the guards.

Mr. Huntington: Madam Bones. It is getting late and I am not done questioning Mr. Malfoy. We have not spoken to a number of other witnesses who are on our list and will not have time to interview them. May I suggest adjourning for the day?

Madam Bones: Very well. This hearing before the Wizengamot is adjourned until tomorrow at 10 AM.

* * *

Severus  
Evening

"Father," says Draco, "I just don't think you should use that term around Severus, anymore."

"Mudblood?" sighs Lucius, sounding exceedingly disgruntled. "The next thing you know, we will be expected to refer to Muggles as non-magical human beings. This business of _political correctness_, as you call it, will turn my hair white."

"What is going to turn your hair whiter than it already is, my dear?" asks Narcissa, as we step into the parlor and pretend we heard no part of the conversation between Lucius and Draco.

Draco is entirely correct that Lucius should stop using the term mudblood, if he wishes to stay on good terms with me. I will not tolerate him treating Hermione with anything less than the respect that is due to any witch, let alone my intended.

"We were discussing the concept of _political correctness_," says Draco, attempting to cover for his father. "That has to do with using terminology that avoids labeling people in ways that they find offensive."

"Who defines what is offensive?" asks Narcissa

I pull out her chair at the dining room table. Once she is seated, the rest of us take our seats.

"The person who is being described decides if it is offensive," says Draco. "For example, when someone who walks with a limp is referred to asa_ gimp_, they might find it offensive. Calling someone who wears spectacles _four eyes_ would be another example."

"Those terms are rather lower class forms of name calling," declares Narcissa. "I can understand why people would be offended by that."

The soup course appears before us in elegant gold rimmed bowls. It appears to be asparagus bisque.

"I believe it extends beyond name calling," I interject. "It includes how entire groups are referred to in terms with derogatory connotations. Racial or national stereotypes would be an example. Referring to the Irish as _Paddies_ would be considered insulting. It can even be more innocuous, such as referring to humankind instead of mankind to keep from implying a gender bias."

"I see your point," says Narcissa, delicately wiping her lips with her serviette. "We do tend to say the _wizarding _world instead of the _witching_ world. It rather ignores that half of us are female."

"In some ways," I clarify, "it might even be interpreted that somehow witches are less skilled or capable than wizards."

"Come now," interjects Lucius, sneering. "No witch of my acquaintance would ever assume that referring to the wizarding world excludes witches or demeans them in any way."

"Have you ever asked them?" inquires Narcissa, demurely.

"Why would I ask them something so obvious?" asks Lucius, looking genuinely confused. "When it comes to magic, gender makes no difference in power or skill. It is true that there are certain magics that can only be performed by men and there are others that can only be used by women, but that is reality and not a bias."

"Magic may not have a gender bias," observes Narcissa, "but our culture does."

"We divide our responsibilities based on nature," says Lucius, sagely. "Child rearing comes naturally to women as does providing to men."

I never would have expected Narcissa to snort in response to a statement by her husband.

"At what point did child rearing come naturally to Bella?" asks Narcissa, pointedly. "At what point did providing come naturally to Rudolphus?"

Lucius looks nonplussed. He takes a sip of his wine to give himself time to formulate an answer.

"Of course there are exceptions to every rule," replies Lucius, carefully. "I was speaking of our respective genders as a whole. In every culture, women are more likely to have the primary responsibility for child rearing and men for hunting."

"I will grant that women bear the children and come equipped to feed them for a period of time," says Narcissa, with an air of infinite patience.

Draco blushes and pays closer attention to his soup.

"However," she continues, "I daresay that men were relegated to the role of providing because they could not be trusted with the children. They were too busy hunting, drinking, and getting into trouble. The species would have died out if women had not taken charge of the children."

"My thoughts exactly," affirms Lucius, with a husband's sure knowledge of when to nod his head and say _Yes, dear._

"That does not relieve any of us of the duty to be considerate of others," says Narcissa, gently. "For that reason, the term mudblood is banned from use by this family." The latter part is said sternly.

"Of course, Mother," says Draco, dutifully.

Lucius is too busy with his soup to respond with anything other than a slight nod of the head.

I daresay I shall never hear that term again from Lucius.

"I have owled Molly Weasley," adds Narcissa. "We will call on the Weasleys at the Burrow on Sunday afternoon to discuss the Claiming contract between Severus and Hermione Granger."

I smile at Narcissa with appreciation. She smiles warmly in return.

"I have also issued an invitation to the Schulers to join us for dinner on Friday evening, before they return to the United States," she says. "I understand why Anita had to return to the hotel and stay with her parents, but I do miss her company. She is a lively young lady."

"She is, isn't she Mum?" says Draco, his face lighting up.

"I can understand why you will miss her," says Narcissa. "I appreciate your willingness to stay close to home while I recover and we sort out the Wizengamot and all the rest."

Narcissa looks at me whimsically.

"Would you care to bring your young lady to dine with all of us on Friday?" asks Narcissa. "I realize that it is before the official courtship can begin, but she already knows Anita and I would very much like to get to know the woman who saved my life."

"I will ask her," I reply, smiling.

I am ready to leave the past behind and begin to build my future.

* * *

Author's notes

Thank you to all of my reviewers: HinataMorningstar, Legilimens31, Nikki, Brillant, Squeaker19450, Ismene5, KellyRoxton, Chaotizitaet, Not so Chicken Little, Lipasnape, Luvinthunder, Darque Hart, Stelze, Mnokat, Sinkme, T wrecks, Karla Manatee, Machshefa, Klschmidt, Mother of Tears, Erytha, Angel-65, Lonelygirl54, Jade2099, MysticSong1978, Traceyww, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Werforpsu, MollysSister, Missblujuju, Pickles87, Dressagegrrrl, Nutters4Potter, She is brighter, Orangutangirl, bluedecor, graynavarre, Fatalani-Zabini, Charmed Force, Latinachikita, KimJo, MoreThanSirius, Pickles and Twigs, Snapeygirl, o0morgana0o, Sylphides, Mrs.HermioneSeverusSnape, Dverducci Bubblemilktea, Magicdaisy, Narcissa-M, Lovethelab, TofuLove, Wow, Duj, Jocemum, Laurenke1, Lovechilde, Padslet, AdrianSnape, Kirien, Trulyamused, Koliber, Allycat1186, Amsev, Oscarxena, Arime Setta, Mel Keen, 7differentdoors, Rinny08, Snakegirl-sprockett, Annie, Notwritten, Droxy, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Littlexbunnyxfooxfoo, MamaJMarie, Lyndie578, Keske, Kittykat91419, Seth7, Maddie50, Walk.in.the.rain, Thetexasmama, LadyAnduril, Excessivelyperky, Kcole, Quiet-mg, Shadow and Kayleigh.


	108. Chapter 108

It would help if I owned this.

Thank you to Julia for your input.

* * *

July 9th, 1999

Official – Pending Final Review  
Wizengamot Hearing  
Case Number 1999-D173B

Inquiry into Capture of Tom Marvolo Riddle (Aka: Lord Voldemort) by Order of the Phoenix

The above entitled matter came before the Wizengamot on June 25th, 1999 at 9:00 AM. Sessions occurred on June 25th, 28th, 29th and July 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th

Appearances

Witnesses:  
Hermione Jane Granger, Order of the Phoenix, Ottery St. Catchpole  
Augustus Hensley, Warden, Azkaban Island  
Jean Lamb, Department of Magical Weights and Measures, London  
Roger Littlehorse: Avalon College, Chicago, United States  
Limnoreia Lovegood, Lovegood Warding, Inc., London  
Draco Malfoy, Student, Wiltshire  
Lucius Malfoy, Financier, Wiltshire  
Josiah Mittleton, Healer, Azkaban Island  
Harry Potter, Apprentice Auror, London  
Ellen Smith, Healer, St. Mungo's Hospital, London  
Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland  
Chester Sommersby, Order of the Phoenix, Wales  
Nymphadora Tonks, Magical Law Enforcement, London

Interrogators for the Wizengamot:  
Edelworth Huntington, Member  
Elizabeth Wellingham, Member

Office of the Minister for Magic  
Amelia Bones, Minister  
Percy Weasley, Aide

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 6th, 1999  
Interrogation of Chester Sommersby

Mr. Huntington: In previous testimony, you stated that the Order of the Phoenix made a decision to take the war to Lord Voldemort, instead of just responding to attacks. How was the decision made to launch an attack on June 21st?

Mr. Sommersby: It was when Severus Snape came to us with the piece of intelligence that Riddle had decided that the Malfoys needed to have another child so that he could possess it and become a member of the Malfoy family. Riddle told them that he wanted the conception to take place on June 21st in order to give the child the most auspicious start possible. It was one of the reasons he arranged for the fertility potions to be stolen when he was unable to obtain the services of a maiden brewer. He wanted to ensure the conception would take place that specific night.

Mr. Huntington: Just because the conception was supposed to take place on June 21st didn't mean that Lord Voldemort had to be present. Why did the Order assume that he would be present?

Mr. Sommersby: We did not assume anything. Riddle stated that he wanted to give Draco and Narcissa Malfoy special Dark Marks. Through messages passed between Dobby and Pudding, word was given to Madam Malfoy that she should request those happen on the 21st, too. Since Lord Voldemort always personally awarded Dark Marks, it meant that he would be present on the 21st. For the first time, we knew where and when Tom Riddle would be in a specific location. This made it possible to plan an attack to go after him.

Mr. Huntington: That did not guarantee he would be there.

Mr. Sommersby: No, it did not. But, it was the best we could do and we had to take the chance.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 6th, 1999  
Interrogation of Limnoreia Lovegood

Mr. Huntington: What preparations were made to take down the wards at Malfoy Manor?

Ms. Lovegood: Draco Malfoy gave us extensive information about the warding at the Manor. The last time Draco visited the Manor before the battle, Lucius Malfoy gave him control of the family wards. Lucius acknowledged that he was essentially incapacitated by virtue of being imprisoned in the Manor. That allowed Draco to take control as the magically designated heir. My understanding is that the necessary communication was passed between them via the house-elves.

In addition to that information, we also planned to have the Order's experts on warding present to take down the wards. I was in charge of a team including Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley, Chester Sommersby and Albus Dumbledore. We wanted to be ready for anything. Then Severus told us that he suspected the Dark Lord would use a human sacrifice to set his own wards around the Manor.

Mr. Huntington: For the benefit of those who do not understand the significance of this, could you elaborate?

Ms. Lovegood: Historically, human sacrifices have been used to set virtually impenetrable wards. Such wards cannot be removed without using another human sacrifice to do it. Wards set with a willing human sacrifice can only be removed by using a volunteer who will commit suicide or agree to be killed for that purpose. Wards set through an unwilling human sacrifice can be taken down using either a willing or unwilling human sacrifice.

Obviously, we did not have a good solution for any of these situations. We had an Order member who had a terminal illness volunteer to commit suicide to bring down the wards, but we certainly didn't want to do that. Fortunately, we had someone join us who had a unique talent for breaking wards. He took down the wards and then Dumbledore and Sommersby cast anti-Apparition wards to prevent anyone escaping from the grounds. Every time Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters managed to take down our wards, they would immediately recast them. We didn't have anyone escape.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 6th, 1999  
Interrogation of Roger Littlehorse

Madam Wellingham: Professor Littlehorse, you have been described as having a unique talent. Would you elaborate on that?

Professor Littlehorse: I do not have the unique talent as much as my Animagus form does.

Madam Wellingham: Which would be?

Professor Littlehorse: I can turn into a Thunderbird. There are legends among the tribes of North America that speak of a giant bird that carries lightning and thunder. The lightning of the Thunderbird can shatter wards, even wards set by a willing human sacrifice.

Madam Bones: Silence please. Bailiff, please remove the person with the camera from the visitor's gallery.

Madam Wellingham: Did your Thunderbird participate in the attack on June 21st?

Professor Littlehorse: It did. I arrived at the perimeter of the grounds with the team of ward breakers. We assessed the wards and determined that a human sacrifice had been used to set the wards. Ms. Lovegood determined that it was an involuntary sacrifice, which made us more hopeful since my ability to break sacrificial wards had never been tested, for obvious reasons.

Madam Wellingham: How did you know that a Thunderbird could break sacrificial wards if it hadn't been tested?

Professor Littlehorse: The legends among my people said that the Thunderbird could do it, but there have been very few Thunderbirds over the years. The last time there was a Thunderbird was about four hundred years ago, so everything we know about Thunderbirds has been passed on through oral tradition. There was no way to confirm the stories. We decided to take the risk.

Madam Wellingham: What would have happened if you hadn't been able to break through the human sacrifice?

Professor Littlehorse: There was someone who was ready to commit suicide, if it had come to that.

Madam Wellingham: Do you know the identity of that person?

Professor Littlehorse: I believe it was Chester Sommersby.

Madam Bones: Silence in the hearing room.

Madam Wellingham: How did you break the wards around Malfoy Manor?

Professor Littlehorse: Before the flyers took to the air, I changed into the Thunderbird and flew as high as I could to the center of the estate. I cast lightning into the wards and shattered them.

Madam Wellingham: What happened then?

Professor Littlehorse: The flyers took to the air, aiming for the hill with the bonfire. They attacked the Death Eaters there to give the ground troops time to cross the fields to reach the hill.

Madam Wellingham: What did you do during the battle?

Professor Littlehorse: I flew overhead and cast lightning when I saw a cluster of Death Eaters without any Order members nearby. I also helped with Greyback.

Madam Wellingham: We have been given to understand that Fenrir Greyback met with a particularly unpleasant ending. Could you enlighten us?

Professor Littlehorse: Werewolves are difficult to capture or kill because of their physiology. I knew that my colleagues in the Order might have an exceptionally difficult time with him, so when he was pointed out to me, I swooped down and grabbed him. Although he was not in his werewolf form, he kept trying to bite me. I dropped him sooner than I had planned, so I hit him with a lightning bolt on the way down to make certain that he was dead.

Madam Bones: Order, please.

Madam Wellingham: Is there anyone else you executed in such a manner?

Madam Bones: Interrogator Wellingham, I must remind you that the Wizengamot has already classified the Battle of Malfoy Manor as exactly that. It was a battle in a war. If you examine the death certificate of Fenrir Greyback or any other Death Eater killed during the battle, you will see that all of them are classified as casualties of war. There were no executions committed during the battle.

Madam Wellingham: I withdraw the question.

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 6th, 1999  
Interrogation of Harry Potter

Mr. Huntington: How many flyers did you have during the battle?

Auror Potter: We had twenty-two.

Mr. Huntington: How did you determine who was qualified to fly?

Auror Potter: Several of the flyers came to a practice session in the United States. I think we had ten who were able to come to that. The others, like Oliver Wood and Madam Hooch, were qualified because they flew with brooms for a living. The others claimed expertise from having been on an amateur Quidditch team in recent years or were vouched for by Madam Hooch. We had a few people volunteer that she said didn't have sufficient skill, so they weren't allowed to join the flyers.

Mr. Huntington: Oliver Wood played professional Quidditch. Madam Hooch formerly played for England and taught flying at Hogwarts. Both of them were killed during the battle. I would make the observation that flying experience did not save them.

Auror Potter: We were dodging hexes and curses from Death Eaters and Voldemort the whole time we were flying. It was better after the ground troops arrived because they could flush out the Death Eaters who were firing at us from trees and brush where we couldn't see them. We did take casualties. I saw Madam Hooch and Oliver hit by Avada Kedavra coming from the area where Voldemort was standing.

The fighters on the ground took casualties, too. We were all volunteers. None of had to be there. We made a choice to fight for a cause we believed in and some of us paid the ultimate price.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 6th, 1999  
Interrogation of Mark Smith

Mr. Huntington: What is this thing?

Mr. Smith: It's a BludgeSucker. Mike Lamb and I took a Bludger and modified it to do some real damage.

Mr. Huntington: What does it do?

Mr. Smith: Severus Snape allowed us to record the image and magical signature of a Death Eater mask. We charmed the BludgeSucker to go after anyone wearing one. That's one of the reasons why Snape and Malfoy ditched their masks and robes at first opportunity.

Mr. Huntington: What happens when it catches up with a masked Death Eater?

Mr. Smith: It smashes into the mask and caves in the Death Eater's face. In some cases, it caught the Death Eater in the back of the head trying to reach the mask. I think that there are some photographs of that in your packet.

Mr. Huntington: Yes, I believe there are. They are available to be passed around, if any members of the Wizengamot wish to see them.

Mr. Weasley: I have them here, sir. Please raise your hand if you would like to see them.

Madam Bones: No, Ms. Skeeter. They are not available to the press or members of the public.

Mr. Huntington: What would happen if someone who is not a Death Eater got in the way?

Madam Bones: Excuse me. Bailiff, would you please escort Mr. Ogden to the Mediwizard's office and clean up that mess. If anyone else feels nauseated, please express it outside of this hearing room. Please continue, Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith: The BludgeSucker would screech to a halt before it hit them and kiss them. Actually, we should probably call this version The BludgePuncher or BludgeHammer or something like that. It really is intended to hurt people. We have another version that only kisses and kind of sucks on a person when it hits them. That is the version that is going to be sold as The BludgeSucker.

Mr. Huntington: Sucks on a person?

Mr. Smith: Clever, isn't it?

Madam Bones: Quiet, please.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Draco Malfoy

Madam Wellingham: Tell us about your Patronus, Mr. Malfoy.

Mr. D. Malfoy: My Patronus used to be a peregrine falcon. Since the night of the battle, it has changed into the Piasa Bird.

Madam Wellingham: What exactly is a Piasa Bird?

Mr. D. Malfoy: It is a monster with a human-like face, antlers, huge scale covered wings and body, talons, and a tail as long as its body. According to legends among the Illini Indians, the Piasa Bird is the defender of their tribe and a man eater.

Madam Wellingham: When did you cast your Patronus?

Mr. D. Malfoy: When the Dementors showed up during the battle. Up until then, I didn't realize that my Patronus had changed.

Madam Wellingham: What did it do?

Mr. D. Malfoy: It appeared to eat some of the Dementors. I couldn't see it after that.

Madam Wellingham: Did you know that it could do that?

Mr. D. Malfoy: It came as a complete surprise to me. I suppose it came as a surprise to the Dementors, too.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Nymphadora Tonks

Madam Wellingham: What role did you play in the attack on Malfoy Manor?

Auror Tonks: I was the leader of the battlefield observers. Our job was to get as close to Lord Voldemort as possible so that we could watch the effects of the Happy-Sleepy potion and estimate how many hits it took for him to lose his ability to use magic.

Madam Wellingham: You did not take an active part in the fighting?

Auror Tonks: We were supposed to only engage in defensive actions. We stuck to that as long as we could, but when it reached the point that the flyers were running out of Happy-Sleepy orbs, we had to attack in order to get to the fighters who were closest to Voldemort.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Hermione Granger

Mr. Huntington: You were in charge of the Happy-Sleepy orbs?

Ms. Granger: They were in the waistcoat that I was wearing. When I realized that the flyers must be running out of orbs, I had to get them to the fighters. I saw Harry Potter was closest to me and ran towards him to pass one over to him. He grabbed it and ran towards Voldemort.

Mr. Huntington: Who else did you give orbs to?

Ms. Granger: I saw Lucius Malfoy and ran towards him. He had been fighting against the Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort, so I figured he would understand what to do with it. He took the orb and dashed off towards Voldemort, too. Next, I saw Professor Snape running towards me. I was firing at a Death Eater when the Professor grabbed the orb from my hand and pushed me down. I was hit and everything went black after that.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Lucius Malfoy

Mr. Huntington: According to previous testimony, you and Professor Snape were dueling a number of Death Eaters who had surrounded Lord Voldemort?

Mr. L. Malfoy: Severus Snape and I have practiced dueling with each other for more than twenty years. We know each other's style and moves at an almost instinctive level through countless hours of drills. Using that knowledge, we were able to alternate offensive and defensive spells and moves to protect each other. That allowed us to take out the Lestrange brothers and several others.

Mr. Huntington: We have heard from Miss Granger that she gave you an orb. What did you do with it?

Mr. L. Malfoy: I had seen how the orbs were used and simply imitated what I had observed. Potter struck the Dark Lord with one. I waited for the blue shield to drop and hit the Dark Lord with the one Granger gave me. It was a moment I shall long cherish in my memory. The Dark Lord intended to destroy my family and our society. I will always be grateful to the Order and to the Fates that I was permitted to have a hand in his downfall.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Severus Snape

Mr. Huntington: What happened when Tom Riddle fell?

Professor Snape: He collapsed from Happy-Sleepy intoxication. I approached him and sent off a Fireworks charms as the signal to the Order that the Dark Lord had fallen. Potter came after me and confiscated his wand. I looked around and saw the fighting had stopped. The remaining living Death Eaters were put in Body Binds and there was a certain amount of jubilation among the Order members.

Once we had the situation under control, we realized we still had to deal with Ima LeDrox, who was guarding Narcissa Malfoy at the Manor.

Mr. Huntington: She was the only remaining Death Eater on the estate who was not in custody. How did you deal with her?

Professor Snape: The Order members agreed to hold back and allow Lucius, Draco and me to go to the Manor to try and trick LeDrox into giving us access to Narcissa. We wanted to avoid further bloodshed, if we could. Lucius and I donned Death Eater robes and entered the solarium with Draco behind us. The house was darkened and the detection spells we cast did not reveal where Ima LeDrox and Narcissa Malfoy were.

That was when she grabbed Draco.

Mr. Huntington: Who grabbed Draco?

Professor Snape: Ima LeDrox. She managed to nullify all of our detection spells and seized Draco to use as a hostage. We tried to lie to her. Lucius told her that the Order had broken the wards using a giant bird and that the Dark Lord had fallen when his true self was absorbed into an ancient statue carried by Albus Dumbledore.

We told LeDrox that we had come back for her and Narcissa so that we could flee England and go to France where Lucius had money hidden for our escape. She did not believe us and was getting ready to kill Draco. He used his new skills as an Animagus to turn into a peregrine falcon and threw her off balance. It was enough that he was able to break free and we all began to fight.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 7th, 1999  
Interrogation of Draco Malfoy

Madam Wellingham: Mr. Malfoy, please tell us what happened after you began to fight with Ima LeDrox.

Mr. D. Malfoy: LeDrox was using non-verbal magic. She was lashing out with blasting and cutting spells. She hit Professor Snape in the arm with a cutting spell of some sort, blasted me and my father off of our feet. My mother was in the room. She was tied up and sitting on a chair in the corner. Professor Snape and I both saw her and we were trying to make our way over to her. My father realized that was what we were doing and tried to keep LeDrox's attention on him. They were dueling.

When she realized what Professor Snape and I were trying to do, she exploded the windows of the solarium and glass went flying everywhere. The Professor threw himself over my mother to protect her. I could see that he was hurt, but my father and I had our hands full trying to defend ourselves and attack LeDrox.

I've watched Death Eaters in practice duels and never saw anyone fight harder than she did.

Madam Wellingham: Are you a Death Eater?

Mr. D. Malfoy: No. I completely disagree with a lot of the things that Death Eaters are supposed to believe in. I was playing along with the plan to be initiated as a Death Eater in order to give the Order a way to attack the Dark Lord.

Madam Wellingham: Please continue describing what you saw during the fight in the solarium of Malfoy Manor.

Mr. D. Malfoy: After the windows exploded, we heard what sounded like the Thunderbird's cry overhead. That signaled us that the Order was on the way. I heard noises from the hallway and saw Apprentice Auror Ron Weasley dive in through the door. Two other Aurors came in throw one of the broken windows. LeDrox hit all three of them with non-verbal Avada Kedavras. I saw the green light and they just fell.

Then, LeDrox whirled around and did another non-verbal spell. LeDrox hit my mother with it and I saw her slide out of the chair, bleeding from her stomach. Professor Snape tried to spell a healing potion into her, but LeDrox hit him with something that made his face bleed and he passed out.

Jean Lamb hit LeDrox with a cutting curse and my father nailed her with an Avada Kedavra and killed her.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 8th, 1999  
Interrogation of Jean Lamb

Mr. Huntington: What led up to storming the solarium?

Madam Lamb: The Aurors had been summoned, but hadn't arrived. When we saw the spell flash, we realized that there was a fight going on in the solarium. Kingsley Shacklebolt was the ranking Auror present. He decided that the Order members who were Aurors would take the lead. He expressed the opinion that they were the most qualified to deal with whatever fight was going on in there.

Apprentice Aurors Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were to come in through the hallway. Shacklebolt and Leta Burns were to come in through the windows. Limnoreia Lovegood and I were back-up for the hallway. Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, and Mike Lamb were back-up for the windows.

The Aurors were the first in. Ima LeDrox was on a spelling spree, casting non-verbal attack spells one after another. That's what threw all of us off. It's difficult enough to do non-verbal spells, but to cast offensive spells the way that she did was completely unexpected. I have made an in-depth study of Dark magic and have never heard or read of anyone who could cast a non-verbal Avada Kedavra.

In a duel, your opponent's body language and even the movements of their lips when they prepare to cast can give you a clue as to what they are about to cast. Non-verbal spells take away a good portion of that advantage. You don't know what to shield for or even to duck and get out of the way.

The Avada Kedavras took down Ronald Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Leta Burns just as soon as they got inside of the solarium. I cast the strongest shields I could in front of Potter and myself. I could see past where Lucius Malfoy was trying to break through Ima LeDrox's shields and saw that Narcissa Malfoy looked like she was bleeding to death. Severus Snape was down, his face and neck a mass of blood.

I cast a cutting curse as narrowly as I could between Malfoy and LeDrox and it hit her in the arm. That distracted her long enough for Lucius Malfoy to hit her with an Avada Kedavra. That took her down.

Mr. Huntington: Could Lucius Malfoy have used something other than an Unforgiveable to stop Ima LeDrox?

In my opinion, there was no way that any of us could have hit Ima LeDrox with anything less than the Killing Curse to stop her from killing anyone else. She was that good and I think that she had decided she was going down fighting. She killed three people and nearly killed two others. We would have had more fatalities if Lucius Malfoy hadn't used Avada Kedavra.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 8th, 1999  
Interrogation of Ellen Smith

Madam Wellingham: When you arrived at the solarium, what did you find?

Healer Smith: There were three dead Aurors and two critically injured civilians. Narcissa Malfoy was a victim of the Entrail Expelling curse. It causes the abdomen to split and intestines to be expelled through the opening.

Madam Bones: Quiet please. I will have silence in this hearing room.

Madam Wellingham: Please continue.

Healer Smith: Severus Snape had been hit by an unknown curse that caused the skin to be flayed from his head and neck.

Madam Bones: I do not wish to have to repeat myself. Bailiff, please escort Mr. Ogden and Madam Beaufort to Mediwizard's office and clean up that mess before you go. Percy, would you please cast a deodorizing charm?

Madam Wellingham: How did you treat two such horrific injuries at the same time?

Healer Smith: Fortunately, the Virgo Curato was available. A partial dose had been spelled into Madam Malfoy's blood stream. It kept her heart beating and started retracting her intestines back into her body. Severus Snape had a full dose given to him, which stabilized his condition. Without the Virgo Curato, both of them would have died before I arrived.

Madam Wellingham: What is the Virgo Curato?

Healer Smith: It is an exceptionally rare and powerful healing potion. It is created by a couple and the degree to which they love each other is expressed through the power of the potion.

Madam Wellingham: Is this a maiden brewed potion?

Healer Smith: It is.

Madam Wellingham: How did the Order come to acquire it?

Healer Smith: That is no one's business except for the couple who made it. I decline to answer.

Madam Wellingham: I must insist.

Healer Smith: I must decline.

Madam Bones: Interrogator Wellingham, is the knowledge of who created these particular doses of a healing potion relevant to understanding the events that led up to the capture of Tom Riddle?

Madam Wellingham: If this potion is so powerful that it can virtually pull a victim back from the brink of death, we should have more of it available. Or, what if such a thing were administered to Tom Riddle, healing him of his medical conditions? This is a powerful potion and should be regulated.

Healer Smith: May I?

Madam Bones: Please proceed, Healer Smith.

Healer Smith: It is called the Virgo Curato because to brew it, one or both of the partners must be a virgin. The other partner must be celibate for a period of time. The stronger the love between the two, the stronger the healing qualities of the potion. It is difficult to find a couple who meet those qualifications and who also have the skill to brew such a potion. The couple who made it cannot make it again.

Secondly, I don't think you need to worry about Tom Riddle being given a bottle of it. The potion only works for individuals who are dear to at least one of the partners. I doubt that Riddle has anyone who loves him enough and is also a virgin willing to create a healing potion for him.

This potion cannot be sold and have it work. It must be given by one of the makers. There is no point in regulating it, under those conditions.

As for the makers. I reiterate that it is no one's business to know who made it.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 8th, 1999  
Interrogation of Augustus Hensley

Mr. Huntington: Please tell the members of the Wizengamot about security surrounding Tom Marvolo Riddle?

Warden Hensley: Riddle is kept in a specially constructed cell. It is essentially a cell completely contained within a room in the most secure part of Azkaban. We did not want it up against any outside walls. The cell, itself, is ten feet by ten feet and contains a bed and a chamber pot that vanishes all contents. There is an observation window built into one of the walls. The window is physically and magically unbreakable. There is no part of the room where Riddle can go and not be seen. Even the base of his bed is constructed from solid rock.

We have two mirrors set into the wall across from the window. Those mirrors are paired with another set of mirrors. One is in my office and the other in the anteroom to my office.

Riddle is watched twenty-four hours a day. His guards wear mirrored sunglasses so that he cannot make eye contact with them. There are two guards watching him at all times through the observation window. There is another guard watching Riddle and the other two guards through the mirror in my anteroom. There are three sets of eyes watching him at all times.

I check my mirror several times each day and have visited the room where his cell is constructed daily. The former Lord Voldemort is the most important prisoner we have and we are taking no chances.

Mr. Huntington: How is Happy-Sleepy administered?

Warden Hensley: It is infused into the air of his cell at specific times throughout the day. We follow the dosage prescribed by Healer Smith of St. Mungo's.

I have spent time watching him, as well. I would describe him as lethargic. He occasionally paces in his cell, but for the most part, Riddle is inactive and lays on the bed, which is kept warm for him. He is offered the same meals provided to all inmates. He eats poorly, so our Healer is spelling nutritive potions into his stomach.

Mr. Huntington: Is he showing any signs of magic?

Warden Hensley: None at all. I have watched Riddle attempt to do wandless magic without any sign of success. He moves his hands and arms and says the words to spells. Nothing happens.

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 8th, 1999  
Interrogation of Josiah Mittleton

Mr. Huntington: You are currently the Healer in Residence at Azkaban?

Healer Mittleton: I am.

Mr. Huntington: How would you describe Riddle's current medical condition?

Healer Mittleton: He has diabetes that is controlled through potions and receives nutritive potions daily because of poor eating. He has high blood pressure, which is also controlled through potions. He has poor circulation in his legs and feet. That condition is improving with appropriate potions, but he refuses to exercise and that does not help.

I would describe his overall health as precarious. Azkaban's Mediwizards and I check Riddle at least four times a day and spell nutritional and medicinal potions directly into his stomach because of his lack of cooperation. Our findings are sent to Healer Smith on a daily basis. She consults with other Healers at St. Mungo's and advises me on his treatment.

He is kept in a cell where the air is dosed with Happy-Sleepy potion at regular intervals. We have reduced the initial amount he was being given to what we consider to be a maintenance dose. He is not intoxicated all the time, but he is lethargic.

According to reports from his guards, he has attempted to use magic and been unsuccessful. My own examinations show that he has magic, but it is low level magic. It is within his body, but he is unable to use it.

We have not made any attempt to take away the Happy-Sleepy potion to see if Riddle will go through withdrawal. I can't say for certain that he is addicted, but given the ingredients in Happy-Sleepy and the current dosage, it is consistent with what it takes to become addicted.

* * *

**Excerpt from Transcript:  
**July 8th, 1999  
Interrogation of Ellen Smith

Madam Wellingham: What is the prognosis for Tom Marvolo Riddle?

Healer Smith: For purposes of explaining Riddle's condition, I will refer to the shell created by the Blood, Flesh and Bone spell as Lord Voldemort. The misty form that is his inner core and his true self, I will refer to as Tom Riddle.

Lord Voldemort is in bad shape. After consulting with other Healers at St. Mungo's , I estimate that with maintaining the high level of medical care he currently receives and supervision of his nutrition, the shell might live for three to five years. When his shell dies, Tom Riddle will be able to escape. He will leave Azkaban and find another body to possess. It may take him a while to get back into a body able to use all the magic he is capable of. If that scenario takes place, we will be dealing with him all over again at some point in the future.

Madam Bones: Silence in the hearing room. I will have silence.

Madam Bones: One more shout from anyone in the press or in the visitors' tier and you will be expelled.

Madam Wellingham: Please continue, Healer Smith

Madam Bones: Before you continue, Healer Smith, I would like to address the members of the Wizengamot. It is the responsibility of this body to determine what should be done with Tom Marvolo Riddle in all of his forms. I have instructed the Wizengamot's prosecutors to prepare the case against him and be prepared to bring him to trial no later than August 1st.

In the meantime, I am authorizing the necessary resources within the Ministry to be provided to the team responsible for the incarceration and care of Tom Marvolo Riddle so that the necessary magical analyses be done to determine what he did to himself to create his apparently indestructible inner core. We need to fully understand this being, whatever he is, in order to determine what can be done about him in the long run.

* * *

Severus  
July 9th, 1999

"I am very glad you have decided to accept the appointment as Deputy Headmaster," says Minerva, pouring a cup of tea. "Even if it is only for a year or two before you take the job at Avalon College, it will help enormously with the transition."

I am very glad Minerva understands that I cannot make a permanent commitment to Hogwarts. Having given it a great deal of thought, I believe I would do far better teaching adults than I do children. Besides, the chance to develop my own advanced Dark Arts Potions identification and analysis curriculum is irresistible.

To say nothing of being in the same city and bed with Hermione.

"I appreciate your confidence in me," I reply. "Your personal credibility with the Wizengamot and other People of Influence will help establish that I am worthy of trust. That I am more than the Dark Lord's minion or Albus Dumbledore's puppet."

"I do not believe anyone thinks of you as Albus' puppet," she retorts. "After the Battle of Malfoy Manor, you have certainly proved that you are not a minion."

"It will always follow me," I answer. "There will always be some who will never believe that I have been loyal to the Order since the day I gave my oath to Albus."

"You will prove them wrong by being an upstanding citizen. As a part of it, I will require that you be nice to members of the Board of Governors," comments Minerva, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"As long as I do not catch them snogging behind the statue of Carlisle, The Fixated on the fourth floor or they do not try to mix armadillo bile into Tanner's Cleaning Potion while in my classroom, I can certainly be polite."

"Now, that I think of it," says Minerva, with a mischievous smile, "If you could placate Tom Riddle all those years, you should get along with the Governors just fine."

"Please tell me that they do not use Crucio as a management device," I reply, sighing dramatically.

"No," says Minerva, cheerily, "They just like to use a lot of big words and impress each other with how intellectual they are."

"Ahh," I reply, "braggarts."

"Loudly and regularly," nods Minerva. "Albus had that phrase done up as a cross stitch sampler and hung it in the meeting room. Madam Fleming misunderstood the intent and insisted that it belonged in the adjacent lavatory. It has been hanging there proudly ever since."

"Does the Deputy position come with the benefit of being allowed to use the Governors' lavatory?" I inquire.

"As long as you follow the rules on the sampler," says Minerva, her eyes twinkling in a suspiciously familiar manner. "Now, here is a copy of last year's budget. You'll see that year-to-date revenues and expenditures are outlined. Not all of the bills have been received for last year, which is why we will not have a financial statement until sometime in August.

* * *

"I am so angry with Albus Dumbledore that I could spit nails," declares Poppy, glaring at the pocket sized journal in her hand.

Minerva and I are sitting in the parlor at headquarters, making plans for the coming school year. We have six weeks to prepare and have just received Bill Weasley's resignation. We must see to replacing Rolanda and finding a new Transfiguration professor. Poppy has just arrived, along with her thundering temper.

"Would you like some tea?" offers Minerva.

I suspect that this is not the first time that Minerva and Poppy have held a conversation about the ways in which Albus has made one or both of them angry. The man has been dead for eleven days and is still managing to aggravate Poppy.

"I would like a large shot of Old Ogden's finest," says Poppy, plopping down into her seat with a huff.

"Dobby," I call.

In an instant, Dobby winks into the room.

"Would you bring Madam Pomfrey a glass of Old Ogden's from my bottle?" I request.

"It is 9 am, Professors," says Dobby, looking confused.

I look at Poppy expectantly.

"Oh, never mind," she grumbles. "I'll have tea."

"What has Albus done, now?" asks Minerva, gently.

"I found his appointment book," says Poppy, with a sniff. "It has a list of things that he needed to do."

"Are there things we need to take care of for him?" offers Minerva. "You know that Severus and I will be glad to help."

"Perhaps one of you could stop by the jewelers and find out if he had an appointment to look at wedding rings," spits out Poppy.

"Oh, dear me," says Minerva, sympathetically. "Do you think…?"

"Oh, yes," says Poppy, shaking her head angrily. "He was going to pull that one again."

"What?" I ask. Maybe I should not ask. Perhaps, I would be best served by staying out of this one.

"Marriage," says Poppy, disgusted. "We were a couple for over seventy-five years. Every once in a while when Albus wanted something that I wasn't in favor of, he'd imply that it was time to get married. It never went any further than that. He hadn't brought it up in the last twenty years or so. I thought he'd given up on that manipulation. Not that I ever fell for it the other times. Albus considered himself too Bohemian for marriage."

Poppy pages through the journal. She finds what she is looking for and lays the journal down so Minerva and I can look at it. I see an entry that reminds me of something I need to do.

"I must make contact with Professor Franks and Madam Long about coming to assess Riddle's magical condition so we can address the situation of the Dark Marks," I comment to myself.

"I see the listing for the jeweler," says Minerva. "Maybe he really meant it this time."

"Maybe he did," sighs Poppy. "He didn't like the concept of retirement and wanted me to retire with him and keep him company. I have my doubts that he suddenly developed an intense desire to be married."

"Were you considering retiring?" asks Minerva, looking troubled.

"Heavens, no," insists Poppy. "I have no plans to retire any time soon. I enjoy my work and love Hogwarts. I have all the children I have ever wanted to look after. I will admit that I find Albus' absence from my daily life painful, but that would be the case wherever I might go."

"I will not deny that I would miss you terribly, if you left," says Minerva.

"To say nothing of the fact that your years of experience at Hogwarts make you an excellent resource for advice and counsel on many issues," I state.

Poppy looks at me with surprise.

I suppose that my appointment as Deputy Headmaster has caused me to take a broader view.

"You have a gift for dealing with children that I certainly lack," I remark, snidely. "It takes many different kinds of personalities and skills to make the school run well. You are needed right where you are."

Poppy sniffles and takes out her handkerchief to dab her eyes.

"I do believe that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me," she says, blowing her nose. "Usually you are telling me that I coddle them too much. When you aren't telling me to keep my bloody hands to myself when I'm trying to treat you for something."

"I have never been a good patient," I remark, honestly. "It is my fervent personal hope that I will no longer be in need of regular repair work."

"I dearly hope not," says Poppy. "I'm looking forward to autumn and being busy with normal things. Having to go through Albus' possessions is emotionally exhausting."

"You do not have to do it all this summer," offers Minerva. "There is no rush. Please do not be concerned about Albus' things at the Headmaster's townhouse in London. I doubt that I will stay there as often as Albus did. His things can stay there for years and I shall not be at all put out."

"I appreciate your patience," says Poppy, looking relieved.

"I miss the old coot," says Minerva, sadly.

I can only nod in agreement.

"He was an old coot, wasn't he?" says Poppy. "He was always so full of himself. He loved to be the center of attention with his fancy robes and all that long hair and beard. He never used simple magic when something colorful and sparkly would do the job."

"He wanted to do good things, most of the time," said Minerva.

"He did," says Poppy, emphatically. "He just didn't know when to keep that long nose of his out of other people's business. Albus Dumbledore could make an impossible mess of things when he meddled."

"It was his favorite pastime," I murmur.

That sets the two ladies to laughing.

"He has probably given the angels plenty of advice on ways to organize heaven," teases Minerva.

"And told Saint Peter how to manage the line at the Pearly Gates," offers Poppy, with a broad smile.

"Right after he told Satan where to take himself," I add.

"I do feel better," says Poppy.

"We are available, anytime," says Minerva.

I see no point in disagreeing with her. As long as it does not regress to weeping and wailing on a regular basis, I will not begrudge a colleague an opportunity to reminisce about a man she loved for most of a century.

"I do appreciate that," says Poppy.

"You are just in time to talk about some of the changes that will be happening with the new term," says Minerva. "I have just received Bill's notice that he will be returning to work for Gringott's in a few weeks."

"I can't say that I'm surprised," says Poppy. "He took the position so that he could be closer to his family and help protect the children during the war. Does he want his exciting life back?"

"That may be a part of it," says Minerva. "However, he has been squiring Keiko Takahashi about since the battle and Gringott's has wanted to expand their holdings in the United States."

"Do you think that he will want to go to America instead of back to Egypt?" asks Poppy.

I believe that is enough gossip.

"Regardless of what Bill decides to do," I interrupt, "we need to make a decision about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

"You could do it," suggests Poppy.

"Of course, I could," I reply, accompanied by an eye roll. "I do not want to take on the responsibilities of Deputy Headmaster and change teaching positions at the same time. To say nothing of the fact that a Potions Master who wants to teach children is impossible to find. I would like to recommend that we approach Jean Lamb and ask her to return."

"She was an excellent teacher during that year she was with us," muses Minerva.

"She has expressed to me how much she enjoyed teaching and that she misses it," I add, encouragingly. "Now that the cursed contract for the position has been destroyed, I am confident that Jean would give serious consideration to accepting."

"As an added benefit, Mike would be living in the castle again," comments Poppy. "I'm confident he could give us a complete safety audit."

"Albus would turn over in his grave," says Poppy, cheerfully. "Let's do it."

"I will talk to Jean," says Minerva, sounding determined. "If she accepts, that still leaves us with the position of Flying Master, Transfiguration Professor, and Head of Gryffindor."

"You know as well as I do that Charity Burbage has coveted Head of House of Gryffindor for years," says Poppy.

"Enough that I have worried about whether or not I would be hexed in the back," quips Minerva. "She has the experience for the position. I shall talk to her about it."

"We should advertise the other positions," I suggest. "We should not make it appear that only people with connections to the Order or current teachers would be considered."

"Excellent suggestion," announces Minerva, making her own To Do list.

* * *

Her mood much improved, Poppy has opted to go to Diagon Alley and run errands. Minerva and I have continued working our way through preparations for the coming school year.

Having drafted advertisements for Hogwarts' open positions, my eyes drift back to the open journal and Albus' task list.

"I am concerned about item number 9 on the list," says Minerva, looking at the journal.

"Who is Simeon LaVigne?" I ask.

"A friend of Albus'," replies Minerva. "He was involved with the Grindelwald business."

"On which side?" I ask.

"I was never entirely clear on that," says Minerva. "He trod very carefully in those days. I suspect LaVigne would have gone to whichever side won. Fortunately, he seemed to believe that Grindelwald would not be able to escape Albus."

"Rumors?" I muse, returning to the item on the list. "Do you have any idea what those rumors might have been?"

"None," says Minerva, shaking her head. "I shall contact LaVigne and see if he knows what this is about."

"I shall take care of item number 1," I comment. "I will contact Professor Franks and Madam Long and arrange a meeting to see if they are willing to examine Riddle."

"Dear me," says Minerva, shaking her head. "That would involve a trip to Azkaban. Do you think that they would even consider such a thing?"

"I do not know," I reply. "We certainly cannot take him out of Azkaban and back to Chester's cellar."

"Perhaps Ellen could help with this?" suggests Minerva.

I consider our options.

"The Ministry has recognized that at this moment in time, Ellen Smith knows more about Voldemort's physiology and medical conditions than anyone else in the wizarding world. I shall talk to Ellen and find out how far her authority extends. Perhaps she could accompany me to a meeting with Professor Franks and Madam Long."

"You really do believe that these two could determine what Riddle did to himself to create that inner core that can flitter about and possess people?" asks Minerva, her forehead furrowed.

"I watched them conduct an analysis on the shell of Barty Crouch, Jr.," I state, grimacing as I remember the walking automaton and Moody's attempt to mistreat it. "Madam Long determined that the shell that remains when a victim is Kissed by a Dementor is similar to that of an Inferi. The magic placed on the remains when the soul is sucked out keeps it alive and able to respond to simple commands."

Minerva's hand is at her throat, clutching in dismay.

"Albus said that he had learned something about the Dementor's Kiss that made him even more determined to fight to keep them out of Azkaban."

"Unfortunately, the person amongst our number who had the most influence with the Wizengamot and the Ministry has departed for other shores," I comment.

"You are cynical with good reason," says Minerva, holding up her hand. "However, after her testimony before the Wizengamot, Ellen has real influence with Amelia, Scrimgeour, and the Healer at Azkaban. This is a time to use some of that influence. If you will send a message Patronus, we will meet up with Ellen at her earliest convenience.

I allow my head to drop until my forehead thuds lightly on the table.

"Severus," says Minerva, sternly. "Now, what?"

I tap my forehead to the table two more times and then raise it to look at Minerva. With a heavy sigh, I realize I must explain.

"Ellen will not recognize my Patronus," I comment, despairing.

Minerva looks surprised, confused, and then offers a look of understanding.

"You would hardly be the first person whose Patronus changed when they fell in love," she says, gently. "Has it turned into an otter?"

"No," I reply, barely suppressing a groan.

"A lioness?"

"No."

"Something with bushy hair?"

"Not exactly."

"I am not going to play Twenty Questions with you," declares Minerva, looking annoyed. "Spit it out."

"Cat," I mumble.

"A cat?" quizzes Minerva, looking as if the answer has dawned on her.

"It would not happen to look like a bandy legged ginger cat with a squashed face, would it?" she asks. "Rather like Crookshanks, perhaps?"

"Exactly like Crookshanks," I mutter, looking away. "I have researched and have not found a way to turn it back into the panther."

Minerva pats my hand. At least she is not patting my head.

"I know of no way to consciously change a Patronus," says Minerva. "It is often a reflection of one's inner state or shows a connection to another person or persons. I cannot tell you about how the men will react, but I can assure you that the women will consider it quite romantic.

"I can see why you would not want to reveal it prior to the Claiming ceremony," she adds, thoughtfully. "After that, you might take a little ribbing from a few people, but most will admire the level of commitment expressed by having a cat as your Patronus. After all, a cat is not far from a panther. It is still a predator.

"In fact, as I recall, Crookshanks is a very intelligent cat and realized that Pettigrew was not a real rat before anyone else did. I wish I had had a cat-to-cat talk with him before that whole business happened. We might have been able to capture Pettigrew before he returned to Voldemort.

"It would not surprise me in the least if your unconscious mind was responding to Hermione's obvious intelligence and adjusted your Patronus accordingly," she finishes with a flourish.

I feel very encouraged by that. It may not mean that my Patronus has turned into a sissy house cat after all. It has turned into an intelligent predator. A cunning hunter, a cold blooded killer of vermin and the protector of my intended. That would most certainly describe me. It is all in how one looks at it.

"If you could get Roger to teach you how to generate a giant Patronus like Hermione's and Draco's that can consume a Dementor," says Minerva, encouragingly, "you would be admired for it."

I feel much better, now.

"You may very well be right," I remark. "I was focusing on the change from the wrong perspective."

"I am glad that I was able to offer another point of view," says Minerva, patting my hand. "I shall take care of sending a message Patronus to Ellen. You may debut your new Patronus on another occasion. Speaking of other occasions…"

Minerva pauses to search through her handbag. She finds what she is looking for and places a box on the table.

"There was quite an age difference between Gaius and myself," says Minerva, softly. "He and I met during the Grindelwald War and thought that we had much in common. Given that he was forty-six years older than I, we decided that Claiming made a great deal of sense for us. It offered us a chance to get to know each other well before we made the commitment to marriage."

Minerva opens the box and I see two bracelets inside. She picks up the larger of the two.

"Gaius had these made for us," she explains, handing me the bracelet. "They are goblin-wrought gold and virtually impervious to any kind of damage or wear. They sparkle just as brightly as the day we placed them on each other's wrist."

I feel the cool smoothness of the golden links as they slide across my fingers. These are extraordinarily beautiful pieces of jewelry.

"They are exquisite," I comment, taking the ladies bracelet from the box and holding both to the light. "I can still feel the tingle of magic in them."

"They would have to cleansed so that the magic would be your own," says Minerva, her eyes bright with sentimental tears. "I want you and Hermione to have them for your ceremony. Gaius and I were not blessed with children and you are as dear to me as any of them could possibly have been. I want you to have them."

There is a tightness in my chest and I am overwhelmed at the thought of being held in such regard by Minerva. In truth, she is equally dear to me.

"I am honored by your gift," I reply, emotion creeping into my voice. "I know that Hermione will be more than pleased to wear your bracelet, as I would be to wear your husband's."

I reach over and take Minerva's hand. I draw it up and kiss it gently. I look up and see a few tears have escaped and are trickling down her cheeks.

"I hate to remove the magic from the bracelets," I say softly, reaching up and brushing some of the tears away with my thumb. "Your husband's magic is on them, along with your own."

"And my mother and father's magic," she sighs. "His mother and brother blessed them, too. They are all gone, now."

Minerva slumps a bit and then I see her stubbornness return and she straightens and squares her shoulders.

"I have other things of theirs with their magic still on them," says Minerva, her voice stronger. "The cleansing of Claiming bracelets and other such things is part of circle of life and the passing of one generation to the next.

"That is how it should be so that each generation can look for their own magic. They will still be imbued with the love that Gaius and I held for each other and our hope for the future. I would very much like you and Hermione to inherit that. Perhaps, one day, one of your children will use these bracelets. It makes me happy to think of it."

"If that day should come," I offer, my feelings overwhelming me once again, "You will be present as befits their grandmother."

"Am I allowed to spoil them?" she asks mischievously.

"No one is allowed to spoil them," I proclaim, in response.

"We shall see," says Minerva, smiling.

Good. She is back to smiling again.

* * *

Author's notes

We recently got hit with quite a lot of rain leftover from Hurricane Ike. As a result of a sump pump breakdown, my basement flooded and I have a lot of damage to deal with. My normal writing time has been reduced to zero for the moment. The next chapter of _Looking for Magic_ won't be posted for four weeks.

I started writing Looking for Magic before JKR decided to change Hermione's middle name from Jane to Jean. I am leaving her middle name as Jane, to be consistent with early chapters.

Thank you to all of my reviewers, especially those I did not have time to respond to after the water started pouring in: Arsinoe de Blassenville, Maddie50, LilyGranger, Mekareami, Seth7, Erytha, Kcole, BrieB, GloW91, T wrecks, Keitaya, KimJo, Kittykat91419, Walk.in.the.rain, Missblujuju, Snakegirl-sprockett, Atreyu Abraxes Black, 7differentdoors, Droxy, MamaJMarie, Brillant, Sylphides, She is brighter, Graynavarre, Duj, Snapeygirl, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Instar, Shadow, Latinachikita, o0morgana0o, Blue artemis, Lovethelab, Saavik13, Mrs.HermioneSeverusSnape, Allycat116, Kirien, HinataMorningstar, Karla Manatee, Severessa, Mennie, Oscarxena, Notwritten, Alison, Traceyww, Pickles87, Jade2099, Fatalani-Zabini, TXWitchywoman, MysticSong1978, Koliber, Darque Hart, Chaotizitaet, MoreThanSirius, Lonelygirl54, Lyndie578, Mother of Tears, Arime Setta, MollysSister, Rinny08, Excessivelyperky, Legilimens31, Murgy31, KellyRoxton, Lipasnape, Laurenke1, Keske, Dverducci, and Kayleigh.


	109. Chapter 109

If I owned this, I could just hire things done. I don't, so I haven't.

Thank you for you patience while I dealt with real life issues. We shall now return to our regular posting schedule of every other Friday.

Thank you to Julia for checking over this chapter. Did you know that Katyes has translated 98 chapters of Looking for Magic into German? Amazing people, aren't they?

* * *

July 9th, 1999  
Hermione

"I think that dress is too casual for dinner with the Malfoys," says Ginny from the bed.

"I agree," says Anita, who is sitting cross legged on the rag rug in front of the bureau. "You should wear the red one. It goes better with your coloring."

"You can't wear red," declares Ginny. "You have to wear pastels. It's traditional for an unmarried woman who is being considered for Claiming."

Anita and I are both staring at Ginny.

"Hey," says Ginny, shaking her head. "You're lucky that traditions have loosened up. Fifty or sixty years ago, you would have had to wear white or ivory all the time to represent your purity. At least you only have to dress in traditional ways for the more formal occasions, like having dinner at the future in-laws for the first time."

"Does that mean if I am impure, I have to wear black to declare it?" I reply, facetiously.

Ginny breaks into giggles. "No. I think you have to dress like Bellatrix Lestrange – bustier and all."

Anita is laughing.

I can only shake my head at them.

"I'm not meeting them for the first time," I sigh, pulling out the fourth of the seven dresses I own. "I met Lucius Malfoy when he attacked us at the Ministry of Magic. I think that should count as an introduction. I met Madam Malfoy when she was in St. Mungo's, though she was unconscious at the time. I punched Draco during third year when he was being a prat."

"None of those count," insists Ginny. "This is your first formal introduction to them and the circumstances are very different."

"Yeah," says Anita, "They changed sides in the war. By the way, Draco says that you pack quite a wallop."

"I did bloody his nose properly," I boast. "He deserved it at the time, but I've forgiven him since."

"He did deserve it," says Anita. "Draco told me that he called you nasty names and generally treated you like dirt whenever he could. I think part of it was jealousy that your marks were higher than his and it didn't fit in with all of the crap he'd been fed about pureblood superiority."

I look at Anita with surprise. I didn't think Draco would admit to that part of it.

"I hate to interrupt," says Ginny, "but we are going to run out of time and we still need to get your dress ready. You need something demure looking and suitable for a curtsey, if you're going to follow tradition."

"Is there a book somewhere that has all of these rules in it?" I ask, impatiently. When in doubt, read the book.

"There probably is, but I don't think we own it," says Ginny. "Just take my word for it or ask Mum."

I take the fifth dress out of my wardrobe. This one is dark blue silk with an empire waist and short puffed sleeves. The dress has a scoop neck and is gathered across the bodice. It looks like it has stepped right out of a Jane Austen novel.

"That would be perfect," says Ginny. "We just need to make it a lighter color."

"Is a sky blue light enough?" I ask, preparing to adjust the color with a little wand waving.

"Try it and see," suggests Anita.

Several adjustments later, the dress is light blue with a hint of gray to it, a light slate blue. We tried different shades ranging from azure to powder blue. Some were declared to be too girlish. Others were too bright. This one seems more dignified.

I do a turn around and Ginny adjusts the hem.

"I can't believe we're helping you get ready to go on a date with Professor Snape," mutters Ginny.

"You really are dating one of your teachers from boarding school," comments Anita, wryly. "That is so naughty."

"Believe me," I retort. "There was nothing naughty about my relationship with Professor Snape when I was a student at Hogwarts. He treated me just like any of the other annoyances. Though, I did rather like his voice and hands…"

"Having only ever seen him while he was giving testimony before the Wizengamot," says Anita. "I'll admit that he's got a really sexy voice. On the other hand, he looks intimidating and very serious. He was a Death Eater and a spy. That's seriously scary stuff."

"He can be scary, especially when he is playing the Voldemort's minion role that he was in for so much of the time when we were still at Hogwarts," I explain, wishing I didn't have to. "He had to really be a Death Eater in order to make the spying work. I'm just glad that as Voldemort's Potions Master, he wasn't expected to participate in the really nasty stuff that the Death Eaters did."

I realize that I am probably saying more to my friends about Severus than he would want. To tell them that I think that Severus feels really guilty about his time as a Death Eater is something I shouldn't do. He's too private to be comfortable with this.

To say nothing of the fact that I'm not sure I want to know the things Severus has had to do as a Death Eater.

Anita gives me a downright wicked look.

"So how's the sex?" she asks, anticipating some juicy answers.

I let myself look shocked, though I'm surprised neither of them has asked before.

"Spill, Hermione," says Ginny, grinning. "You two made the Virgo Curato, so I know that you've done it."

"I'm not about to kiss and tell," I reply, in a decidedly morally superior tone.

"Okay," says Ginny, evilly. "Skip the kissing part and get straight to the good stuff."

"I'm not saying anything about that, either," I insist. "It isn't at all appropriate."

Anita is eyeing me closely. She knows damn well that I have never pumped her for details of what she and Draco do together. The same applies to Ginny and Harry, though Ginny has blurted out a few interesting things, like where Harry has moles, is particularly ticklish, and that he has dimples on his rear end.

"When everything has settled down and we're back in Chicago," says Anita, who is clearly planning something, "You and Harry will have to come for a visit. We'll get Hermione drunk and get her talking. She tells a lot more than she realizes when she's been drinking."

"Oh, right," I retort. "I talked so much that first time, you and Draco were convinced that I had the hots for Bill Weasley."

"You already had the hots for Professor Snape in December?" asks Anita, her eyes wide. "See, Ginny, she hasn't been drinking and we're already worming bits and pieces out of her."

That has them both rolling and laughing.

Hmph.

"Okay," says Ginny. "You won't tell us the really good details. Tell us about the romance and how the two of you got together in the first place."

"We made the Solvo Ira together," I say with a sigh. That was so romantic. It was our first conversation where we talked about personal things.

Ginny bursts into laughter.

"It so totally figures that you would fall in love over a potion," says Anita.

I suppose it is okay to talk about this part. I won't say anything that would embarrass Severus.

"We did, but I think it was developing the cold immersion treatment for Cruciatus that really did it. We talked a lot and really got to know each other."

* * *

"He has an absolutely wicked sense of humor. Severus and I tease back and forth all the time."

"Severus," says Ginny dramatically, checking the length of the skirt one more time to see where it falls to the back of my shoes. "You call him Severus."

"Of course," I laugh. "Did you think we wouldn't be on a first name basis?"

"I wondered," says Ginny with a smirk. "What's amazing is that half the Order and Harry knew about it and I didn't suspect a thing."

I look down at Ginny with all seriousness.

"I couldn't tell you," I explain. "It would have made things difficult for both of you. Besides, I don't think we so much told people as they figured out something was going on."

"Do you think that they approved or disapproved?" asks Anita.

"I think they were very glad that I wasn't at Hogwarts when it happened," I respond, laughing.

"Did Ron know?" asks Ginny, biting her lip.

"He didn't for a long time," I reply. "When he found out, he didn't approve. He thought that I was going through a phase and that Severus would dump me."

Ginny and I look at each other and the sorrow comes back all over again.

"After he broke up with Lavender," says Ginny, sniffling, "I think he wanted to get back together with you."

"He just wanted uncomplicated company on dates," I reply. I know Ron well enough to be certain of this. "Ron and I didn't love each other, even back at Hogwarts. It was a crush that didn't last and we both knew it. When he told me in our paired journals that he'd broken up with Lavender, he asked to try again. After a few entries back and forth, he admitted that I would have been an understanding friend to go out with until he found someone new."

"That wasn't very fair of him," snaps Ginny.

"He figured that out," I reply. "He thought that Adam and I had decided not to date any more and that I might be available in between relationships. He didn't know that the real reason I stopped dating Adam was because I had realized I was way too attracted to Professor Snape."

"You were attracted to Professor Snape in November!" exclaims Anita. "I knew there was more to that than my dumb brother blowing another relationship."

"He's not dumb and he didn't really blow it," I explain, hoping to soothe things over. "I had to honest with myself and admit that I wanted someone else."

"Your former professor," muses Anita. "You know that he is a lot older than you."

"Only twenty years," I reply. It is actually twenty-one years until I reach my twentieth birthday in September, but I see no point to telling them that.

"The age difference really isn't that big a deal among purebloods," says Ginny. "Professor McGonagall was married to someone who was fifty years older than she was."

"That would be pretty weird in America," comments Anita. "But our wizarding society isn't very separate from the Muggle world."

"It would be weird in the Muggle world just about everywhere," I state. "Twenty years isn't so unusual in the Muggle world. My father was fourteen years older than my mother."

"No," says Ginny, "the weird part is that we all used to despise Professor Snape. Now, we find out that at least some of the way he behaved was an act to convince Voldemort that he believed all of that pureblood superiority crap and that he was a loyal Death Eater. What I really want to know is if he's going to turn nice next year, when we're all done at Hogwarts. If he does, it's just not right that we missed it."

"I wouldn't worry about that," I reply, rummaging through my mother's jewelry looking for her pearls. "He's still got plenty of attitude left. He's just really strict, Anita."

"I think Potions teachers are pretty strict in general," says Anita. "I had two different Potions teachers at St. Bridget's Academy and both of them were that way. After all, if you're careless with brewing, you could poison someone or blow up the lab."

"This is really hard to wrap my head around, Hermione," says Ginny, flopping back on the bed. "This is Snape who is courting you. Sneering, glaring, billowing Professor Snape. Claiming implies an interest in marriage. You've actually slept with him. It doesn't seem real."

"Maybe it will seem more real when he calls for me," I reply, smirking. It will be the very first time that Severus has ever done that. We've been together, but it has always been meeting in the lab at headquarters. It's never been a regular date.

"Maybe that's why Claiming is such a good idea," I muse. "I can't see Severus doing the casual dating thing. This gives us a framework for it so we'll know how to behave in public. It's official, so people will know that we take it seriously. We can actually date and do things that normal people do."

"That will be fun," says Anita. "Draco is already planning for the four of us to go to a movie the next time the professor comes to Chicago."

"With explosions?" I reply, shaking my head in amazement.

"What about explosions?" asks Ginny, eagerly.

"There are lots of movies that have huge explosions in them," Anita explains. "Draco promised Professor Dumbledore that he'd take him to one."

"Oh," says Ginny, pensively. "I guess he'll miss that one. I've heard about movies, but I've never seen one. Maybe Harry and I could go, too."

Severus would have a brain hemorrhage at the thought of going on a date with two other couples who just happen to include Draco and Harry.

* * *

"You stayed with the Malfoys for over a week," I comment to Anita. "What was that like?"

"Draco was the only family member home, at first," says Anita. "Laketha and Keiko were there, too. So it was us and the service-elves. It was pretty nice, except that Draco and I had to stay in separate bedrooms and there was no sneaking. Between the portraits and the service elves, plus Keiko, we'd have been busted for sure. I know that my folks know, but I don't know what Draco's parents know or how they'd react.

"When Mr. Malfoy brought Madam Malfoy home, Mediwitch Pomfrey came with them. Things were really tense and they warded the house to fry anybody who tried to get in uninvited."

"There was some sort of death threat against Madam Malfoy, wasn't there?" asks Ginny.

"More like an attempted murder," I reply. "Someone tampered with a nutritional potion she was being given. With the condition she was in, it would have probably killed her."

"Wow," says Ginny. "That part wasn't in The Daily Prophet."

"St. Mungo's wanted to keep it quiet so it wouldn't alarm the families of the other patients," explains Anita. "Once Madam Malfoy and Professor Snape were out of the hospital, they felt that the threat would be gone."

"Have the Aurors figured out who did it?" asks Ginny.

"No," says Anita. "The delivery person's memory had been tampered with. They figured that someone intercepted him and the delivery before he arrived at St. Mungo's. They haven't been able to find any clues as to who did it."

Ginny and I are staring at her.

"Keiko and Laketha grilled Draco about it," says Anita, with a wink. That's how I know."

"The best bet is that it was one of those unidentified Death Eaters, looking for revenge," I remark.

"That makes sense," offers Ginny. "Meanwhile, back to what the Malfoys are like…"

"Madam Malfoy is very nice," says Anita. "A few days after she woke up, she invited me to sit and talk. She likes gardening, pays attention to politics, and reads romance novels. Really trashy romance novels. She loaned me a few. She even has some that have magical illustrations that work like photographs. Those aren't quite porn, but they are plenty hot."

"Who would have thought it?" says Ginny. "She always seemed so formal and snobbish the few times I saw her in Diagon Alley or at Hogwarts."

"I think she's shy and tries to cover it up that way," says Anita. "Oh, and she plays piano really well. She was feeling pretty good by the time my parents arrived and I had to leave to go stay with them at the hotel. She played for almost an hour one evening. She is really talented and I'll bet she could do concerts.

"She seems to be caught up in the lady of the manor type of lifestyle. She probably never considered ever having a job. She's good at talking to people and putting them at ease. I think that she'd be great at public relations or even sales."

"Is that so?" I comment, wonderingly. "It's a shame that so many wizarding families have such a narrow view of what women should or shouldn't do. It's like the eighteen hundreds."

"Madam Malfoy and I talked about my plans to get into the business world and she was very supportive of the idea," Anita replies. "I think she is more modern in her thinking than a lot of the women in her position."

"Good," I declare, "because the world is changing and I hope the Malfoys will change, too."

"What about Lucius Malfoy?" asks Ginny.

"He's all formal and mannerly," says Anita. "I didn't really see much of him, except at meals. He talked about politics and business and asked a lot of questions about how things work in the U.S."

"I think Lucius Malfoy is an opportunist," I speculate. "Power and money are very important to him and he would be looking for ways to re-establish both in a post-Voldemort society."

"You could be right," muses Anita. "I don't feel like I know him at all, except whatever image he wants to project at a given moment. I wonder what my parents will think of him? I'll see what I can worm out of Mom and Dad after tonight."

Anita twists a lock of her hair around her finger and looks at me.

"I know that your professor was a Death Eater, but he was playing a role for a long time. Draco's dad is different. He really was a Death Eater and according to his testimony, he still believes a lot of that nonsense about pureblood superiority and all that. He was one of the Death Eaters that attacked you and Potter at the Ministry of Magic. He's a terrorist who killed people. From the way the hearings went, it doesn't sound like he's ever going to be prosecuted for the things he did. It spooks me to think that he's Draco's dad.

"I lived in his house in London for a week and he treated me nicely. By his standards, I'd be considered a mutt. My grandparents on my mother's side were Muggles. From the way Draco talks about him, I think that they're close. He really seems to love his wife.

"I don't know what to think about him."

"Me neither," I reply. "Severus thinks of him as a brother. They plotted and planned together to help bring down Voldemort. I believed that firmly enough that I handed him a Happy-Sleepy orb on the battlefield."

"I'm not about to forget that he put Tom Riddle's journal in with my school books," says Ginny, edgily. "That journal had to be one of Voldemort's early experiments to make himself immortal, because it somehow had a piece of his personality inside. The damn thing took advantage of me being a naïve eleven year old and possessed me during my first year. I did all kinds of things that I don't remember, including opening the Chamber of Secrets and letting a basilisk loose in the school."

Anita is looking at Ginny as if she has a Dementor standing behind her.

"I take back every complaint I ever made about St. Bridget's Academy being boring compared to Hogwarts," she says, astonished. "You had a _basilisk_ running around your school? You had Lord Voldemort in your _head_?"

"None of it was Ginny's fault," I insist.

"Of course it wasn't," says Anita, emphatically. "You were a kid. Where in the world did you get a basilisk?"

"I didn't get a basilisk," says Ginny. "It was left in a secret chamber beneath Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin. Voldemort used me to say things in Parseltongue to open up the chamber and let it out so it could attack students."

"Jumping Jesus H. Christ," says Anita, shaking her head. "How was it alive after a thousand years?"

"Why would Jesus jump?" asks Ginny, confused. "I didn't know he had a middle name."

"It's just a saying," says Anita. "Like _holy cow_."

"I don't get that one, either," says Ginny.

I am about to launch into an explanation when Ginny gives me a look that means _don't start_.

"I think it ate rats and anything or anyone else that found their way into the Chamber," says Ginny. "The point is that it ruined my first year at Hogwarts and I had to see a Mind Healer for months afterwards. Dumbledore would bring me to his office and we would talk it about at least a couple of times a year. I have to admit that having someone to talk to who understood really helped. It's also one of the reasons why Harry and I understand each other so well. We've both had Voldemort in our heads."

"Wow," says Anita.

"That's why I find it pretty hard to trust someone who has done the things that Lucius Malfoy has," says Ginny. "He turned on Voldemort, but from what I read in the Daily Prophet, it was because Voldemort was threatening to hurt Draco and Madam Malfoy. How can you trust that he won't change sides again? I mean Professor Snape worked really hard for years and sacrificed a lot to take down Voldemort. I get the sense that he means it, that he really is on our side. It's harder to believe with Lucius Malfoy."

"I guess we have to wait and see," says Anita. "It sounds like the British wizarding world is going to be in upheaval for a while. We'll have to see where he goes and what he does. Actions will speak a lot louder than words. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to the hotel and change clothes," says Anita, getting up and brushing off her slacks. "I think I'm going to need to add quite a bit of length to my dress, if I'm going to be suitable. It looks like it is going to be regency maiden night at the Malfoy's."

"It isn't fair," declares Ginny, sounding rather sulky. "You actually get to see Hermione on a date with Professor Snape. I only get to wait until it's all over and pump her for details later."

"True," says Anita, "but you get to be here and see the negotiation of the Claiming contract on Sunday. I'll be back in Chicago."

"I won't get to see the negotiations," I protest. "Molly says it isn't allowed. I get to greet the Malfoys and then get sent off to my room. Severus is forty years old and he isn't allowed to be present for the negotiations."

"How do you keep them from doing stupid things, then?" asks Anita. "What if they decide that you two have to be chaperoned all the time or that you have to wear a chastity belt?"

"I've already talked to Molly about it and she knows what's all right with me," I reply. "I'm sure Severus will do the same with the Malfoys. Besides, Severus and I have to agree to sign the contract for it to be valid. We won't sign it if there is anything there that we don't agree to. Besides, magical chastity belts are illegal."

"No they aren't," says Ginny. "If a person gives consent to wearing one, they are perfectly legal."

Anita and I stare at Ginny. She looks startled and then starts to laugh until she snorts.

"_Of course_, I've never worn one," she manages to get out in between surprisingly hog-like snorts. "It might be fun to give Harry the challenge of figuring out how to remove it."

I hold up my hand. "Stop right there," I announce. "I can see exactly where this is going and we won't get my outfit finished if we wallow in smutty discussions about Ginny's chastity belt."

Which has all of us howling with laughter.

"We may not be allowed to be in the room when the negotiations are going on," says Ginny. "That doesn't mean we won't know what they discuss. There are monitoring mirrors in the kitchen and the parlor and we can watch from the mirror in my bedroom."

"Where did you hide them?" I ask. "Won't they see them?"

"I didn't hide them, the twins did," says Ginny. "The one in the parlor is part of the stained glass sun catcher in the big window. It's been there since the twins messed with it. That one gets a really good view of the room and picks up the sound pretty well, as long as the window isn't rattling in the wind. The one in the kitchen is attached to the beam over the sink and gets a limited view, mostly of the kitchen table. If Mum washes up, it gets steamed and you can't see anything. The sound still works, though."

"Are there other parts of the house that the twins decided to spy on?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Dad's shed where he keeps his Muggle stuff collection," says Ginny. "That's the only other place they told me about when they gave me the mirror before they moved out."

"A mirror like that could come in handy," says Anita, picking up her things. "Knowing Dad, the house is probably warded against spying mirrors and I'd set off a dozen different alarms. Laketha would have me in a choke hold before I finished installing any of them."

"Do you think your parents know that the mirrors are there?" I ask Ginny.

"Maybe," says Ginny. "Maybe that's why they have their really serious conversations in their bedroom."

"There are lots more things that go on in parents' bedrooms than just serious conversations," says Anita, sagely. "Surely your brothers wouldn't have put a spy mirror in there?"

"The twins may have more guts than brains, sometimes," says Ginny. "Not even they are that stupid."

* * *

Severus and I arrive by Apparation into the transportation room at the Malfoy's London home. According to Severus, the security at the Malfoy residence is so tight; a cricket couldn't get through without losing at least two legs and its intestinal tract.

Our formal cloaks are taken by a house-elf and Severus offers me his arm to escort me into the parlor. I am excited and nervous. It is wonderful to be able to go to a social event with Severus as my official escort – calling him my date doesn't seem entirely appropriate for my dour Potions Master. It is nerve wracking that the evening is with the Malfoys. I am actually grateful that formal wizarding introductions involve bows and curtseys, because I think my hands are sweaty.

Apparating directly to a transportation room means that I have not seen the exterior of the Malfoy's London townhouse. The Order's townhouse is an old terraced home, much like Grimmauld Place, but renovated into a fashionable Muggle home.

Severus says that this row of terraced houses is exclusively wizarding residences. They are all owned by wealthy purebloods and have been in their families for generations. I wonder if any of them are Death Eaters or sympathizers. It must have made security arrangements very interesting.

I can only describe this parlor as lush and cluttered. The sofas and chairs look like museum quality antiques. The mahogany pieces are intricately carved and upholstered in brocaded fabrics. There are marble topped tables placed beside the chairs and sofas. Lamps rimmed with dangling crystals are made to look like oil lamps, but shine with a glittering magical light. Heavy burgundy velvet curtains hang at the windows, held back by enormous tassels. The wallpaper has a gold fleur des lis pattern on a shade of burgundy that matches the curtains.

I probably shouldn't say that it looks like it was decorated by Godric Gryffindor's wife on a drunken spree. Afterall, I am surrounded by Slytherins here.

The focus of the room is on the grand piano in front of the window. It is an enormous piece of mahogany furniture, with elegantly carved tulip legs and a heart shaped lyre to hold the music. Now, that is a magnificent piano. It must be Madam Malfoy's pride and joy.

The overdone room is a contrast to its occupants.

Lucius Malfoy draws my eyes first. He is wearing tailored dark gray silk robes. His white blonde hair and supercilious expression declare that he is above it all. Except that his gray blue eyes are piercing in their intensity. It reminds me of the Ministry. I looked in his eyes and saw death there.

I will myself not to be afraid of him. I won't think about what he did to Ginny.

Narcissa Malfoy moves gracefully to her husband's side and takes his arm. She is wearing sapphire blue, a dress very similar to mine. Mr. Malfoy's eyes turn to her for a moment. It is a softer look.

I shouldn't be afraid of him. We fought against Voldemort together. He's one of the Order's allies.

He's made no secret that he still thinks that Muggleborns are inherently inferior to purebloods. He can't be happy that Severus is proposing to claim me and that I am here sitting in his living room. At least with Severus and Draco here, he isn't going to do anything to me.

I am afraid of him.

Madam Malfoy looks at me and smiles. I think the smile is genuine. She has blue eyes with tiny lines at the corner.

Draco is wearing those gray robes that look so good on him. He looks formal, but the look in his gray eyes is welcoming. A little bit of the tension that has had my stomach in knots loosens. I have a friend, here.

Severus gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before he releases it.

"If I may," says Severus, formally, "I would like to introduce my guest. This is Miss Hermione Granger of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione, I would like you to meet my cousin Mr. Lucius Malfoy and Madam Narcissa Malfoy, his wife. Of course, you already know Draco."

As the younger woman, I dip into a curtsey first, followed by Madam Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy and Draco offer formal bows.

Before anyone can say anything else, Madam Malfoy steps forward and takes my arm as if we were old friends.

"I cannot begin to tell you how delighted I am that you could come, tonight," she says, brightly. "I realize that tradition says that we should not be on a first name basis until after the Claiming ceremony, but I hope that you will call me Narcissa and that I may address you as Hermione."

Madam Malfoy has escorted me over to one of the beautiful, but probably very uncomfortable sofas.

"I would be honored if you would call me Hermione," I reply, a little unsure of myself.

Both of us sit down. I was right. This Victorian settee is uncomfortable.

"These are new times," says Narcissa, determinedly. "For the first time in many years, we are out from under the dark cloud that has brought us all such misery. I, for one, intend to embrace it and all of the changes that will come with it."

She has an interesting way of referring to the Dark Lord.

"You are most certainly feeling better," says Severus, taking the armchair next to my side of the sofa. Mr. Malfoy takes the chair next to his wife's side of the sofa.

"I am, indeed," replies Narcissa. "I felt well enough that I have scheduled a meeting of my book club for next Wednesday. It will feel very good to begin to get out and about again."

"With security," comments Mr. Malfoy, looking about rather suspiciously as if he expects enemies to come out from under the settee.

"My first trip outside of the house will be to call on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on Sunday," says Narcissa. "I plan to take it slowly and not overtax myself. I do hope to be sufficiently well in a few weeks to take Samantha to Madam Malkins to be fitted for her school robes. She will need new ones for Hogwarts this autumn."

"I take it Samantha Pucey has agreed to return to England?" asks Severus.

"She has agreed to come and visit our family for a week," replies Lucius. "She has the choice of returning to the Canadian family that has been caring for her, if she decides that it is a more computable arrangement."

"I'll be going to Winnipeg to get her next weekend," offers Draco. "She remembers me from Hogwarts, even though she was a third year when Hermione and I finished."

"We intend to make her feel welcomed," states Narcissa. "She has had a terrible year between being forced into hiding for her safety, her family rejecting her, and now losing her brother."

"Is her family aware of her status?" asks Severus.

"They are," replies Lucius. "When they discovered that Adrian and Samantha had gone into hiding, Gilbert and Leticia officially disowned them. My solicitor has notified the Ministry that we intend to seek legal guardianship over Samantha. She believes that the Department of Children and Family Services will complete the paperwork this week to give us legal custody of Samantha, pending the guardianship hearing. That will prevent the Puceys from attempting to seize her."

"That is why we are waiting until next weekend to bring Samantha back to England," explains Narcissa. "We want to make certain we have legal custody first."

"I would certainly think that the Department of Children and Family Services would never consider giving the girl back to her parents, given that they were willing to hand her over to Dark Lord for the purposes he had in mind," sneers Mr. Malfoy.

I shudder inside to even think of it. According to Severus, the Puceys were saving their daughter to be used as a sacrifice of some sort in a Dark ritual.

"Edmund Rutherford is certainly burning in whatever circle of hell is allocated for fathers who do such things to their children," comments Narcissa, darkly.

"Speaking of Rutherford," says Severus, "I must commend you for the effectiveness of your rose garden. We saw Rutherford and Dolohov briefly when we were approaching the solarium. They appeared to be quite dead."

"Having a rose bush seize you and start growing up your rectum will do that to you," comments Draco, with a totally evil smile.

"Please, Draco" sighs Narcissa. "You'll have Hermione thinking that we are barbarians."

"Not at all," I comment. "I've heard about what your rose garden did in defense of the Manor. It performed a public service."

"Our garden attacked enemies of our family," says Draco, definitively. "It did exactly what it was designed to do."

"They are lucky that they did not try to pick any of the gardenias," offers Narcissa, wickedly.

* * *

We are an odd looking group. The Malfoys look like they stepped out of a wizarding magazine with their white blonde hair and traditional robes. Severus looks like his usual eccentric self, dressed in his high necked frock coat with lines of buttons at the sleeves and at the ankles of his trousers. I look like a refugee from a Regency novel in my long empire waist dress.

Then, we have the Schulers. Mr. Schuler wears an American business suit. It could have come off the rack at almost any high end men's clothing store in the United States. Mrs. Schuler looks splendid in a designer sheath with a bolero jacket. Anita decided to wear a long dress similar to mine, only in a shade of aubergine that goes beautifully with her dark hair and pale skin.

So far, we have made it through dinner without any major faux pas. Everyone seems to know which silverware to use with which course. No one has brought up any regrettably uncomfortable topics. The discussion has focused on the contrasts between British and American architecture.

"When you stand on the sky deck on the 103rd floor of the Sears Tower," says Draco, "you can see across Lake Michigan and see the states of Michigan and Indiana. If you look north, you can see Wisconsin. It's much higher than it would be safe for most flyers to go on a broom."

"I have never been in a skyscraper," says Narcissa. "I have certainly never been that high on a broom. Are your skyscrapers that tall?" she asks, turning to Mrs. Schuler.

"No," says Mrs. Schuler. "My tallest building is forty-five stories. I have to leave out a lot of magical features, because they are used by Muggles as well as wizards. For example, we don't have a floo network in the United States."

"It must be inconvenient having to Apparate or Portkey all of the time," comments Narcissa.

"It's all in what you're accustomed to," says Daniel. "In order to blend into the local society, we drive most of the places we need to go. It works better for maintaining our cover."

"It must feel… limiting," Mr. Malfoy remarks, with just a hint of a sneer.

"In some ways it is," replies Mr. Schuler, ignoring the almost sneer. "But, I enjoy driving and find that it works well for most things. I will confess that while I prefer the time I can save by Portkeying when I come to Europe, but I don't like what it does to my stomach. I often choose to travel by airplane, if I have the time."

"I believe I would like to go up in a skyscraper and ride in a motorcar," declares Narcissa.

"I'll be more than happy to take you, Mother," says Draco. "When you come to Chicago at the end of summer, I'll take you for a car ride in the country and we can visit as many skyscrapers as you like."

"I will look forward to it," says Narcissa, beaming. "What do you think, Lucius?"

"The skyscrapers sound interesting, if only for their engineering," says Mr. Malfoy. "I look forward to seeing how Margaret has managed to design and build such enormous structures. I am less eager to climb into a conveyance that is operated by explosions without any form of magical control. I am amazed that Muggles are not constantly killing themselves in those moving metal traps."

"The people who die in cars usually die in an accident by striking another car," says Draco. "The cars don't explode because of the combustion engine."

"Are you certain that it is safe for you to be driving one of those things?" asks Narcissa, alarmed.

"I took the training and I am a licensed operator," boasts Draco. "Accidents happen, but most are minor. Besides, I have a seeker's reflexes."

"I am planning to take driver's training when I return to Chicago," I add. "It really is part of every day life in the United States, even for wizards."

"The world is changing," says Mr. Malfoy. "We shall have to see what benefit it brings."

* * *

Severus

Hermione is uncomfortable around Lucius.

By the end of our meal, whenever Lucius looked in our general direction, Hermione gave the floral centerpiece her undivided attention.

It did not help that Lucius was looking at her as if she was an insect underneath a magnifying glass. I realize that Lucius has not changed his attitude about Muggleborns, but he will have to learn to make Hermione an exception or he will not retain my friendship.

I was concerned that Hermione might feel unwelcome here. In deference to the American guests, Narcissa had planned to dispense with the tradition of dividing up the guests by sex and each group going their separate ways for a portion of the evening. I am grateful that Narcissa sensed what was happening and changed her plans to give Hermione a respite away from Lucius. I do not know how much longer Hermione would have been able to tolerate Lucius' scrutiny without having her discomfort lead to either complete withdrawal or an angry outburst.

I daresay Lucius will be hearing from Narcissa on this matter, too.

I will not tolerate this from Lucius. If not for Hermione's idea that led us to the Happy-Sleepy potion, Lucius would have performed his stud service weeks ago and would now be hostage to the Dark Lord's whims for the rest of his life. If this were not a social situation with outsiders present, Lucius would know my feelings on this matter immediately.

Instead, I am quietly fuming and sipping fine brandy as I listen to Daniel, Lucius, and Draco discussing business and politics.

"The president of the American and Canadian Wizarding Federation is attentive to business concerns," says Daniel. "She knows that the social programs she wants are best paid through the taxes of successful businesses and their employees."

"What sort of social programs?" asks Lucius, sounding genuinely curious.

"Care for the elderly and infirm," offers Daniel. "Job training for those who need it. Health care for all. Working with Muggle government to care for the environment."

"From what I've read," says Draco, "those are the kinds of things that got her elected."

"Yes," says Daniel. "She's well known for her social conscience and is popular for it among American wizards. Those of us who have business concerns let government worry about such things while we concentrate on economic growth.

"Which is always to the benefit of everyone involved," he adds, meaningfully. "Especially since Britain has the potential to be a prime consumer of goods."

"The market for Digital Magic computers is wide open,' comments Draco. "The biggest issue in working your way into British markets is that so many wizarding families live completely without electricity. That's totally different than in the United States."

"Which is why we will start by marketing to the wizarding families who have one foot in the Muggle world," says Daniel. "Did you know that they are more likely to read Witch Weekly than the Daily Prophet?"

"How do you know that?" asks Lucius, surprised.

"Market research," Daniel replies. "The marketing department of Digital Magic did research into the circulation of the Britain's wizarding publications. They compared their subscriber lists to Who's Who Among Wizards and The Genealogy Annual. They sorted out probable Muggleborns and mixed blood families and looked at what they read. We'll advertise in those magazines first."

"If access to Muggle technology offers those families an advantage in business," suggests Draco, "the pureblood families will have to consider it."

"Or destroy it," Lucius remarks, supercilious.

"Those days are over," I remark, quite intrusively while struggling to hide my anger. "The Dark Lord is sitting in Azkaban, waiting for his next hit of Happy-Sleepy. With the exception of the two of us sitting here, the Death Eaters involved in the battle are in Ministry holding cells, awaiting trials. Their families are terrified that their estates will be confiscated to make reparations to families injured by the Death Eaters.

"Lucius," I add, meaningfully, "Would it not be most fitting if Miss Granger were awarded that rotting heap known as Lestrange Park as recompense for her parents? The land has real value, even if the buildings should be torn down. Or the Nott's country estate? That home is in excellent condition. It would certainly send a message that those days are over."

"You are in a better position to estimate the value of Miss Granger's parents than I," replies Lucius, dismissively. "It will be up to the Wizengamot to determine the appropriate punishments for our former cohorts and whether or not reparations are due. The point I am making is that the Death Eater sympathizers are still a power to contend with. There are followers that the Dark Lord did not Mark and who were not present during the battle. The Ministry will be examining its own ranks for the next few years, trying to determine who did or did not aid Lord Voldemort.

"At any given time, there were probably no more than one hundred Marked followers of the Dark Lord. We managed to wreak havoc on the nine thousand witches and wizards of Britain. I am simply saying that it should not be assumed that the most conservative elements of our society will accept Muggle integration easily. If we could disrupt society with one hundred of us, someone else could do the same."

"Any terrorist group could accomplish that, including Muggles with the right weapons" says Daniel, watching Lucius. "It doesn't mean that we should delay our efforts. We have something that will help wizarding Britain. I think your son could identify dozens of uses for computers, especially one designed to access information only available to wizards."

"It could even start with small electronics," suggests Draco. "I know that Severus has had access to one of Adam's calculators."

"A very useful tool," I remark, still seething inside about Lucius' attitude. "Did your son show you the one that I brought to Hogwarts?"

Daniel laughs.

"He certainly did," says Daniel. "A little chunk of melted plastic and circuit board. The magic certainly turned it into a puddle of goo, didn't it? We certainly won't be marketing our products to Hogwarts, yet." He looks at Lucius with a poker face. "We would probably start small, with various kinds of music playing devices as a start. Those usually catch on quickly, even in environments without electricity. They are operated by batteries."

"I can see advantages to starting with music," says Lucius, thoughtfully. "It is innocuous enough and has great appeal to youth. Young people are more adaptable and open to new ideas. If the items are priced so that they can afford to purchase them out of their pocket money, they would not need their parent's approval of the device to obtain one."

"There is a challenge to starting with a product that is targeted at teenagers," I remark. "In Britain, most are boarded at Hogwarts ten months of the year and would not be able to use the CD players at Hogwarts without ending up with a chunk of melted plastic."

"Good point," says Daniel. "Until we can come up with technology that works inside the magical schools, we aren't going to get far with the teen population."

"I didn't know that you knew about CD players," says Draco, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I am capable of moving about the Muggle world with some facility," I reply. I certainly shall not admit that while I have been living at Headquarters, I regularly listen to the one Hermione gave me for my birthday. "I attended Oxford and took classes in chemistry while I was completing my apprenticeship. Since then, I have stayed in touch with Muggle progress through the journals I subscribe to and occasionally forays into Muggle society.

"If you are looking for a way to market music," I continue, "I suggest that your people contact Weasley Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. Young people frequent the store and the twins are excellent at promoting new products."

"On top of that, they're considered war heroes," adds Draco.

"I'll recommend that to my marketing staff," says Daniel. "Not to change subjects, but as long as I have both of you former Death Eaters here, I wanted to let you know that I have been in touch with Professor Franks about detaching both of you from Voldemort's control through your Dark Marks."

"She really believes that can be done?" asks Lucius, looking both surprised and suspicious.

"She believes it is possible," says Daniel, confidently. "Healer Smith has been communicating with Professor Franks, too. We don't have a final answer from Madam Long, but Professor Franks has agreed to go to Azkaban to examine Voldemort's magical state."

"That could be very revealing," I add, thoughtfully. "Madam Long seems to be extraordinarily intuitive about such things. I would like to know what she thinks of the Dark Lord's body, created from the Blood, Flesh, and Bone spell."

"Are you suggesting that in a matter of weeks, we could be released from our connection to the Dark Lord?" asks Lucius.

"Exactly so," replies Daniel.

* * *

"Narcissa was very nice, but Lucius dislikes me," says Hermione, her head resting against my shoulder and her hand in mine. We are sitting on a rickety wooden bench in the garden at The Burrow.

"He does not know you," I reply, sounding more certain than I actually am. "Lucius is rarely around Muggleborns and operates on many preconceived notions. Your intelligence, magical capability, and scholarly qualities fly in the face of all of those."

"I'll give it more time," offers Hermione, squeezing my hand. "It is true that neither of us was comfortable around the other. Except for when I handed him the Happy-Sleepy orb on the battlefield, the last time I saw him was at the Ministry of Magic. That certainly didn't have any happy memories for me. I hope it doesn't have any for him."

"He will demonstrate his commitment to both of us by negotiating the Claiming contract with the Weasleys on Sunday," I remark, hoping that Lucius will not ruin my plans by behaving badly.

"How soon will we be able to hold the ceremony?" asks Hermione, turning her head up so that I may gaze into her sweet brown eyes.

"Three weeks would probably be the earliest possibility," I reply. "I am anxious to have it sooner, rather than later."

"Once we're official, I could go to Chicago and you could meet me there," says Hermione, breathily.

I lean down and kiss her. Hermione's arms move around my neck and mine enclose her to pull her close. I appreciate the thin silk of her gown as my hands explore while Hermione opens her mouth to mine.

The lamp at the back door lights.

Damn. Molly is at it again.

"We have to get this ceremony done so we can get away from Molly's constant chaperonage," I sigh, willing my heart to slow down and my blood to cool.

"Please make sure that Mr. Malfoy knows that we want freedom from being chaperoned when we're in Chicago," grumbles Hermione.

"Better than that," I answer, as I carefully untangle one of Hermione's curls from around the buttons at my collar. "Narcissa knows that is what we want. She will ensure that it happens or at worst, Draco is listed as a chaperone."

"That's as good as having no chaperone at all," says Hermione, smiling.

"My thoughts exactly," I reply, snatching one more kiss before walking Hermione to the door where Molly is watching our every move.

* * *

Press Release  
Office of the Minister for Magic  
July 9th, 1999

Amelia Bones, Minister for Magic, is pleased to announce that specific individuals involved in the recent Battle of Malfoy Manor will be formally recognized by the Ministry for their courage and sacrifice on behalf of wizarding Britain. Because of the nature of the battle, the Wizengamot will award the Order of St. Hugh, first, second, and third classes, to selected participants in the effort to bring down the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort.

The Order of St Hugh was created in 1534 by the Queen Consort Anne Boleyn to recognize those witches and wizards who have demonstrated exemplary service to the magical and non-magical world. It commemorates the life of St. Hugh of Lincoln. Born the son of William of Avalon, Hugh chose to give up magic as a gift to our Creator and joined a monastic Order.

Throughout his life, he demonstrated his commitment to the service of others. He is best known in the wizarding world for the one known occasion when he used magic during his adult years. In 1190, when rogue wizards attacked a group of Jews, the Bishop of Lincoln intervened and saved them with a magical display attributed to the power of God. Bishop Hugh served as a diplomat, a peacemaker, and was canonized after his death.

St. Hugh is recognized by the Muggle world as the patron saint of the sick. In the wizarding world, he is recognized as the patron saint of tolerance and protection of the weak by the strong.

After due deliberation, the Wizengamot has chosen to honor some of our citizens for their protection of the Muggle and Wizarding worlds by removing Lord Voldemort and many of his Death Eaters as a threat to the safety of all beings. In a ceremony scheduled for July 20th at the Ministry of Magic, the following individuals will be awarded the Order of St. Hugh.

First Class Recipients, Posthumous:

Joshua Bailey  
Leta Burns  
Dermott Campbell  
Albus Dumbledore  
Timothy Edwards  
Charles Goodwin  
Alexis Green  
Rolanda Hooch  
Cassandra Miller  
Alastor Moody  
Samantha Moore  
Adrian Pucey  
Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Maxwell Turnbull  
Andrew Watson  
Ronald Weasley  
Smithby Wilkinson  
Oliver Wood

First Class Recipients:  
Harry Potter  
Ellen Smith  
Nymphadora Tonks  
Arthur Weasley

Second Class Recipients:  
Hermione Granger  
Jean Lamb  
Limnoreia Lovegood  
Draco Malfoy  
Severus Snape  
Chester Sommersby  
Bill Weasley

Third Class Recipients:  
Cyrus Doolittle  
Mike Lamb  
Remus Lupin  
Lucius Malfoy  
Minerva McGonagall  
Mark Smith  
Imogene Tealsworth  
Charlie Weasley  
Fred Weasley  
George Weasley

The Wizengamot also wishes to recognize the contribution of two individuals who contributed significantly to the effort to eliminate the threat Lord Voldemort posed to the wizarding world in general. Since they are American citizens, they are not eligible to receive the Order of St. Hugh. Instead, they will be awarded Orders of Merlin.

First Class Recipients:  
Roger Littlehorse  
Daniel Schuler

The members of the Wizengamot and the staff of the Ministry for Magic offer their condolences to the families of the fallen, in hopes that they will find comfort in the receipt of this award. Congratulations are offered to all other recipients.

* * *

Author's notes

Thank you to all of my patient reviewers. I'd like to think that I got back to everyone, but I might have missed a few people with the hit or miss approach I used in the last month. Thank you: Dverducci, o0morgana0o, Atreyu Abraxas Black, MysticSong1978, Lipasnape, Luvinthunder, KellyRoxton, Traceyww, Kittykat91419, MollysSister, Laurenke1, Lyndie578, Karla Manatee, Latinachikita, FarmerLiz, Murgy31, Transylvanian, Droxy, Sylphides, Snape's Witch, Kimjo, Machshefa, HinataMorningstar, Oscarxena, Arime Setta, Blue Artemis, Pickles87,Snapeygirl, Maddie50, Shadow, Ihke, Duj, Rinny08, Koliber, Allycat1186, Fairie-Chell, MoreThanSirius, Notwritten, Da-blk-saiyangirl, Dressagegirl, Memommy27, Missbluejuju, Mela, Lonelygirl54, Andi-Scribbles, Legilimens31, Mugglemomof3, Alison, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Merisol, Excessivelyperky, Kcole, GLoW91, Dizi 85, Dedanaan, Ozratbag2, Wulfric Snape, Hanzabonanza, Klschmidt, Feisanna, Mini-Mooney, Cymrugal, and Truly Amused (who submitted the five thousandth review for Looking for Magic!)


	110. Chapter 110

Surprise! As a thank you for your patience while I dealt with The Great Basement Flood of 2008, here is an early posting of the next chapter.

As ever, thank you to Julia for her input.

* * *

July 9th, 1999  
Daniel Schuler

"I would say that Lucius Malfoy isn't entirely thrilled about Hermione's relationship with Snape," Margaret commented, tossing her bolero jacket onto the chair.

"I would say that you're right," said Daniel, hanging up his suit jacket. "Not that it will do him any good. If he pushes Snape on this issue, Malfoy will lose a friend who put his life on the line to save the Malfoy family. Snape will choose Hermione over anyone else in his life."

"Narcissa's attitude is completely different," offered Margaret. "She was as warm and friendly as Lucius was cold and distant. I could tell that she realized how uncomfortable Hermione was and deliberately sent you guys off for brandy and cigars. Once Lucius was out of the room, Hermione was much more herself."

"I'm not surprised," replied Daniel. "I think Snape would have let him have it, if Draco and I hadn't been there. I suspect he'll be seeking out Malfoy for a private talk before the negotiations for the Claiming contract take place on Sunday."

"You didn't tell them about the prophecy, did you?" asked Margaret as she sat on the side of the bed. She took off her shoe and rubbed her foot. Both shoes landed soundlessly on the thickly carpeted floor.

"No," said Daniel, loosening his tie. "I decided it didn't serve a purpose to set that cloud over their heads. Voldemort is contained and we have time to figure out a way to kill him on a permanent basis. It will become one of the priorities for research at Avalon College."

Margaret eyed her husband suspiciously as he sat down on one of the chairs next to the small round table near the hotel window.

"There's more to this than what you've told me, isn't there?" she asked, pulling herself up on the bed. She drew the pillows up behind her back to make herself more comfortable.

Daniel nodded, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought about it.

"Voldemort didn't know the prophecy," said Daniel, decisively. "The security around the Nostradamus prophecies is absolute. He couldn't possibly have known this."

"Go over it again," suggested Margaret, encouragingly.

Daniel rose and went over to the mini bar. He opened the refrigerator and took out a small bottle of white wine. Pulling the cork, he poured the contents into glasses provided by the hotel. He handed one to Margaret and took the other as he perched on the edge of the bed facing her.

"Keep in mind that this was translated from the original Latin," he said as he began to recite from memory.

"_The wizard of Dark Humours shall seek out the Maiden. The partner of the Marked Man, their creation alone can contain his magic."_

"That's what happened," said Margaret, sipping her wine. "Of course, we don't know exact dates and all of that but it appears that Hermione was still a maiden brewer when she came up with the idea for the Happy-Sleepy potion. It was Snape who did most of the work to develop it. It is apparent to me that Bill Weasley and Hermione were never actually romantically involved. It was probably Snape all along. I would say that Voldemort's magic is pretty much contained."

"That is one interpretation of the prophecy," mused Daniel, taking Margaret's hand and playing with her fingers. "When I worked the Arithmancy, it pointed to another possible interpretation that I think may actually be the point of the prophecy. That other interpretation offers a whole other set of possibilities."

"Which would be?" urged Margaret.

"Voldemort must have known that he needed to replace his body and was seeking a maiden brewer as early as March of 1998," said Daniel. "Given the age ranges of the missing women, he must have been looking for any virgin who might be capable of brewing the fertility potion. He didn't find one and by the time he learned about Hermione Granger, it was too late. She wasn't a maiden anymore."

"Too late?" questioned Margaret. "His backup plan required that the fertility potions be stolen from that hospital. That happened when the ward clerk Polyjuiced herself and took them. He still managed to get the potion."

"It was too late for the alternative prophecy to work. Voldemort sabotaged himself," said Daniel shaking his head. "Tom Riddle had to have some skill with Arithmancy. He had the fertility potion and selected a set of parents. If he had known about the prophecy and plugged the values for Hermione Granger and Severus Snape into the equation, he would have come up with a different interpretation regarding the appropriate actions to take."

"Which is?"

"A child," said Daniel, smiling. "The creation of the Marked Man and the Maiden which could have contained his magic."

"The prophecy referred to their child and not the Happy-Sleepy potion?" asked Margaret, astonished.

"I have particular kinds of information available about Severus Snape and Hermione Granger that Voldemort would never have thought of getting," admitted Daniel, "Including DNA."

"Daniel Schuler," lectured Margaret, twinkling, "You did not."

"I did, too," smiled Daniel, not the least bit guilty. "If Riddle had access to the prophecy, he might have done things very differently. Of all of his Death Eaters, the most powerful were the Lestranges, Malfoy, and Snape. Voldemort chose Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to create the child for his immortal self to inhabit. He decided to go for power, name, wealth and beauty. A short-sighted choice. With Snape, he would have had power combined with higher intelligence. He wouldn't have the beauty, name or wealth.

"When I ran the Arithmantic analysis on the Malfoys, it projected that all of their offspring would be magically powerful. Draco is certainly living proof of that. He will be just as powerful as Lucius, which is pretty darn good, but not to Tom Riddle's level.

"Riddle was wrong if he thought that taking possession of their newborn infant would give him a body capable of producing magic as strong as his own original body. If he knew that the child would not be powerful enough, he must have thought that his knowledge of Dark magic would make the difference. He could take over the Death Eaters again in about twenty years and control them through his unparalleled knowledge of the Dark Arts."

"He was looking in the wrong direction," continued Daniel. "He should have partnered Severus Snape with the right witch. Voldemort was already looking for a maiden brewer. If he'd had the prophecy to guide him, he might have looked at all of the women involved in the conflict differently. He might not have discounted Hermione Granger and considered the possibility that she was the target of the prophecy. Given that she turned out to be the maiden brewer, she is certainly the Maiden referred to in the prophecy."

Daniel looked grim. "To regain a healthy body with potential for the necessary level of magic and intelligence, he should have kidnapped Hermione Granger while she was still a maiden and forced Snape to father a child on her. He could have required that she brew the fertility potion needed to guarantee the conception of a child the first time she had sex, which would have been with Snape."

"You mean the child of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger would be that powerful? As powerful as Riddle in his original body?" asked Margaret, smiling with delight.

"And then some," assured Daniel. "Fifty percent of the children of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger will be enormously magically powerful, combined with high intelligence."

"How powerful?"

"Think Crazy Horse, Nefertiti, Sun Tzu, St. Germain or Hatshepsut."

"Wow," exclaimed Margaret. "They could have children that powerful?"

"Absolutely," replied Daniel, with certainty. "With one caveat."

"Which would be?" asked Margaret, intrigued.

"Their daughters," laughed Daniel, "It's only their daughters. It will take those two X chromosomes to create witches who will be every bit as powerful as a Nefertiti. Their sons will be strong wizards, just as strong as their father. But, the XY chromosome combination won't be as potent as the XX combination.

"The funniest part about it is that Riddle could have been even more powerful than he was in his original body, he just would have had to accept a sex change to do it."

"That's incredible," said Margaret, shaking her head in astonishment. "Hermione and Severus Snape are essentially getting engaged. Your projections for Hermione indicated that she would get married in her early twenties. By the time she's thirty, she could be raising baby Nefertitis."

"It's a darn good thing both of them are smart and resourceful," said Daniel. "They're going to need it to cope with daughters who are more powerful than they are."

"No kidding," said Margaret, scratching her nose and looking rather alarmed. "Their children will be more powerful than anyone on our side and you're not going to warn them?"

"Nope," said Daniel, cheerfully. "I'm just going to make sure that we get Severus Snape for Avalon College, no matter how much it costs. We'll make certain that Hermione gets a free ride through graduate school in exchange for agreeing to work for one of our pharmaceutical companies. I want them here in the United States and working for our interests. We want them and we want their kids to be on our list of assets and not someone else's."

"We just need to make sure that they have what they need and want, so they'll stay," suggested Margaret. "They have each other. Hermione has her education in process. Snape can be recruited. They are friends with Roger and Gerhardt. Draco has already made up his mind to stay in the United States, regardless of what he has or hasn't told his parents. What else will they need?"

"Acceptance and respect for Snape," stated Daniel, confidently. "A life where he is free to build his own future without being manipulated by a Voldemort or an Albus Dumbledore."

"We're planning to manipulate him," replied Margaret, with brutal honesty.

"Manipulate him to get him on our side," mused Daniel. "Not micromanage him, which is what those two did to him. Snape and Hermione will be free to make their own lives and direct their own careers. It is far more effective to give people the chance to get what they want."

"And gets us what we want at the same time," laughed Margaret.

"Exactly," stated Daniel, grinning.

-----------

Thank you to all my reviewers: MissPrincess1989, Dressagegrrl, Atreyu Abraxas Black, Fatalini-Zabini, Laurenke1, KellyRoxton, Seth7, Magicdaisy, HarnGin, Oscarxena, mnokat, teddy240b, DarqueHart, Mrsdan, Dverducci, Lyndie578, HinataMorningstar, Jade2099, MollysSister, Karla Manatee, Da-blk-saiyangirl, TXwitchywoman, Rowaine, T wrecks, Traceyww, Dancingkatz, Blue Artemis, Snapeygirl, Kirien, Squeaker19450, Severessa, KimJo, Andi-Scribbles, Nutters4Potter, Maddie50, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Amsev, Duj, o0morgana0o, Droxy, MysticSong1978, MoreThanSirius, Keske, Koliber, Notwritten, Shadow, GLoW91, Snakegirl-Sprockett, A Reader, Legilimens31, Kcole, Mela, Excessivelyperky, and Mother of Tears


	111. Chapter 111

I really wish that I owned this.

As ever, thank you to Julia for making this story make sense. The amazing Katyes is up to 99 chapters in her German translation of _Looking for Magic_.

* * *

July 11th, 1999  
Morning  
Severus

The spell I just cast results in glowing waves of blue light that brush over the surface. They turn gray and run down the wall, vanishing when they reach the floor.

Minerva and I face each other, the answer to our query is quite clear.

"I have stretched this out as long as I can," says Minerva, shaking her head. "When I realized how long it was taking, I held meetings everywhere but in my office."

"Have you asked the elves or the ghosts if they have seen him?" I ask.

"Yes," says Minerva, frustrated. "None of them have seen him, but he might not be here. Poppy has been to their cottage. If he was there, she would have said something. The only other place I can think of where he might have gone would be the Ministry. If anyone had seen him there, it would have been all over The Daily Prophet."

Minerva and I are in her office, the Headmistresses' office. We are looking at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which is absolutely still.

It is more than two weeks since he died and his portrait has not activated. That falls outside of the boundaries of how portrait magic works. Even if the portrait only showed him sleeping, he should be in that chair snoring with his chest moving up and down. Instead, it is as still as a Muggle portrait.

"I can only conclude that Albus has become a ghost," sighs Minerva, offering me tea.

"Given that his portrait has not activated," I reply, accepting the cup, "I must concur."

"How do I tell Poppy?" says Minerva, her brow furrowed in worry. "She is going to be devastated. Not only is Albus a ghost, but we have no idea where he has gone."

"I find it hard to believe that Albus would go anywhere but here," I muse. "He lived here for over seventy years and loved Hogwarts."

"Yesterday, I acknowledged the reality that the portrait was not activating and asked the ghosts to look for him," says Minerva, absently stirring her tea. "The Baron and Sir Nicholas assure me that they have all searched diligently and have not found him. I asked the house-elves to do likewise. There is no sign of his presence."

"Perhaps he is not bound to the castle," I suggest. "He may be in the Forbidden Forest or roaming the grounds."

"I had not considered that," admits Minerva. "I shall ask the ghosts and Hagrid to look." Minerva covers her face with her hands. "How in the world do I tell Hagrid?" she moans. "He adored Albus. It has been hard enough on him as it is without this."

I understand what Minerva means. I returned to my quarters at Hogwarts yesterday and was welcomed back with a rib crushing hug and more tears than could be contained by the towel-sized handkerchief Hagrid pulled out of his pocket.

"There is no way of avoiding it," I reply. "This cannot be hidden and we must begin to tell people."

"How do you think that they will react?" asks Minerva, her hands falling to her lap.

"With shock," I reply, raising an eyebrow. "Albus was fond of saying that to the organized mind, death was the next great adventure. If he has not crossed over to the other side, it can only be interpreted that his mind was not as organized as he portrayed it to be."

"As much as I do not wish to disparage our ghostly friends of Hogwarts," admits Minerva, looking around furtively, "it will be a scandal if Albus is here."

"Which I why I hope he is elsewhere," I reply, gazing up at the bearded countenance and the dull blue eyes. "None of us want to think that his unfinished business or unresolved issues had anything to do with us or the school."

"Perhaps the unfinished business has to do with the meeting with Harry?" muses Minerva. "Harry was supposed to meet Albus to discuss why he was required to live with his Muggle aunt."

"That is certainly a piece of unfinished business," I reply. "Potter was furious when he learned that the protection provided by his mother's willing sacrifice would have kept him safe from the Dark Lord no matter where he lived."

"If that was the unfinished business, he might be at the Order's headquarters," says Minerva. "With all of the people coming and going, he should have been seen."

An idea occurs to me.

"What if he does not wish to be found?" I ask.

"Why in the world would he hide?" wonders Minerva. She shakes her head. "Never mind. I know the answer. After portraying himself as a fount of wisdom and the greatest wizard of his generation, ending up as a ghost must be humiliating."

"Albus was a proud man," I comment. "He would not want to be judged by others and found wanting."

"He cannot hide that he has become a ghost," insists Minerva. "His portrait tells the story."

"Is it possible that he is haunting his childhood home?" I ask. "Where did he live before he came to work at Hogwarts? What about where he stayed when he was in Europe during the Grindelwald business? There are any number of places he could have gone where it might not occur to someone to tell us."

"I cannot imagine that there is any place in Great Britain or Europe that Albus Dumbledore would not be recognized," says Minerva, shaking her head.

"What if he appears considerably younger than how he looked when he died?" I query. "He might not be recognized."

"I thought that was impossible," comments Minerva, skeptically.

"If anyone could do it," I reply, wryly, "it would be Albus."

"Shit," says Minerva, leaning back in her chair with a dramatic sigh of despair.

"My sentiments, exactly," I reply.

* * *

"It's bad enough that you die on me only days after you retire," shouts Poppy at the still portrait. "Then you have the unmitigated gall to become a ghost and hide so I can't yell at you in person."

The last half hour has been traumatic for all of us. Hermione says that there are different stages of grieving. We discussed it when she was having a terrible time dealing with her guilt over the murder of her parents.

I believe I am seeing all of them, compressed into half an hour. After running through denial and depression, we seemed to have reached acceptance and then Poppy took a great leap back into anger. I have not seen striking a bargain, yet. Perhaps, by the time we reach an hour…

When Minerva asked Poppy to floo up here, she stepped out of the fireplace and immediately looked at Albus' portrait. She thought that she was coming to see Albus' portrait so that they could talk, again. Then, she said she had planned to have a good cry. It came as a shock to discover that he was no more active than a Muggle portrait.

Poppy has no more idea of why this has happened and where he has gone than I do. Whatever Albus' unfinished business may be, it is more by his definition than any of ours. I think we were all aggravated enough with him to consider our business with him to be finished.

"Can you think of any other places we should look?" asks Minerva.

Poppy flops gracelessly into a chair. She looks away while she collects herself.

"The house where Albus grew up was destroyed in the bombing of London during the Battle of Britain," she sighs. "A new house has been constructed on the land. I will go and investigate it tomorrow. When we were in Europe during the Grindelwald business, we didn't stay in any location for more than one or two weeks at a time. I sincerely doubt that he would go back there.

"Fawkes just had his burning time and is a chick," she continues. "I do not believe that he is going to stay with me as a familiar, but he might help us with a search for Albus' ghost."

"Has Fawkes shown any preferences, so far?" I ask.

"Not yet," comments Poppy. "According to Hagrid, he will start disappearing for periods of time after Albus has been gone a month. He may take as long as six months to choose another witch or wizard. I will talk to Fawkes about helping with our search. He is sentient enough to understand what we need. The ghosts cannot enter the Chamber of Secrets. Though, I doubt that Albus has hidden there."

"We should not assume anything," Minerva remarks. "If anyone could manage it, it would be Albus. I shall ask Harry to come and open it up for us." Minerva looks over at me. "Would you and Jean like to check to see if anyone or anything is lurking about?"

"I would be delighted," I reply, restraining my enthusiasm. "Jean and I have wanted a chance to investigate the Chamber and see if there is anything other than a basilisk that Salazar might have left behind."

"Use Bubblehead charms when you go," counsels Poppy. "Between the odor of rotten basilisk and the potential for nasty germs, you'll want protection."

"Duly noted," I assure her.

"I'll make copies of Albus' award letter for the Order of St. Hugh, since we don't have the medals, yet," says Poppy, with a snort. "Albus always liked pretty baubles. That might entice him out, if only to give Amelia Bones a piece of his mind."

"The Order of St. Hugh is an honorable award," replies Minerva, sniffing. "There is no reason to make it sound less so."

"I will certainly agree that it is an honorable award," comments Poppy. "I will also stand by my statement that the only reason Albus was awarded first class is because he died and they counted him as a casualty of the battle."

"That entire list is a political statement," offers Minerva.

"I wonder if any of it was negotiated by Albus as a part of his deal with Amelia Bones?" asks Poppy.

"From my discussions with Amelia," comments Minerva, "I really doubt that it was. She came up with this one completely on her own."

"It is intended to be a payoff," I scoff. "It will deflect attention away from the Ministry's failure to capture Riddle themselves."

"Exactly," says Minerva. "I am certain that not a single soul has noted that the Americans were given Orders of Merlin, the more prestigious award. On top of that, only Ministry employees and the honored dead will receive Orders of St. Hugh, First Class. If there was anyone among the living who deserved a first class…"

"Do not start, Minerva," I interrupt. "There is no point. While an Order of Merlin would have been preferable," I offer, modestly, "the Order of St. Hugh is acceptable. As far as I am concerned, I have come out of this whole mess without ending up in Azkaban or dead on the battlefield. A medal of any sort offers acknowledgement that my role as a spy among the Death Eaters was necessary and contributed to Voldemort's capture. I consider avoiding prosecution, in spite of Madam Wellingham's best efforts, to be an excellent outcome."

"It isn't like you to be prosaic about things," says Poppy. "Perhaps I should check you for a fever."

"I am being pragmatic," I reply, taking note of the time. "I recognize the medal for what it is. While I hate to drop this fascinating topic of discussion, I must leave for another appointment."

"You are going to see Lucius?" asks Minerva, wryly. She looks at Poppy. "The Weasleys and Malfoys are supposed to meet this afternoon to negotiate the Claiming contract."

"Dear me!" exclaims Poppy, throwing up her hands. "The Malfoys are going to call on the Weasleys at The Burrow? Would that I were an Animagus and could transform myself into a fly so I could listen in on that conversation."

"I am going to see Lucius to have a discussion that should make it unnecessary to have a fly on the wall," I state, determinedly. "I have followed tradition by asking him to negotiate the Claiming contract on my behalf. Of my cousins, many times removed, he and I have had the closest relationship. If he is unable to set aside his biases against Muggleborns, he will not participate in the negotiations."

I offer Minerva a formal bow.

"Your blood kinship may not be as close to me as Lucius," I remark, "but you have been as dear to me as any blood kin could possibly be. If I am unable to work this out with Lucius, I would like to set tradition aside and ask you to meet the Weasleys to negotiate the contract on my behalf."

Minerva stands, her hand raised to her heart. She holds out her other hand to me and I take it.

"It would be my honor and privilege to stand as kin and represent you in the negotiations of the Claiming contract," she says, sounding moved and offering a warm smile.

"That's beautiful," exclaims Poppy, bursting into tears.

The next few minutes are spent helping Poppy to recover from her outburst. I produce yet another of my handkerchiefs to contribute to the effort and make a mental note to order more.

* * *

Lucius runs his hand along the frame, examining the newly replaced windows in the solarium.

This is the first time I have been back to the Manor since the battle. I do not remember much of what happened after the glass exploded and embedded what felt like a thousand shards in my back.

I realize that I am staring at the corner of the solarium where Ima left Narcissa bound and silenced. The last thing that I remember was that there was a horrifying amount of blood pooling on the floor.

"The repairs are complete," murmurs Lucius. "The house-elves will move the new furniture in here this afternoon. Narcissa is determined that we shall return to living at the Manor before Samantha comes to visit."

"I admire Narcissa's courage in facing every challenge that has been presented to her since the battle," I remark.

"She has shown far more courage than I have," admits Lucius, shaking his head. "I presume that is why you asked to see me before Narcissa and I go to the Weasley's home?"

"It is," I reply. "I have asked you to represent me and negotiate a contract to Claim a Muggleborn witch. You seem to be having difficulty with that."

"I do not deny it," replies Lucius, straightening his robes in the manner that he is inclined to use when he wishes to avoid eye contact.

"What is your issue, Lucius?" I ask, insistant.

"It is not Hermione Granger, specifically," says Lucius, quietly. "I am well aware that she is an intelligent and capable witch. I am equally aware that Narcissa would be dead right now, were it not for Miss Granger. I owe you and Miss Granger a debt that I cannot ever repay."

"Then, what is it?" I ask.

"You are of an old family," sighs Lucius. "You have every right to expect a bride from an old family. Instead, you have been slighted by other families of our social class because of what your father did and the fact that you were poor when you were a boy. You should not have had to turn your eye to Muggleborns or even mixed bloods to find a wife."

"Even if Pureblood women were queuing up for my attentions, I would not be interested in them," I state. Lucius must understand this. "Hermione appeals to me for her own qualities to such a degree that bloodlines are irrelevant. This is a love match, Lucius. It is not merely an arrangement between families."

Lucius heaves another sigh and leans back against the door jamb.

"The world is changing so quickly," he murmurs. "Draco is determined to make a love match, too."

"Is that really what this is about? Draco's choice to court Anita Schuler?" I ask.

"In a matter of weeks," says Lucius, "my world has turned upside down. My son is interested in a mixed blood American girl, whose father just happens to be the wealthiest wizard in the world. My closest friend wishes to Claim a Muggleborn. I am contemplating becoming business partners with an American who is the next best thing to a squib, but for his genius level talent in Arithmancy. The Dark Lord is incarcerated and within weeks, you and I may be disconnected from his control through our Dark Marks. Narcissa very nearly died and we may be about to adopt a fourteen year old daughter.

"It is more than I can quite take in at one time," he continues, looking troubled. "Narcissa has made it very clear to me that I behaved badly at dinner on Friday night. I have been chastised to a degree that you cannot even begin to approach."

Lucius rubs his cheek in a way that makes me wonder if Narcissa slapped him.

"I never thought that a Muggleborn would be a guest at my table," says Lucius, pensively. "I could not stop thinking about what my father would say. What our former friends and associates would say. I could not get past the unbelievability of the situation."

"Perhaps, as you get to know her as Hermione, you will think of her less as a Muggleborn and more as simply herself," I suggest. "You have met her only once."

"I believe that you are right," offers Lucius, straightening up. "Whoever or whatever she is, she is your choice. If the world were ordered in the way that it should have been, you would have been born my younger brother. I will serve your interests as a brother should and negotiate the contract for Miss Granger on your behalf."

"Can you do this?" I ask. I must be certain. "If you cannot, Minerva McGonagall will step in and take the responsibility."

Lucius has the unmitigated gall to look offended.

"You would have a _Gryffindor_ negotiate a contract instead of a _Slytherin_?" he asks, in mock horror. "She will have you restricted to holding hands with your intended in the Gryffindor common room. You must leave this matter in my far more capable hands," he sniffs, aristocratically.

"That is certainly what I would prefer," I reply. "If you and Narcissa are going to negotiate the contract, then both of you will bless the bracelets at the Claiming ceremony. If you cannot do this with a whole heart, you must decline now."

"I do not question your ability to choose a woman who is a suitable match for you," says Lucius, clapping me on the shoulder. "I shall endeavor to view her in that light and get to know her. The most important factor in all of this is whether or not she can make you happy. If she can achieve that for you, I will give her my blessing without reservation."

Do I believe Lucius?

I do not know.

If he does not conduct the negotiation properly, Molly and Arthur will tell me. Narcissa will certainly contact me even before they do. Hermione and I will not sign the contract and I will tell Lucius that Minerva will stand for me in contract negotiations.

Then, Narcissa and I will deal with Lucius and provide him with an attitude adjustment of major proportions. And, I will keep Hermione away from him after that. If it means sacrificing my relationship with Lucius, that is the price he will pay.

"Based on the trust that has existed between us since we were boys," I state, "I will trust you now."

"I will not disappoint you," he replies.

I do not answer.

* * *

Afternoon  
Hermione

By Malfoy standards, the Weasleys live in a hovel. I have to give them credit for not so much as blinking as they walked in the door.

I'm actually doing this. I hope my sister feminists everywhere don't kick me out of the club when they find out that I am behaving in a way more suited to the last century than the current one. What I learned about Claiming from the Internet doesn't begin to deal with the minutiae of the reality. There is a huge amount of tradition and custom attached to this and I am expected to comport myself accordingly.

As an honorary daughter of the house, I was standing beside Ginny as Mrs. Weasley admitted them. Being the youngest people in the room, both of us curtseyed. Since Ginny is unmarried, theoretically the Malfoys could be calling on the Weasleys to ask for Ginny instead of me. That means that both of us had to be present to greet them and both of us had to wear white or ivory dresses.

I am wearing an ivory dress with a blue sash. Ginny is wearing white with green. My hair is up in the Gibson Girl style. Ginny's hair is down around her shoulders.

She's prettier than me. I hope Lucius doesn't try to pull any last minute substitutions in the hope of getting a Pureblood for Severus.

I restrain a giggle at the thought of Harry's reaction to finding out that in a switch, Ginny just got Claimed by Severus Snape.

Severus told me that he was going to have a talk with Lucius and that if he pulled any shenanigans, the negotiations would be nullified and he would ask Professor McGonagall to represent him.

My feelings about it are all mixed up. I would feel more comfortable if Minerva was negotiating with the Weasleys. On the other hand, Severus views Lucius like a brother. There are so few people that Severus is close to, I don't want him to lose that. At the same time, Lucius Malfoy frightens me.

I made sure that Otter had instructions about memories I want hidden from Malfoy. I don't think he is a Legilimense, but I'm not taking any chances. Hopefully, I just won't have to be around Lucius Malfoy very often.

As we straighten from our curtseys, Narcissa holds out her hands to me in welcome and I take them.

"Hermione, I am so delighted to see you again and to be here on this auspicious occasion," she says, blithely.

"I'm pleased to see you, too," I reply as we walk into the parlor. I notice that Lucius offers his arm to Molly, which she politely accepts. Ginny steps back and follows us, with Arthur bringing up the rear.

It isn't exactly a long walk from the entry way of the Weasley's house to the parlor. At Malfoy Manor, it felt like a city block. Here, it takes about four steps. In short order, the Malfoys are seated on the sofa that once graced my parents' family room. Molly and Arthur are in the matching overstuffed chairs and Ginny and I are standing side-by-side.

I glance to the side to make certain that the stained glass sun catcher hanging in the window has a clear view of the sofa.

Official greetings and introductions to Ginny are made. I notice that Arthur is sitting very stiffly in a chair meant for slouching.

I don't think he likes Lucius Malfoy, either.

Molly and Narcissa, on the other hand, are filling in the silences between the two men with plenty of polite small talk about weather and how lovely Molly's garden is this time of year.

Ginny and I excuse ourselves to the kitchen to make tea. My tea is generally better than hers, so I attend to that while Ginny rearranges an assortment of Molly's home-magicked raspberry thumbprints and chocolate dipped shortbreads. The good tea service is ready.

By tradition, I am to carry the tea service without magic. It's supposed to demonstrate that I am humble and honor our guests.

Not that I am actually humble. It's just supposed to look that way.

Ginny opens the door and I walk into the parlor, hoping I don't trip over my long skirt and send Molly's good tea service flying in all directions. Dousing the Malfoys with tea would certainly set an interesting tone for the negotiations.

Mishaps avoided, I place the tea service on the coffee table. Ginny puts the plate of biscuits alongside it.

We curtsey simultaneously and with such grace that we could have been refugees from a chorus line.

Molly plays mother and offers tea all around. Once the guests are served, she turns to us and we are dismissed.

We curtsey again and walk gracefully from the room, followed by as silent a mad dash up the stairs as we can manage. Silencing charms in place, we sit on Ginny's bed and she activates the mirror so we can see and hear what is going on in the parlor.

"_My roses are doing exceptionally well, this year," says Molly. _

We can't see Molly's face because of the angle of the mirror in the sun catcher. We can see Narcissa and Lucius on the sofa and Arthur in his chair.

"_Mine were especially lush, the last time I saw them in June," says Narcissa. "I am looking forward to working in my garden again when we move back to the Manor in a few days. Perhaps in a week or two, you could come out and see them."_

Ginny and I gape at each other. Narcissa Malfoy just extended a social invitation to Molly Weasley.

"_I'm sure I'd love to see them," replies Molly. "I can bring you some of those blue magenta climbing roses to add to your garden. The first flowers that they produce every year are pink, but then you start to get the most stunning purple blooms."_

"_I've been thinking of putting up a trellis along the west wall of the garden," comments Narcissa. "Purple blooms would be perfect there."_

"Do you see how Dad and Mr. Malfoy are looking at each other?" asks Ginny in hushed whisper.

"They've scarcely said two words," I reply.

"Dad can't stand him," says Ginny.

"I don't think Malfoy cares much for your dad, either," I mention, continuing to watch.

"_Congratulations on the announcement that you will be receiving an Order of St. Hugh, First Class," says Lucius to Arthur._

"_You are receiving an award, too," replies Arthur, carefully. "Congratulations."_

"_Thank you," replies Lucius, tonelessly._

Dead silence.

"_Perhaps we should discuss the Claiming contract," says Narcissa, looking in Molly's direction._

"_Excellent idea," says Molly._

"_Ahem," says Lucius, clearing his throat and sitting ramrod straight. "We are here to petition on behalf of my kinsman, Severus Constantine Snape. He would like to establish formal exclusive courting rights with Hermione Jane Granger of your house. If it is agreeable to your family, Severus Snape would like to enter into a Claiming contract with Miss Granger."_

"His middle name is Constantine?" I mutter to Ginny. "He never told me that."

"Shhhhhh," says Ginny.

"_My wife and I are willing to entertain a Claiming petition from Severus Constantine Snape for Hermione Jane Granger, whom we consider to be a daughter of our house," replies Arthur, giving the proper formal response._

"_We are prepared with a detailed statement so that you might see that Severus Snape has his financial affairs in order and is capable of supporting a wife, should the Claiming result in marriage," says Lucius, taking out a packet of parchments from a pocket in his robes. He hands one to Arthur, who takes out his reading glasses and begins to peruse it."_

"Supporting a wife?" I hiss. "Do they think that if Severus and I end up married that I'm going to stay home and not work?"

"Shhhhhh," says Ginny.

"I couldn't do it right now, but after I complete my Potions degree, I could support Severus, if he wanted to stay home and raise our kids," I mumble to myself.

Ginny is looking at me in horror.

"You and Professor Snape making babies," she says with a stutter, eyes wide. "Wow."

I am about to give Ginny a piece of my mind when Arthur starts to speak.

"_I see that he is a member of Hogwarts pension scheme and eligible to retire on his 100__th__ birthday," Arthur comments._

"Retirement?" I mutter. "What are they doing? Developing a prenuptial agreement? They didn't ask for any of my financial information. Haven't they heard of women's liberation?"

"Actually," comments Ginny while waving me to be quiet, "they probably haven't."

"Well, they should," I insist. "And what's wrong with Severus and me having babies?"

"_Professor Snape also owns the patents on the potions listed in this document," says Lucius, handing Arthur another form. "You can see that there is considerable income from those. There are patents for translation charms that he inherited from his late father. The revenue generated by licensing fees for the translation charms is donated to charitable causes. Professor Snape is partial to donating funds to preserve the Forbidden Forest, various magical creature preserves, and an assortment of magical arboretums."_

"_He's a man who likes his potions ingredients," comments Molly, chuckling. "Speaking of which, I am going to make more tea."_

"_May I help you with that?" offers Narcissa._

"_Of course," replies Molly._

Ginny scrambles to activate the mirror to show what is going on in the kitchen. We both fiddle with it so that the mirror works as a split screen, with the living room on one half and the kitchen on the other.

The view from the mirror hidden over the kitchen sink is definitely not as good as the view from the sun catcher in the living room. We can see the kitchen table, which is not where Molly and Narcissa are at the moment.

"_I thought it would be a good time for us to escape while the men are discussing the financial end of things," says Molly. _

"_Good planning on your part," replies Narcissa. "They seem to be playing nice together, so you and I can work the important aspects of the contract."_

"_Agreed," says Molly. _

The two women are coming into view. They are carrying what looks like Molly's everyday mugs with the plain brown teapot she keeps in the kitchen. They take seats at the kitchen table and Narcissa opens the discussion.

"_What about access to each other?" asks Narcissa._

"_Hermione is young, but she's got a good head on her shoulders," says Molly. "Severus is a mature man and he's been a teacher for a long time. He's still a man and she's still a teenage girl. We need to make sure that conventions are followed in public and that they are discreet about everything else."_

"_I agree," says Narcissa. "They will follow standard decorum at public social engagements. Severus can offer Hermione his arm at times when escort is appropriate. Taking her hand, kissing her hand, kissing her cheek and other modest public displays of affection are acceptable when considering time and place."_

"_I think we should allow them close dancing," says Molly. "No groping. Not in public. Not initiated by either of them."_

Ginny looks at me curiously.

"Would you grope Professor Snape in public?" she asks.

"I don't think he'd let me," I reply, mischievously. "I'm sure he'll let me grope him in private."

Ginny blushes.

"_Absolutely," says Narcissa. "After the hearings before the Wizengamot, most people have figured out that Severus and Hermione made the Virgo Curato. They will be watching closely for any signs of inappropriate intimacy to confirm that. Speaking of sex…"_

Ginny and I lean forward, intensely interested in this discussion.

"_In my general experience," interrupts Molly, "once that kneazle is out of the cage, it is very difficult to get it back in."_

Molly and Narcissa are laughing.

"_You are so right," says Narcissa, chuckling. _

Okay, fine. You both realize that Severus and I aren't going to stick to hand holding for the next few years. Get on with it. We've talked about this, Molly.

"_Severus is going to have to be very careful, given that he's a teacher at Hogwarts," says Molly. "There will be no sneaking off to his rooms there. I'm not going to allow it here under my roof, either."_

"_I agree," says Narcissa, emphatically. "We need to look out for Hermione's reputation, too. They really shouldn't do any sneaking around while they're in Britain. Chicago should be all right, though."_

"_As long as gossip isn't traveling back and forth between Chicago and Britain," muses Molly, "it should be safe for them to have time together, there. Maybe we could have an agreement that Draco would be chaperone in name only?"_

"_Draco adores Severus," comments Narcissa. "If Severus tells him to scram, Draco will do as he says. That would give them opportunities for privacy."_

"_How often?" asks Molly._

Ginny and I look at each other, appalled. Molly and Narcissa are going to decide how often Severus and I can have sex?

"_I would think that Severus' visits to Chicago shouldn't be more than twice a month," says Narcissa, thoughtfully. "Even that often might start people talking, unless he can come up with a business reason for the trips."_

"_Hermione says that he's going to teach a class there, next summer," says Molly. "Something special about Dark Arts potions for Aurors."_

"_Severus would be very good at that," says Narcissa, nodding. "That could be his official reason for going to Chicago so often."_

"_I think that this is something we can trust Hermione and Severus to work out between them," says Molly. "They just need to be discreet and avoid gossip. They'll have to behave themselves in public. They may not move in together, as long as Severus is a teacher at Hogwarts. That will get him in trouble."_

"_I agree with that," says Narcissa. "What happens if Hermione gets pregnant?"_

Ginny and I are gaping at each other. Exactly how much of this is going to be written into the contract?

"_I would certainly hope that two Potions experts would not allow such a thing to happen," declares Molly._

"_Accidents happen," says Narcissa, primly._

"_That's why the official story is that Bill was born prematurely," offers Molly, confidentially._

I'm looking at Ginny, who looks shocked, appalled, and horrified.

I guess she didn't know that. I didn't know that. I wonder if Bill knows that?

Molly and Narcissa are positively cackling over their tea.

"_Do they want children?" asks Narcissa. "I did not discuss that with Severus."_

"_Hermione does," says Molly. "She's talked about it with Severus and I think that he is open to the idea."_

I sneak a look at Ginny, who is still aghast at the revelation that her parents had premarital sex.

"_In that case," says Narcissa, "if Hermione becomes pregnant, they get married. If they think that their relationship isn't going to be permanent, they can do a year and a day marriage contract."_

"_Agreed," says Molly. "That seems like a sensible solution."_

That's fine. I'd want our baby, even if Severus and I didn't work out. We will, though. We'll be just fine.

"_What about gifts?" asks Narcissa._

"_Whatever gifts they give each other they keep, even if they split up," declares Molly. "There should be the standard clause that gifts of family heirlooms should not be given unless they set a wedding date."_

"_Agreed," says Narcissa. "What about the ceremony? I know that Severus already has the bracelets."_

"_As is traditional, we will hold the ceremony in our garden," says Molly, nodding._

This area is tricky. I offered to give Molly the money to pay for the party and she got offended. Severus said that Narcissa had a plan in mind.

"_You have a beautiful garden," compliments Narcissa. "It will be perfect for the Claiming ceremony."_

Molly looks relieved. I'm certain she thought that the Malfoys would say that The Burrow isn't good enough and the ceremony should be held at Malfoy Manor.

"_We will put up a tent on the west side of the garden for the party," says Molly._

"_That is a perfect location," says Narcissa. "If you will allow it, I would like to give you a gift in honor of the debts I owe your family."_

"_None of us consider you to be in our debt. We all worked to defeat Voldemort and we all made sacrifices," replies Molly, looking less certain of herself. _

"Mum doesn't want to talk about Ron," says Ginny.

"_No family put more on the line than yours," says Narcissa, leaning forward and patting Molly's hand. "If Severus and Hermione had not fallen in love and produced the finest Virgo Curato seen in generations, I would be dead right now. That is a debt that goes beyond anything that I could ever give them or do for them. We have not even spoken of your son."_

Molly pats Narcissa's hand in return, shaking her head.

"_At the same time, I will not trespass on your prerogatives as Hermione's adoptive mother, even if that is an informal arrangement," says Narcissa gently. "Next Sunday, Samantha Pucey is going to come and spend a week with Lucius and me. If all works out as I hope, Samantha will become a part of my family in the way that Hermione has become a member of yours."_

Molly closes her hand over Narcissa's

"_The girls have come to our families in tragic ways," says Molly, comfortingly, "but they add so much joy to our lives. My family is better for taking in Hermione. Yours will be better for taking in Samantha. With Draco so grown up and far away, it will be good to have another youngster around the house."_

"_You see right through me," says Narcissa. "I envy you your large and healthy family. Lucius and I were blessed with only one child."_

"_He's turned out to be a fine young man," offers Molly._

He certainly has, for all the times when he was a complete brat when we were at Hogwarts.

Narcissa dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"_Yes," says Narcissa. "Draco has made me very proud. Just as your Ronald made you proud with the kind of man he was becoming." _

Molly nods and pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket to dab at her eyes.

"_I was unable to attend his funeral," says Narcissa, "Nor have I had the opportunity to offer my respects and sympathies to you in person. Your son sacrificed his life so I could live, along with so many others. He will be remembered in my prayers as long as I live. This is why I want to give you a gift. In memory of Ronald, I would like to give you a gazebo for your garden. It would look lovely at the west side of the garden and there is plenty of land to the west if you should decide to expand your garden around it._

"_I have one, myself," she continues. "The interior will expand to meet your needs. If it rains, tables and chairs can be moved inside and there will still be room for dancing. If it is too warm or too cold outdoors, the temperature inside the gazebo will automatically adjust to make it comfortable. As your other children become engaged or marry, you will be able to use it for their receptions."_

There are sniffles at the kitchen table and up here in the bedroom. I reach out my hand and Ginny takes it, resting her head on my shoulder.

Molly looks like she is considering. I hope she accepts it. It would be perfect for after the ceremony and would look beautiful in the garden. A reminder of Ron, who will surely be at all of those family events in spirit, even if he can't be there in body.

"_I will be happy to accept your gift in memory of Ron," says Molly, softly._

Ginny smiles sadly and squeezes my hand.

"It will be perfect for your Claiming ceremony and when Harry and I get married," she says.

"_Thank you," replies Narcissa, gratefully. "I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to be able to give something to Severus' and Hermione's ceremony."_

"_Can it be constructed that quickly?" asks Molly. "Severus and Hermione would like the ceremony to take place August 7th."_

"_Absolutely," assures Narcissa. "If you are agreeable, they could come out this week. That would give us time to expand the garden, if you like. I do so love gardening and would enjoy helping, if you will allow it."_

It looks like Molly is nodding.

"_I think that would work out," she says, thoughtfully. "Are you certain that you're well enough to be digging about in the dirt?"_

"_Oh, yes," replies Narcissa. "I find it therapeutic and Healer Smith feels that I can do most things as long as I do not wear myself out. I do so love a gardening project."_

"_That's good," says Molly. "Healer Smith is very good, isn't she?"_

"_I like it that she's a woman, too," says Narcissa. "I think women are better listeners …"_

At which time Ginny and I can hear yelling from the side of the mirror showing the men in the parlor. This is a surprise, because all we've heard from there is quiet conversation as they discuss financial issues. Arthur is standing and pointing his finger at Lucius.

"_I had nothing to do with the choices the Wizengamot made," shouts Arthur._

Lucius stands up and points right back at Arthur.

"_It is utter rot that you are to be awarded a First Class when someone like Severus Snape is given a Second Class," says Lucius, malevolently. "You are nothing but a Ministry hack who happened to be present during the battle. Severus spied for years and was paid nothing but Crucio for his efforts. He invented the Happy-Sleepy potion and made it possible to win the war while you did nothing except let your hairline recede!"_

"_At least my receding hairline is natural," spits Arthur. "Some people color their hair and have the brown roots to show it."_

"_Ministry toady!" shouts Lucius._

"_Dark Lord boot licker!" shouts Arthur._

"Oh God," cries Ginny. "They're going for their wands!"

"_THAT IS ENOUGH!" shouts Narcissa_.

I can see Narcissa standing just inside the parlor, with Molly right behind her. Their wands are extended and they are ready to cast.

God only knows what they would cast.

"_This second rate…" starts Lucius._

"_You have no…" says Arthur._

"_SILENCIO," calls out Molly._

The two men look irate as their lips move and no sound issues.

Narcissa strides forward and glares at Lucius.

"_There is no excuse for this kind of behavior," she says, angrily. "If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head when dealing with your brother's future in-laws, I will not permit you to use it."_

"_The same goes for you," says Molly to Arthur, looking like steam is ready to pour from her ears._

"_It is abundantly apparent that it is time to take my husband home," announces Narcissa. "Fortunately, Molly and I have worked out arrangements for a good portion of the contract."_

"_Did you two manage to finish the financial review before you started behaving like a pair of heathens?" demands Molly._

Arthur's head jerks in the affirmative, as he continues to look daggers at Malfoy.

Narcissa turns to Molly.

"_If it is agreeable, I will write a draft of the contract. Lucius will tell me what they discussed and what was agreed to. I will owl you a copy as soon as I have it written. If there is anything that is incorrect or improperly worded, let me know and I will change it."_

"_I'll do that," replies Molly. "Please accept my apologies for my husband's behavior. I am absolutely mortified that he would lose all sense of how a proper host behaves and engage in a shouting match with a guest."_

Arthur is either blushing or turning red with rage. I suppose we won't know which until Molly removes the Silencio.

"_I am the one who must apologize for my husband's behavior," says Narcissa, bowing her head. "We abused your hospitality."_

"_There is no' we' in this," says Molly emphatically. "You and I were having a splendid time until these two decided to forget that they were housebroken."_

Narcissa breaks into a smile at Molly's description.

Lucius looks murderous at having been accused of peeing on the carpet.

Arthur rolls his eyes. I think Molly has used this one, before.

"_I will owl you in a few days. Please offer our goodbyes to Hermione and Ginny. I think it would be best to take this one home," says Narcissa, nodding towards her husband_.

The Malfoys depart, but Ginny and I don't dare go downstairs or Molly and Arthur will wonder how we knew that they were gone.

"_Finite Incantatum," says Molly, sighing._

"_I cannot believe you did that," says Arthur, angrily._

"_I cannot believe you allowed yourself to lose your temper with Malfoy, today of all days," Molly retorts._

"_It is not my fault that the Wizengamot and the Ministry decided to play games with the Orders of St. Hugh in order to manipulate public opinion," says Arthur, with a huff as he sits back down in his chair. "When we were going over Severus' professional credentials and honors, he listed the Order of St. Hugh, Second Class. Malfoy decided to point out, in great detail, how little I have done to deserve a First Class compared to Severus."_

"_You can hardly blame Malfoy for saying what we've already said," says Molly, with brutal honesty. "Of course Malfoy hasn't participated in any of the discussions among the Order members. We know full well that they are only giving first class to those who died and the survivors who are direct Ministry employees, with the exception of Ellen. They weren't going to give Orders of Merlin, because they want to slap the Order of the Phoenix around for capturing Voldemort behind the Ministry's back. Giving any medals at all is a public relations move."_

"_In spite of the insult, which only the Order seems to be realizing is an insult," offers Arthur, sounding calmer, "we need to accept this graciously. The Wizengamot cannot give us a medal for capturing Voldemort and then prosecute us later for what we did to make it happen."_

"_Maybe next time they come," says Molly, "we can talk about the situation. The Malfoys may not have thought this through from the Order's perspective."_

"_Until we got to that point, the negotiations were going well," says Arthur "We had just come to agreement that there would be no dowry or bride price, just a combining of their own assets, if Hermione and Severus get married."_

Dowry? Bride price? Good Lord, the wizarding world has some antiquated ideas. I have no intention of being bought or sold, even if Severus is the recipient. I wonder how that would have been dealt with if I had Claimed Severus, as I had originally planned?

"_Narcissa and I worked out the details about gifts and how they can behave in public, that sort of thing," says Molly. "The Malfoys want to give us a gift for the ceremony in memory of Ron."_

"_Really?" replies Arthur, surprised._

"_A gazebo for the garden," says Molly. "It's a very appropriate gift and would be nicer than a tent for the reception."_

"_After all the hours Ron spent de-gnoming the garden…" mumbles Arthur, putting a comforting arm around Molly's shoulder._

"_We won't have a lot of time to get things ready," says Molly, resting her head against Arthur. _

"_Fortunately, we'll have Hermione and Ginny to provide manpower," says Arthur._

"_Shall we have them come down?" asks Molly._

"_Certainly," says Arthur, turning his head so that he is looking directly at the mirror in the suncatcher. "Girls, you can come and join us."_

Ginny and I look at each other.

"How long do you think they've known about the mirror?"

"Worse than that," says Ginny, wincing. "I wonder if they've been watching me with Harry on the sofa."

"Eeeewe."

"Exactly."

* * *

Author's notes

I needed a middle name for Severus and was perusing a list of Roman names. I selected Constantine, which means _steadfast_, an accurate description of our hero. Constantine is also an important name from Dressagegrrl's _Disguised Affections_, which can be found at this website. It's a lovely romance and I highly recommend it. Dressagegrrl actually has three r's in the _grrl _part, but this website doesn't like three letters in a row and deletes the third one.

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Laurenke1, o0morgana0o, Keske, Jaden Morgan, MissPrincess1989, Murgy31, Darque Hart, T wrecks, Atreyu Abraxus Black, Savik13, Oscarxena, Lone Butterfly, KellyRoxton, KimSpiritTalks, Magicdaisy, Latinachikita, Dressagegrrl, MollysSister, HinataMorningstar, Lyndie578, Maddie50, Angel-65, MamaJMarie, Rinny08, Kcole, Jocemum, Anonymous, Lady Slone, Droxy, Missblujuju, Jade2099, CharmedForce, Andi-Scribbles, Snape's Witch, Blue Artemis, Fire_haired_lovely, Dverducci, MoreThanSirius, Traceyww, Sirsevchick, Snapeygirl, Squeaker19450, Graynavarre, Karla Manatee, Keitaya, MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, Duj, Kirien, Brillant, Thetexasmama, Sylphides, GLoW91, Kittykat91419, Mennie, Mrsdan, Slvrnight, Kiriani Slytherin, Irishgirl686, Snakegirl-Sprockett, ., Notwritten, Legilimens31, HJGrangerRocks, Machshefa, KimJo, Not so Chicken Little, Hgelman, Seth7, QuillaRhian, Excessivelyperky, Proline, Bauerbaby24, Pickles87, MysticSong1978, Nikki, Ginz.X., ShannonG, Trulyamused, and Arsinoe de Blassenville.


	112. Chapter 112

I don't own it, that's for sure.

Thank you to Julia for her help with this chapter. It is always a better story for your input. Many thanks to the others, who shall be named later.

* * *

July 19th, 1999  
Severus

There is a buzzing noise in my ears and my left forearm cramps. I want to howl with the pain. I grit my teeth, instead.

The knot releases.

I release a slow sigh in response.

The buzzing noise diminishes and I open my eyes. I can see Madam Long's hands as she holds them above my face, palm side down. I hear the crisp sound of Professor Franks' voice as she carefully enunciates spell after spell. There is a barely noticeable whooshing sound from Professor Franks' wand, drawing runes in the air.

I can feel something akin to the tug of a Portkey, only weaker and all over my body. Like something is being pulled out of my body.

For an instant, something thin and grey comes between my eyes and Madam Long's hands. The buzzing gets louder. Professor Franks says something and I hear Ellen's voice. Then, Jean's.

The grey disappears.

The buzzing noise is gone.

I feel a little dizzy. I am grateful that I am lying down.

After a few minutes, the dizziness fades.

I feel different. I wonder if that is my imagination?

"How do you feel, Professor Snape?" asks Madam Long, with her Australian accent. Her hands are still above my face.

"I felt dizzy. Before that, I had a buzzing in my ears. They seem to be gone now," I reply.

"That is a common reaction to the procedure," says Professor Franks, reassuringly.

Madam Long moves her hands away.

"Are you ready to sit up?" asks Ellen, solicitously.

"I think so."

I start to move and feel Ellen and Professor Franks assist me by putting their hands beneath my shoulders. When I am sitting upright, they steady me. Limnoreia offers me a glass of water, which I gratefully accept.

I am sitting in the largest of Poppy's treatment rooms, surrounded by smiling women and one suspicious looking Lucius Malfoy. We opted to do the procedure here so that Lucius would not be brought to the Order's headquarters.

Jean holds up a charmed lead glass container that holds what looks like a grey mist.

"Behold," she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "We have essence of Dark Mark."

"Which looks like it will make an excellent base for Evil Soup," interjects Limnoreia.

"An uncommon recipe, I hope," quips Madam Long.

"Death Eaters were required to dine on it regularly," comments Lucius, sounding bored.

The women laugh. Even I am chuckling.

Lucius made a joke. He poked fun at himself. He never does that.

Professor Franks is running a series of analytical spells over the essence of Dark Mark. Limnoreia reads the results aloud so that they are recorded by the Dictoquill. The rest of them are watching intently.

I sneak a quick look at my bare forearm.

The Dark Mark is faded. The colors are a quarter as bright as they had been. Even if it has not disappeared, I could use a simple glamour designed to cover skin discolorations to hide it.

I am so pleased.

I realize that Professor Franks is watching me and smiling.

"Could you repeat that last step?" asks Madam Long, staring at the runes over the jar.

Professor Franks repeats the spell.

"What do you think?" asks Ellen.

"I'm not certain what to think," says Madam Long, shaking her head.

"We'll need to see if we get that same result from Mr. Malfoy's Dark Mark," says Limnoreia, thoughtfully.

"I think we are done with Professor Snape," says Professor Franks. "We will be able to determine for certain that he is disconnected from Voldemort while we are at Azkaban."

"Which means that we are ready for you, Mr. Malfoy," says Madam Long.

Lucius would never admit that the thought of tampering with his Dark Mark makes him nervous. Which is why he is going out of his way to look bored with the whole business.

I step down from the treatment table. Ellen performs a cleaning and sterilizing charm over the table.

Lucius has shed his outer robe and jacket and deposited them on the chair. He rolls up his sleeve in a businesslike manner. Internally, he is probably struggling with the notion of revealing his Dark Mark around others who are not Death Eaters. After so many years of secrecy, it feels strange to allow others to see that hideous Mark of which we were once so proud.

"You've seen the procedure that we used with Professor Snape," remarks Professor Franks. "Do you have any questions about it before we proceed?"

"No," replies Lucius. "I am satisfied as to the safety of the procedure, having watched it performed on Severus."

Several minutes later, Lucius is sitting up and Limnoreia is in possession of another jar of base for Evil Soup.

Madam Long is shaking her head as Professor Franks and Ellen conduct their analysis of the contents.

"It just doesn't feel right," she says. "I expected it to have the usual content of curse residue. This has less curse and a more fluid essence."

"Is it because Voldemort used body fluids to activate the bondslave mark?" asks Ellen.

"No," says Professor Franks, matter of factly. "Most true slavers use body fluids for that, so we've seen it before. This is different and I don't know what it is."

"Neither do I," says Ellen.

"Our Dark Marks predate Riddle's current shell," I state, "It is unrelated to the substances he has used to feed it, such as Nagini's venom or unicorn blood."

"Whatever he did is unprecedented," says Madam Long. "I have studied Inferi and have examined the shell of a person kissed by a Dementor. Whatever he did to make his inner self immortal must be different from the magic used to animate those creatures."

"We'll know more after we examine Voldemort," says Professor Franks. "We can only guess, now."

A silvery stag bounds through the wall and over the treatment table. This room is not big enough for all of us and Patronus livestock.

Potter's voice emerges.

"_Ellen, I've confirmed arrangements at Azkaban and will be joining you at noon for lunch. We can go over security arrangements and then depart."_

The stag dissolves in a burst of sparkles.

"Who is going to Azkaban?" asks Lucius.

"All of us, except for you," replies Ellen, with a raised eyebrow. "We have an appointment with a Dark Lord."

"Please do not misunderstand my question," replies Lucius. "I have no desire to travel to Azkaban and see many of my former associates and the monster who nearly destroyed my family. I ask, because I want to see him utterly destroyed so that he will never pose a threat to anyone again.

"We are hardly an execution squad," says Professor Franks, frostily.

"No," replies Lucius, "That pleasure will be saved for others. I only hope that I will be permitted to watch when the time comes. When it comes to that possibility, I am unrepentant."

Professor Franks looks unrepentantly unimpressed.

Lucius offers a formal bow and removes an envelope from the pocket of his robes. He holds it out to Professor Franks.

"I would be grateful if you would accept this donation in support of your work to free those who have been enslaved by others," he says, formally. "There are other people in other places who have made the foolish choices of youth, just as Severus and I did. I would hope that they can be freed to make other choices. If you will allow, I would like the opportunity to be a continuing sponsor of your efforts."

"You understand that our work is confidential and that we keep the existence of our organization a secret," says Professor Franks, looking Lucius straight in the eye and ignoring the envelope. "There can be no public accolades for any of our sponsors."

"Nor would I expect that," replies Lucius, coolly. "You will find this bank draft is made out to _bearer_. There will be no record of a donation in my account books. Nor shall there ever be. I considered making this anonymously, except that an anonymous donation would never reach a non-existent organization that frees slaves of their masters."

Madam Long looks at Lucius, her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"This is for you, just as much as it is for us?" she asks.

"I find myself in the position of needing to remake my life," replies Lucius, haughtily. "It is quite liberating to be able to support a cause because it is a worthy one, not because I have been ordered to do so or it is for a political advantage."

"In that case," says Professor Franks, looking at Lucius intently, "we would be happy to accept your heartfelt donation to our cause."

Neither Professor Franks nor Madam Long traveled to Scotland in the back of a turnip cart . I daresay that they see Lucius' newly announced effort to _reform_ himself with a rather cynical eye. There is always something in it for Lucius, even if it is only to throw the recipient of his largesse off balance. I suspect the ladies will be examining the bank draft to determine if there are any tracing spells on it.

I cross my arms and wait for this little interlude to end. Lucius will be leaving before Harry Potter arrives. That will be for the best. I do not want to listen to Lucius utter any more half truths.

At least, I would like to think that they are half truths and not outright lies.

* * *

Potter flooed in through Minerva's office. I can see by the look on his face that she broke the news to him. Fortunately, Fawkes just flew in and is trilling one of his more calming songs.

I do not believe that Madam Long and Professor Franks have even noticed that our local celebrity has arrived. Even the Boy Who Lived cannot compete with the charmed ceiling of the Great Hall.

Hands on hips, Madam Long is gazing upward in wonder at the puffs of clouds overhead. Professor Franks is shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight of the noon sun. Minerva notices and with a flick of her wand, a cloud passes over the face of the sun, dimming the excessive brightness.

Introductions are made. Naturally, both ladies recognize Harry Potter. Minerva must have briefed Potter that Madam Long is an Orthodox Jew ahead of time, because he offers a welcoming bow rather than attempting to shake Madam Long's hand.

The light shimmers for a moment and the tables and benches in the Great Hall vanish, to be replaced by one large round table and chairs. Another shimmer and a box appears at each place.

"While you are our guests at Hogwarts," explains Minerva, "we will be enjoying meals catered by a Kosher restaurant in London. I rather enjoy exploring different cuisines and having a change from our standard British fare. Please rest assured that the food is stored exactly as it is sent to us, using stasis charms to keep everything fresh and to the proper temperature. I believe the U inside an O stands for Orthodox Union as an assurance that Kashrut is followed."

"I appreciate the thoughtfulness and your hospitality," says Madam Long, smiling.

Our meal is an excellent one. There is Caesar salad, salmon with a cucumber and dill sauce, rice pilaf with vegetables, and lemon sorbet for afters.

Even cutlery is contained in the box. Madam Long explains that to comply with dietary law, the plates and silverware must be processed properly by dipping them in boiling water before they are used. Separate sets of dishware and silverware must be used for meat and dairy and that dairy foods cannot be served at the same meal with meat.

As we enjoy our food, Fawkes has charmed our guests by perching on Minerva's chair and watching all of us in his sentient way. At random intervals, he trills a few notes and flies to another chair. He has pecked at Limnoreia's eyeglasses, examined the patterns on Madam Long's head scarf, and is now trying to persuade Jean to feed him bits of salmon by staring at her plate.

Jean gives in, being a soft touch for animals of any sort. Soon, Fawkes has eaten most of her fish. He repays her by nipping her ear and flying over to sit on an unlit torch where he can watch the proceedings.

"I never thought Professor Dumbledore would become a ghost," says Potter, shaking his head over his salad.

"I know what you mean," says Jean, shaking her head in time with Potter's. "I figured he'd go straight to Valhalla or wherever it is wizards end up. Then he'd start planning how to take over the part of it he really liked."

"Was he truly that ambitious?" Madam Long inquires.

"There is no doubt in my mind that Albus Dumbledore liked power, but wished that he did not," replies Minerva, thoughtfully. "He was capable of being manipulative and had his own ideas about how the world should be organized. With his magical abilities, he could have been a Dark Lord, had he chosen to be. He was revolted by the things true Dark Lords have done, which kept him from crossing that line. He did not resist the temptation to meddle and had the tendency to believe that between his power, intelligence, and age that he knew what was best for everyone."

"Those sound like reasons why a man might end up as a ghost," says Professor Franks. "He may not have tortured, murdered, or attempted to take over the world, but if he trespassed against others through his manipulations, he may need to atone before he can cross over."

"I believe that you are correct," I comment to Professor Franks. "If that is the case, why would he hide? Why not face the ones you have wronged and express your regrets?"

"Perhaps, because he doesn't actually regret what he has done?" replies Professor Franks, arching an eyebrow.

I let my breath out with a whoosh. I look around the table and my compatriots look as gobsmacked as I feel.

Minerva is nodding. Her expression is that of someone who has just gained a profound insight.

"You may have hit the nail on the head, Professor Franks," says Potter, carding his fingers through his hair. "It would make sense that he'd hide from us. It's not just that he'd be embarrassed that he's a ghost; it's that he has to make amends in some way before he can cross over. If he doesn't think he really did anything wrong…"

"So how do we help him?" asks Ellen, a forkful of salmon paused in midair.

"We'd have to find him first," mutters Jean.

"You may need to accept that you cannot help him," offers Madam Long. "In terms of spiritual growth, each of us must work out some things on our own. Deciding to change his perceptions about his own actions may be one of those things."

"Besides," says Limnoreia, "the man could be as thick as a plank when it came to properly assessing other people's character. Why would he be anymore insightful about his own?"

"Albus' bias against Slytherins is a good case in point," comments Jean, studying the carrot she is about to spear. "He mishandled any number of situations with Slytherin students that ended up practically throwing them into Voldemort's camp."

"Including you and me," I comment. "When I was nearly fed to a werewolf by Sirius Black, all he got was detention and I was ordered never to tell anyone. Even after your family was killed by Death Eaters, Albus did not want to admit you to the Order simply because you came out of Slytherin."

"If anything," says Potter, his voice strained, "Albus was pretty good at denying that he was wrong about his own choices and had plenty to say about the choices other people made."

"In a nutshell, Harry," says Ellen, sagely as she pours more tea.

"We'll just have to give Albus a golden opportunity to face his issues," says Jean, in a deceptively light tone. "One possibility is that he is hiding out in the Chamber of Secrets, even if we've thought that it was impossible for ghosts to get inside. Albus had six years after it was rediscovered to learn whatever he could about it. I wouldn't put it beyond the scope of his abilities to figure out how to get inside.

"Mike and I will be moving back to Hogwarts on August 1st," she continues. "When you're available, Harry, Severus and I would like you to open the Chamber for some exploration."

"You're going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, again?" asks Potter, grinning. "That's brilliant!"

"I can hardly wait," says Jean, grinning back. "I've had ten years to think about changes to the curriculum and whole new kinds of experiential exercises to make it a hands-on class. Between the changes that Professor Prince and Bill made, combined with what I have planned, we'll have Hogwarts back to offering a first rate Defense Against the Dark Arts program within a few years."

"Nothing would please me more," offers Minerva, primly. "Now that the curse is off the position, it will be possible to build the kind of program we have always needed."

"With Voldemort incarcerated," comments Professor Franks, "is there still so much concern about a threat?"

"There are still marked and unmarked Death Eaters out there," I state. "Voldemort had his sympathizers throughout our society. To say nothing about the tendency for aspiring Dark Lords to surface every decade or two. Hermione has commented that Defense Against the Dark Arts is not taught extensively in American wizarding schools, which I find surprising."

"The American educational system is organized a little differently than the European model," says Professor Franks. "Wizarding children generally attend public or private non-wizarding school from kindergarten through sixth grade. Seventh through twelfth grades are spent at wizarding schools. At St. Bridget's Academy, where I teach, Defense Against the Dark Arts is taught from seventh through tenth grade as a required course. After that, it is an elective and relatively few students enroll unless they are interested in magical law enforcement as a career.

"I guess that because we haven't had any Dark Lord incursions since Grindelwald made his move on Canada in the 1940s, it really hasn't been an educational priority," she finishes.

"You have been fortunate that the Atlantic Ocean has insulated North America from the actions of the European Dark Lords and the Pacific Ocean has protected you from those in the Far East," comments Minerva. "However, it is naïve to think that such things will not happen in the United States. Magical forms of transportation have improved so that we now have trans-Atlantic Portkeys. I can only think that you have been lucky that no Dark Lords have attempted to establish themselves on your continent."

"I agree that we have been lucky because we are a young country," says Professor Franks. "The last real contender we had for Dark Lord status was George Armstrong Custer. Fortunately, the Sioux Chiefs Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull did away with him at the Battle of Little Big Horn in 1876, stopping his rise to power. We haven't had that many wizards or witches with that kind of magical capability, outside of the Indian tribes."

"Why isn't Hermione here?" asks Potter, interrupting. "I thought she was planning to study how Dark Marks could be deactivated and come with us to Azkaban so she could see Happy-Sleepy at work on Voldemort."

"Molly had other plans for her," I reply. "The space in the garden was cleared for the gazebo. Molly has tasked Hermione and Miss Weasley with replanting the area so the plants will be established before the Claiming ceremony. Hermione decided that keeping peace at home was more important, at the moment."

Jean leans over and whispers something in Potter's ear. He nods and looks up at me.

I suspect Jean told him that with Lucius present, Hermione opted to be elsewhere. His behavior at the Weasley's during the contract negotiations was less intimidating than when we had dinner at the Malfoys, in spite of the shouting match between Arthur and Lucius. Still, Hermione is distinctly uncomfortable in his presence. Fortunately, we have worked out all of the details of the contract and further meetings are unnecessary.

"A Claiming ceremony?" asks Professor Franks, her face alight with curiosity.

"Our Professor Snape and Miss Granger are going to have a Claiming ceremony on August 7th," says Minerva.

"I wrote an article about wizarding courtship a while ago," says Professor Franks, looking at me. "I am particularly interested in the modern versions of Claiming. May I ask you a few questions about it later?"

There are times when I wonder if the Universe truly dislikes me. I hardly wish my personal life to be opened up for discussion. On the other hand, I am indebted to Professor Franks for releasing me from my bondage to the Dark Lord. This may be an issue where I should compromise. No doubt, Hermione would be willing to discuss the arrangements for the Claiming ceremony at length.

"Since you and Madam Long are staying at Hogwarts tonight," I reply, "Perhaps Hermione and I could see you tomorrow morning."

I did not say that I would answer any questions. I simply said that she could see both Hermione and me in the morning. Hermione is discreet and will say nothing that I would be uncomfortable with and I can avoid answering questions.

"That would be excellent," says Professor Franks, enthusiastically.

* * *

"So where were you this morning?" shouts Limnoreia, looking at Potter.

The boat ride between the shore and Azkaban is rough. Even though the sky displays only a smattering of clouds and no rain is evident, the strong wind and the sound of the waves slapping the side of the boat makes it difficult to talk over the noise of the North Sea.

I have made this trip before. It was after the Dark Lord fell the first time and anyone with a Dark Mark was shipped straight to Azkaban to be held for trial. Even with Albus Dumbledore to vouch for me, I was still sent.

My trip was made with my hands and feet bound in magical shackles. If I had resisted in any way, the guards could have simply tossed me overboard. After a few days in the presence of the Dementors, I remember wishing that I had jumped into the water and drowned.

Ellen's hand is on my shoulder. I turn and look at her, seeing an altogether too familiar look of compassion in her eyes.

"Your concern is unnecessary," I state, coldly.

"I know," says Ellen, serenely. "I admire you for being willing to return here after what you've been through."

"I…" Cannot think of what to say.

"I know," she says, understandingly.

I shrug and turn my attention back to the view of the island, growing larger on the horizon.

"Do you think that she'll be all right?" calls Jean to Potter.

"Slithers Swiftly Through Tall Grasses is a very determined Runespoor," shouts Potter in return. "She made it through the withdrawal from Happy-Sleepy and is determined to have a good life, by a Runespoor's definition. I promised her that if she survived going through withdrawal, I'd take her back to Burkina Faso and set her free. She wouldn't allow me to put a tracer spell on her so I could come back in a week and check to make sure she was doing all right."

"That is one determined snake," yells Limnoreia.

Madam Long is sitting towards the front of the boat. She is staring at the island ahead of us. I take a seat across from her. She looks pale.

"Are you all right, Madam Long?" I ask. "If you are seasick, I have potions with me that will help."

Madam Long's eyes turn briefly in my direction and then dart back towards the island.

"There are Dementors there," she says, sounding far away.

"No longer," I explain. "There were Dementors at Azkaban until a few years ago when they allied themselves with Voldemort and left."

"There are still Dementors on that island," she insists. "I can feel them."

I turn and call for Potter. He breaks off his conversation with Limnoreia and Jean and joins us at the bow.

"Do you know that there are Dementors on Azkaban?" I ask.

Potter looks at me with surprise.

"How did you know that?" he asks.

"I did not," I reply. "Madam Long can sense them."

Potter looks down at Madam Long.

"Why would you keep such things here unless you wish to torture the prisoners?" asks Madam Long.

"We don't keep them at Azkaban," says Potter. "They come back on their own and feed off the place until the guards drive them off. Unfortunately, there aren't a lot of guards who can do a good Patronus."

"Potter," I hiss, "has no one considered that Voldemort is at Azkaban and the Dementors are his allies?"

"We aren't profoundly stupid, Professor," hisses Potter right back at me. "Of course we know that. Voldemort's only been there a few weeks. The Dementors aren't here all the time. There are only two or three that show up at any given moment. According to the Warden, Voldemort doesn't behave any differently when the Dementors are flying around Azkaban. The Dementors haven't tried to get inside. We don't know what they're doing or why they're doing it.

"An expert from the Department of Mysteries says that he thinks that Dementors might be coming here to mate," says Potter, secretively. "He thinks the ones that were born here come back to spawn."

"Your so-called expert needs to study his Dementor-lore a bit more closely," says Madam Long. "Dementors aren't exactly born, nor do they lay eggs. Dementors don't even have a gender."

"Really?" I ask, fascinated. "How do you know this?"

"My culture has been around longer than yours," says Madam Long, with a sigh. "Our lore is older than yours."

"Tell me," I state, insisting.

"When Dementors are ready to reproduce," she explains, "they pair off. The mating pair must have consumed sufficient souls and emotions to do without sustenance for a time. They join at the chest and exchange DNA. At the point of joining, a bud forms. The mated pair remains together until the bud grows into a smaller version of the two parents. When it is capable of surviving on its own, the bud releases the parents and becomes a fully functioning Dementor. This process has not been observed from beginning to end, so it is not known how long it takes."

"So, if the Dementors were coming to Azkaban to mate," says Potter, making a mess of his hair with his fingers, "they'd be stuck together. So what the guards have been seeing aren't Dementors who have come back to spawn."

"Most definitely not," says Madam Long, dryly.

"Did the Dementors start coming back to Azkaban _before_ the Dark Lord took up residence, Potter?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says, confused. "We'll have to ask the Warden."

"This is most troubling," says Madam Long.

"I agree," says Potter.

* * *

We are looking at a room within a room. Jean said that the Department of Mysteries had duplicated the room we constructed in Chester's cellar down to the finest detail. I do believe the dead fly in the corner is a duplicate of the same dead fly in the corner at Chester's.

"We are certainly a strange looking group," says Professor Franks, looking around at all of us in our mirrored sunglasses. "Though I can certainly understand the necessity."

"We aren't taking any chances with Voldemort," says Warden Hensley. "Because of his skill at Legilimency, we don't want to risk him taking advantage of anyone. We don't know if the Happy-Sleepy potion took that away from him."

"One of the reasons we're here is to get a better sense of exactly what Happy-Sleepy has taken away from him," says Ellen, "along with learning what he is still capable of doing."

"Which is why Jean and I came along on this little field trip," comments Limnoreia. "We'll need to develop additional defenses if tall, pale, and snake-like can do any kind of magic in his current state."

Azkaban's Healer and I are standing directly in front of the window of Voldemort's cell. My former master is laying on his side on the bed, facing away from us.

"There are no less than two sets of eyes watching him at any moment," says Healer Mittleton. "He can't so much as have a wank without being seen, not that he has shown any interest in wanking."

"Has he tried to kill himself?" asks Madam Long, nonchalantly.

"Yes," replies Mittleton, blushing at having her hear what he thought was a conversation between two men. "He refuses to eat, which means we are spelling nutritional potions into his stomach. He attempted to put his head into the chamber pot, which is charmed to vanish its contents. We made certain that it recognizes anything that is not urine, feces, or vomit and leaves it intact."

"The whole cell and its contents are designed for suicide prevention," comments Warden Hensley. "Riddle has tried to unravel his blanket. I presume that was in an effort to make something to hang himself or strangle himself with. All fabrics in the cell and in his clothing are magically designed to prevent that. He tried to slam his head repeatedly against the stone floor, which has cushioning charms built in."

"He is trying to kill his shell so that he can escape in his core form," says Madam Long, nodding.

"We have been dealing with suicidal prisoners for a very long time and know how to prevent it," says the Healer. "There is little risk that he will find a way to damage himself beyond repair. The greater risk is that he will find a way to allow his medical conditions to kill him."

"We have three to five years," says Ellen, joining us. "That's my estimate, based on what we know now. We can keep the Lord Voldemort shell alive for that long. When Lord Voldemort dies, Tom Riddle will escape."

We move aside so that Professor Franks and Madam Long can peer in the window.

"So, this is the cause of so much suffering," murmurs Professor Franks.

Voldemort chooses that moment to sit up. He swings his legs and puts his stockinged feet onto the stone floor. Slowly, Voldemort raises his head and opens his red eyes. He is staring directly at Madam Long.

"I can feel the evil in this man from here," says Madam Long, coolly. She neither blanches nor turns away from Voldemort's intent stare.

"Even thought he cannot use magic, he still has magic" says Ellen. "That's why we wear the mirrored sunglasses so that he cannot touch our minds through our eyes."

"We are going to give him a higher than maintenance dose of Happy-Sleepy," says Healer Mittleton. "He'll fall asleep and then we'll evacuate the Happy-Sleepy out of the air in the cell. We should have about twenty-five minutes to conduct your analysis. Then, we'll have to leave the cell and give him a regular dose of Happy-Sleepy."

"Did he hear you say that?" asks Professor Franks, nodding towards Voldemort.

"No," says Healer Mittleton. "The only way he can hear us is if we take the sound baffling charms off of the window. I've never heard that he was a lip reader."

"As far as I know," I reply, my eyes riveted on Voldemort, "he does not have that skill."

Voldemort turns his head and looks at me. He smiles. It is the kind of smile I have seen on his face when he was preparing to torture a victim.

I do not change my facial expression in any way. We are in control, now.

* * *

The next several minutes are occupied with sending Voldemort off to dreamland and reinforcing the wards around the cell.

Four extra guards enter the room, giving us six Azkaban guards. The Warden and Healer are present. The Order's contingent consists of me, Potter, Jean, Limnoreia, and Ellen. Madam Long and Professor Franks are present to assess Voldemort's magical state and to see if they can give us any ideas about what keeps Tom Riddle's core being alive.

The room surrounding Voldemort's cell is crowded. The cell will be even more so.

Healer Mittleton is taking readings from the cell, which I double check. None of us wishes to end up accidentally addicted to Happy-Sleepy.

"The Happy-Sleepy potion has been removed from the air in the cell," he says. "Voldemort is sedated and his brain waves are in a delta pattern, indicating deep sleep. It should be safe for us to enter the cell."

"Will putting him in a Body Bind interfere with your assessment in any way?" I ask.

"It shouldn't," says Professor Franks. "A Body Bind is largely exterior magic and we can filter it out during our analysis." She looks at Madam Long. "Are you ready, Judith?"

"Yes, Julia," replies Madam Long, adjusting her headscarf. "All of my mental protections are in place."

"Then, let us proceed," says Professor Franks to the Warden.

A large clock on the wall outside the cell will tell us how much time we have before the sedative effect of the high dose of Happy-Sleepy wears off.

The Warden and Healer enter first, taking readings around the room. The Healer rearranges Voldemort's limp form on the cot. Pointing his wand, Healer Mittleton applies a mild Body Bind and Voldemort's limbs snap straight.

Potter and two of the guards go inside the cell and station themselves with wands pointed directly at Voldemort. They have instructions to stun him, if they see Voldemort so much as twitch a toe.

Madam Long, Professor Franks, and Ellen go inside and I bring up the rear. Jean and Limnoreia are going to watch through the window, along with the rest of the guards. If anything goes wrong, the cell can be flooded with a gaseous sleeping potion. We can be removed unconscious from the cell rather than risk Voldemort getting loose.

The three women are talking amongst themselves, as Ellen and Professor Franks begin taking readings of Voldemort's prone body.

How many times did I kneel at the feet of this monster? I have kissed the hem of his robe, his ring, and on one occasion I kissed his boots. If Madam Long and Professor Franks were successful this morning, I am no longer bound to this Dark creature. I permit myself a moment of elation that I may be able to leave the past behind.

The image of a wave pattern on a grid appears over Voldemort's body.

"This is Voldemort's brain wave pattern," explains Ellen. "If he shifts from delta to one of the lighter stages of sleep, we'll know." She points her wand to a spot against the window and the grid moves to where it can easily be seen by everyone.

Madam Long has taken her place at the head of the narrow bed. She holds her hands above Voldemort's head. If I could see through her mirrored glasses, I am certain I would see her eyes close. She takes a deep breath.

Ellen steps aside and Professor Franks moves her wand above Voldemort's torso. A glow of yellow light passes over him.

"Go ahead and start the Dictoquills," says Professor Franks.

The sound baffling spells have been replaced with sound enhancement spells. Jean orders the two Dictoquills set up in the outer room to begin keeping a record of everything that is said.

Professor Franks' wand moves rapidly as she recites the spells that will take her magic deeper and deeper inside Tom Riddle.

"There is the indication of unicorn blood," I state for the Dictoquill. "The readings start at 6 percent and drop down to 2 percent. He must have used it for years."

"Snake venoms are evident," says Ellen, examine the sigils forming above Voldemort's body. "Is that Nundu claw?" she asks, pointing.

"The readings are changing so rapidly, we will need to use a Pensieve to capture them accurately," I quietly recommend.

"Agreed," says Healer Mittleton.

I cannot wait to run a multiple regression analysis on this data. I will use Muggle statistical analysis to help identify the kinds of magic and potions that keep Tom Riddle alive.

Professor Franks pauses in her magical analysis.

"How are you doing, Judith?" she asks.

"I am fine," replies Madam Long. "Everything is stable."

"Shall we take it to the next level?" asks Professor Franks.

"I'm ready," says Madam Long.

Professor Franks is reciting spells so quickly, I can barely follow them. Numbers, sigils, and runes appear over Voldemort's body.

"There are indications of Dark magic, probably potions and charms used to retard the rate of cellular decay and mutation," says Ellen, pointing.

"He would never develop cancer, using these spells," whispers Healer Mittleton.

"Agreed," I reply. "As long as he kept consuming unicorn blood…"

In another minute, the second level analysis is complete.

"Ready for level three?" asks Professor Franks.

"I am not sensing anything out of order," says Madam Long, softly. "We can proceed."

Professor Franks' rapid fire wand movements and spell recitation begins again.

"This level should begin to tell us more about the core," says Ellen.

"Life forces from a variety of magical creatures were used to accomplish whatever he did to himself when he stabilized his internal structure," I remark, looking at the symbols appearing over Voldemort's body.

"What is the brain wave pattern showing?" asks Madam Long.

"He is still in steady delta," replies Ellen. "Are you picking up something?"

"I'm not certain," replies Madam Long. "His defenses are stronger at this level, but I would expect that even in an unconscious person. It is almost a disharmony."

"Should we stop?" asks Professor Franks.

"No," states Madam Long, shaking her head. "I would like to explore this further."

I look over at the clock.

"We have fourteen minutes left," I announce.

Professor Franks goes back to work.

Over the next six minutes, we see signs that Voldemort used at least six human sacrifices when creating his core.

"There are eight minutes left," says Potter.

"Do you think we can get another level done?" asks Madam Long.

"I think we should try," replies Professor Franks. "How tired are you?"

"I am holding up," states Madam Long, squaring her shoulders. "There are three and possibly four more levels to go. We will have to come back after we analyze what we have found to try and get to the others."

"We'll know what the upper level defenses are, which could make it go faster next time," says Professor Franks, sounding reassuring.

Madam Long readjusts her mirrored sunglasses and then rubs her hands together to sensitize them to the energies of Voldemort's body. She holds her hands above his face.

Professor Franks begins again. The glowing signs above Voldemort's body are increasingly alarming.

"Just how many people did he kill to make himself immortal?" asks Healer Mittleton, horrified. There are at least a dozen more, including children."

"We may be looking at the worst serial killer of all time," says Jean, her voice carrying in from the other room.

"This is the most appalling thing that I have ever seen," adds Limnoreia, her eyes wide with shock.

How was I taken in by this unholy creature? How many of his victims did he seduce into his service before he swallowed their lives? How many were tortured to death so he could have his twisted version of immortality?

"Professor Franks," says Ellen, alarmed. "I just saw a momentary change in the brainwave pattern. It shifted into alpha for an instant."

"We should begin our withdrawal," says Professor Franks, calmly. "How are you doing, Judith?"

Madam Long does not answer.

"Judith!" says Professor Franks, sharply.

Madam Long's hands are trembling.

"Break the contact," I urge her.

Professor Frank's wand is moving rapidly and she is reciting spell after spell to break the contact.

Ellen reaches high and holds her wand above Madam Long's head.

"We need to give her energy to help her break loose," calls out Ellen.

Potter and the guards move aside, keeping their wands trained on Voldemort. Limnoreia and Jean open the door so they can come into the cell.

"Warden," says Healer Mittleton, urgently, "You need to go outside of the cell and prepare to flood the room with the sleeping potion if we do not have this resolved in short order."

The guards look ready to panic.

Ellen and Professor Franks are casting spells as fast as they can.

"Potter, keep alert for anything you get from Voldemort," I shout over the din.

"I'm on it, sir," he shouts back. "We're ready for anything."

Healer Mittleton, Limnoreia, Jean, and I join hands and form a circle, enclosing Ellen and Madam Long in the center. Jean's hand clasps mine above Madam Long's hands. We do not dare put our hands between her hands and Voldemort's head until she is able to break the link.

"Are all of you ready?" asks Professor Franks.

"We are," calls out Jean.

Professor Franks begins to speak, slowly.

_Feel the energy of your heart and soul. It is the power of the light that resides within each of us. _

_Above your head, another light is forming. Within that light contains all of the love that our Creator holds for each of us. It is given to us freely, with all of the love of a parent for a most cherished child._

_I don't know the color of that light, but you do._

_When you allow that light to flow in through the crown of your head, it will bring with it all of the caring, all of the love, and all of the well-being our Creator wants for each of us._

_Allow it to flow into your mind, down through your neck and shoulders, and feel it spread throughout your body._

_If you will, share this light. Share this wonderful energy of love and healing by sending it out of your left hand into the right hand of the person next to you._

_As you feel the energy flowing out of your left hand, you will feel energy flowing into your right hand_

_This energy is given freely and is dedicated to the greatest and highest good that any of us can receive._

_Feel the energy flow in and prayerfully add your energy to it. Pass it on to the person next to you._

_Each of you will feel the energy flowing through you in a never ending circle._

_Each of you will add to that energy, freely. Each bit of energy you give will be replaced threefold by the energy flowing into you through the light of love coming to you from our Creator._

_Can you feel the energy building? Can you feel it flowing like a whirlwind of hope? A tornado of all that is Good?_

_We have one who is in dire need in the center of our circle. It is to Judith Long and to her best and highest good that we dedicate this energy. With the intent of healing and in the spirit of friendship…_

_RELEASE THE ENERGY TO JUDITH, NOW!_

There is a burst of light as bright as the sun as the energy pours out of us.

The light enfolds Madam Long.

It wraps around her in a golden glow, swirling around her.

Faster and faster. It whirls around her until she is blur at the center of the light.

With a sound that is somewhere between a whoosh and the chiming of bells, the light is absorbed into her skin.

For an instant, she glows with that golden light.

Her mirrored sunglasses clatter to the floor.

Madam Long's hands fall to her side and she collapses. Ellen catches her, with help from Limnoreia.

Voldemort opens his red eyes and screams.

We all fall in heaps to the floor.

* * *

Voldemort is still unconscious from the effects of the gaseous sleeping potion. Healer Mittleton is taking readings as he looks into the cell through the window. It appears that Voldemort's shell is unchanged.

Four guards stand in front of the cell, wands at the ready. There is Happy-Sleepy in the air of the sealed and warded cell.

I just gave Limnoreia and Jean the antidote to the sleeping potion. They are sitting drowsily on the floor, resting their backs against the cell wall. The antidote will take a few minutes to work and return them to their normal state of alertness.

Ellen is tending to Madam Long, who is doubled over with nausea. Potter brought down a Healer's case from Azkaban infirmary. The potions I brought for seasickness are not effective for nausea induced by overexposure to Dark Magic. I am rummaging through the case for anti-nausea potions. I pull out the one that Ellen asked for.

Professor Franks is on her knees next to Madam Long, holding her shoulders.

"Before you can give that to Judith, there are certain potions she can't take," says Professor Franks. "Are there any whole insects used in that?"

"Live whole flobberworms are required," I answer.

"It's against Judith's faith to ingest anything that uses ingredients that are alive when they are thrown into the pot," says Professor Franks, shaking her head.

I look into the case, find what I am looking for and pull out another vial.

"This one is entirely herbal," I explain.

"That should be fine," says Professor Franks.

"Madam Long," says Ellen, in her most professional tones. "I'm going to spell this directly into your stomach."

Madam Long nods, weakly.

Ellen casts the charm and the contents of the bottle disappear.

Warden Hensley is giving instructions to two guards, who dash from the room.

"I am sorry that we can't take down the anti-Apparition wards," says Warden Hensley. "I can't do that, not even if the Minister for Magic orders it."

"I know," says Ellen. "We'll need to take the boat back. A Portkey would be too rough on Madam Long."

Madam Long opens her eyes. With help from Ellen and Professor Franks, she sits up.

"I don't think I can deal with the waves and the boat, at the moment," she says, looking white with a tinge of green.

"If necessary," says Ellen, "I can charm you to sleep during the trip."

"Can you tell us what happened?" asks Professor Franks.

"He tried to possess me," says Madam Long, looking like she might be sick again. "He would have succeeded if all of you hadn't given me the power to push him back and break the connection."

"I'm so sorry," says Professor Franks, looking terribly distressed. "We knew that he had possessed people before, but I've never heard of anyone being able to do it while being in a verified state of unconsciousness."

She wraps her arms around Madam Long and draws her into a comforting embrace.

"Julia, it's not your fault that this beast is able to do impossible things," says Madam Long, resting her head on Professor Franks' shoulder. "There is more to it than that," she adds.

"What else?" asks Professor Franks.

"Whatever he is," she says, shuddering. "I honestly don't know what he is. I didn't think that anything alive could be so completely polluted with evil. It's beyond anything I've ever sensed before. Inferi are nothing compared to this. Dementors are angels of light by comparison.

"It almost consumed me," says Madam Long, taking a deep breath and calming herself. "You very nearly had a Dark Lord on your hands who would insist on Kosher food and that the Death Eaters start respecting the Sabbath."

"That might spoil the standard Dark Lord effect," quips Professor Franks, comfortingly.

"Now that I think of it," says Madam Long, shaking her head in exhaustion. "As strong as he was, there would have been nothing left of me in there to insist on anything."

Ellen and I look at each other in shock.

"Severus, what are we dealing with?" she asks. "This should have been impossible with all of the controls and protections we had in place."

"Even when Voldemort possessed Professor Quirrell," I reply, "Quirrell retained his own personality and controlled his own body most of the time."

Ellen's voice drops to a whisper.

"We saw so many murders and sacrifices in those readings," she says. "They were directly tied to Riddle's magical condition. What is he that he needed that?"

"I do not know."

With all of the things I have seen and done, I do not believe I have ever been quite so horrified. Horrified and afraid.

* * *

Author's notes:

Kashrut: Jewish dietary law

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Rinny08, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Rowaine, Makaem, HJGrangerRocks, Atreyu Abraxas Black, KellyRoxton, Lifeasanamazon, Dressagegrrl, Machshefa, Teddy240b, Darque Hart, Magicdaisy, HinataMorningstar, Gonnabefamous, Laurenke1, Oscarxena, MysticSong1978, Jade2099, KittyKat91419, , Blue Artemis, Lyndie578, Piirra, Mennie, Latinachikita, Sinkme, Mrsdan, MoreThanSirius, Snapeygirl, Dverducci, Graynavarre, Kirien, ShannonG, KimJo, MartyJeannine, o0morgana0o, Pickles87, Ebbe04, Seth7, Duj, Keske, Allison, Da-blksaiyangirl, Droxy, Traceyww, Jocemum, GLoW91, All-I-need, Koliber, Andi-Scribbles, RachL8, MollysSister, T Wrecks, Karla Manatee, Rhonda H, Notwritten, Kcole, Excessivelyperky, Celenamurdock, Missbluejuju, Fatalani-Zabini, Arsinoe de Blassenville, CharredQuill, She is brighter, Star F. Dragonwolfe, Mother of Tears, Legilimens31, Almond, Reader, Truly Amused, and Malfoy's Kitten.


	113. Chapter 113

None of this is actually owned by me.

Thank you to Julia for fitting this in during the very busy Christmas season. Thank you to others who know who they are for their input. The rest of you will find out who they are later.

* * *

July 20th, 1999  
Hermione

Madam Pince selects another book and hands it to me. I add it to the stack and float the seven selected books over to the conference room sized table that Minerva transfigured in the center of the library.

The room is quiet, except for the sound of pages turning and the scratch of quills against parchment as the readers take notes.

I was supposed to come to Hogwarts this morning so that Professor Franks could interview Severus and me about our Claiming. The events of yesterday changed all of that. We are trying to figure out what Tom Riddle turned himself into. There is no explanation as to how he obtained the kind of power that would allow him to attempt possessing Madam Long while unconscious. How do we kill something that could do such a thing?

I look around the room and see a researcher's dream team. Severus is here, thumbing through a book on magic requiring human sacrifice. Jean is sitting with Professor Franks, showing her a passage from a book on Dark rituals. Professor Franks has set aside her book on Dark contracts to read what Jean has just pointed out to her. Minerva is looking rather sickened as she reads a book about the uses of torture in enhancing magical energy. Bill is taking notes from a monograph on the uses of child sacrifice.

There are times when I cannot believe the things the wizarding world has considered worthy of exploration, followed by writing a book about it. Then again, I've heard of websites in the Muggle world where you can get the instructions to make a nuclear bomb. Maybe it's not so different, after all.

Madam Long gives me a kind smile as she takes another book from the stacks in the center of the table. Adjusting her reading glasses, she reads the name on the spine and opens it to the table of contents. Scribbling page numbers on her parchment, she turns pages and begins to read about mental disciplines used in possession.

Limnoreia has turned into the coordinator of research. When any member of the team finds something significant in their reading, Limnoreia magically copies the relevant pages and inserts them into an enormous three ring binder. She is making up her own table of contents and logging in each chapter or page submitted by topic and where it came from. In between, she is reading a book on Dark Arts spells used to summon demons.

There is a one of those huge blackboard stands on rollers behind her. The list of topics we are researching includes: Human Sacrifice, the use of children in Dark Magic, Possession, Dark Creatures, Ritual Torture, Ritual Bindings, Magic Originating in the Middle East, Legilimency and Age Extension.

We began this morning by discussing what happened to Madam Long yesterday at Azkaban. Ellen was here with us for that. We spent time in the Pensieve viewing her memories of the analysis of Tom Riddle's magical state. One of my jobs was to take notes of the symbols that appeared over Riddle's body as Professor Franks conducted the analysis.

Among Severus, Bill, Jean, Limnoreia, and me, we got the whole thing written out. Ellen took copies with her for her own analysis and to share with the staff Healer at Azkaban. Professor Franks and Madam Long each have their own copies.

The analysis was one of the most fascinating things I have ever seen. Professor Franks told me that she has a mastery in Charms. That doesn't begin to cover it. Bill and Professor Flitwick are both Charms Masters and neither of them can cast with the speed and precision of Professor Franks. She emphasized the necessity for speed to keep the magic in the subject from closing off or attacking back.

They were using advanced magic in the analysis. I made notes about the spells Professor Franks used and intend to research them when I get the opportunity. I miss the availability of my computer and American Wizards On-Line.

I have heard of groups of witches and wizards who could combine their magical energy to send it to another person. It is difficult to do and only highly skilled wizards with a tremendous amount of magical control can do it. More than one circle of wizards has gone up in smoke when they combusted in the process.

While Severus, Jean, and Limnoreia know and trust each other, adding Healer Mittleton to the circle was risky. If he had tried to hold back some of the energy or misdirect any of it, he could have killed all of them, including Ellen and Madam Long who were in the center of the circle.

It was an amazing thing to watch. Severus says that the technique requires a controller who guides the group through the mental imagery necessary to generate the energy. It looked to me like Professor Franks knew exactly what she was doing. When the circle started generating energy, I could see golden sparkles forming around them. They started to swirl and flowed clockwise faster and faster until Professor Franks told them to send the energy to Madam Long.

It was all golden light flowing into her and she says that it gave her the strength to push Voldemort out of her head before he could take over her body.

I asked why Voldemort didn't have his Death Eaters use circle magic to give him more magical power. Professor Franks said that the process requires pure and positive intentions or it fries the participants.

Severus said that he heard Voldemort had tried that before and failed during the first war, resulting in five dead Death Eaters. It posed a huge disincentive to try again in the future since Voldemort was in the center of the circle. He was badly burned, but managed to survive. Too bad. I wonder if some form of magical fire could kill him?

Probably not. Even Fiendfyre wouldn't kill his core.

I hope that I'll have the skill to participate in circle magic, someday. Professor Franks offered to include me when she does that training when we're back in Chicago. I want to participate and I suspect that Professor Franks has interesting friends.

This morning has been remarkable. I am honored and pleased to be included on the research team. Imagine what it would be like if we were working on a project to benefit humanity instead of trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort. Now that I think of it, killing Voldemort will benefit humanity. It would just be more fun to find the cure for Muggle forms of cancer.

I open a book about conjuring non-human entities and read.

* * *

"I see that Fawkes has decided to join us," says Severus, who is sitting across from me.

As if on cue, he perches on the back of Severus' chair and starts picking in his hair.

"It looks like you're being groomed," says Limnoreia, laughing.

"Do not be surprised if you are next," Severus retorts. "Fawkes is looking for a new familiar."

"That bird considers his human to be his familiar?" asks Bill, grinning as Fawkes flaps across the table and sticks his beak in Bill's red hair.

"Albus always said so," comments Minerva. "Hagrid says that Fawkes will choose his next human and bond with him or her at some point during the next six months."

"Did Hagrid say how that bonding occurs?" asks Bill.

Fawkes flies over and perches on my shoulder. It's rather disconcerting to have a bird the size of a small turkey standing on me. I'm rather listing to one side and Fawkes is liable to find himself falling off and sitting on Severus' lap.

I squeak as I feel my hair falling when one of my hair clips goes flying and hits Severus on the side of the head. Fawkes has just stuck his beak into the middle of my Gibson Girl hairstyle and is pulling it apart.

"What are you doing, you goofy bird?" I ask, scrambling to catch the other clip. Fawkes flaps and hits the side of my face with his wing before he flies off.

"Fawkes likes hair," says Minerva. "Albus bonded with Fawkes several years before I was a student at Hogwarts. He told me that when Fawkes bonded with him, he set his hair and beard on fire. Burned them down to a nice crispy ash."

I look at Fawkes in horror.

"In that case, I'd like to take a pass on consideration for Fawkes' next familiar," I announce.

"Albus said that only his hair and beard burned and that it didn't hurt him at all," continues Minerva, amused. "Fawkes reverted to a chick and climbed out of the ashes."

Fawkes takes off and sits on top of the open book Madam Long is reading. He is gazing at her with a look that I would describe as adoring.

"Do not set this book on fire, Fawkes," says Madam Long, leaning forward. Fawkes stretches his neck and pecks at her nose.

"I would say that Judith is a leading contender," says Professor Franks, with a chuckle. "He's given you a lot of attention."

"He's an interesting creature and obviously very intelligent," says Madam Long, teasing. "I'm not sure that I want to lose my hair in exchange for gaining such a fascinating familiar. However, if I did, I wouldn't have to wear a headscarf until my hair grew back. The law requires that a married woman cover her hair for modesty. If I'm bald, I might be exempt from that for a while. That could be an interesting experience, although my husband would be displeased. He doesn't think that a woman's hair is long enough unless she can sit on it. I'm sure my children would love Fawkes." Madam Long scratches Fawkes behind one of his tufted ears. He croons with delight.

"Did Albus grow his hair back naturally, or did he speed up the process?" asks Jean, resting her chin on her palm as she watches Fawkes.

"Albus said that he did not try charms or a potion for a month, because he did not want to interfere with the bonding," says Minerva. "He said that when he was in his forties he did not wear his hair or beard nearly as long as when we knew him and that it all grew back in two months."

"I wish Poppy had a photo of that," comments Bill. "Albus Dumbledore minus his hair and beard. We probably wouldn't recognize him."

Fawkes moves on to Limnoreia and starts rearranging her hair. Apparently, it tickles.

Retrieving my combs, I let them work their magic and put my hair back up.

"How is the search going for your new familiar?" Severus asks Jean.

"My new kitten will be ready to leave his mother in another week," she says, happily. "Half Siamese and half kneazle. You'll like Bucky. He's already showing a lot of personality."

"Being half kneazle, he certainly will," I assert. "Add Siamese to that and I'll bet he'll be an interesting cat. We'll have to get Bucky and Crookshanks together."

"I'm glad Draco stopped at the apartment building to fetch him on the way back from picking up Miss Pucey in Winnipeg," says Jean. "I bet he missed you."

"Cindy told Draco that he was mopey, but spent a lot of time with the ghost cats," I relate. "Warren and some of the other students have moved into the building so they can attend summer term at Avalon College. Two of the students have cats that Crookshanks knew from living in the dormitory, so he had company."

"It's not as good as having your own human around," says Jean, with an understanding nod."

"Good morning, everyone!" calls Remus from across the library. The door slams behind him. He must have been a little overenthusiastic in shutting it.

Remus positively strides into the middle of the library where we are all stationed around the conference room table. He looks so happy, he's giddy.

"How did it go?" asks Jean, smiling.

"It. Went. Great," says Remus, emphatically.

He comes around to my side of the table and pulls Jean to her feet. Hauling her back, he grabs her into a hug and using his werewolf's strength, whirls her off her feet. Jean is laughing.

Fawkes, who was beak-deep in Limnoreia's hair, flaps and takes off at rocket speed and whacks Remus right in the head.

"Whoa!" shouts Remus, stopping to put Jean down.

Fawkes settles on Jean's shoulder and squawks at Remus. I didn't know that a bird could glare, but that's exactly what Fawkes is doing.

"That's adorable," says Limnoreia, teasing. "He's protecting you from Remus."

"He doesn't need to," says Remus, apologetically. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

"Of course not," laughs Jean, while attempting to restrain Fawkes who is straining to peck Remus. "So did you get it?"

"I got it," boasts Remus, elated. "I start on Monday."

"Congratulations," says Minerva, looking very pleased.

"I can't thank you enough for the reference," says Remus to Minerva, beaming.

Remus must have got a job! I am so happy for him; I'd like to give him a big hug. Then again, Severus might not appreciate that and oversensitive Fawkes might flip out.

"Where are you going to work?" asks Severus.

"I'd tell you," says Remus, cheerily, "but then, I'd have to kill you."

Severus looks at Jean, amused.

"You can send my mail to the Department of Magical Weights and Measures," says Remus.

"Congratulations on your new job," says Madam Long, tilting her head and looking curious.

I wonder if Madam Long's intuition about magic has revealed Remus' not-so-secret secret.

"Thank you!" says Remus, enthusiastically. "I can't wait to start. This is a great job."

"What will you be doing?" I ask.

"Probably annoying me with visits to make certain that the scales in the Potions classroom are properly balanced," says Severus, in full snark.

"At least once a year," boasts Remus. "In between visits to aggravate Severus, I'll be doing the same kinds of things I did for the Order."

Which means he'll be co-ordinating intelligence reports and looking for trends in the use of Dark Magic.

"That's wonderful news!" I exclaim. "Tonks must be so pleased for you."

"She doesn't know," says Remus, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I stopped by the Auror's office and she was out on a call. I'll tell her tonight and we'll celebrate this weekend. Meanwhile, I'm here to help."

"That's good," says Limnoreia. "We need someone to start reading up on the kind of Dark Magic Riddle might have explored when he was in the Middle East during the 1950s."

"If Severus will loan me the translation charms," says Remus, confidently, "I'm ready to dig in."

Remus has the biggest smile on his face as he begins the kind of research that he will be able to do on a regular basis when he starts his new job as an Unspeakable.

* * *

Madam Long really likes the charmed ceiling in the Great Hall. Severus says that every time she comes in here, she stops and gazes at it.

"One of my first sights of the magical world was this ceiling," I tell her. "If I had any doubts that magic was real, this ceiling resolved them."

"When I return to Australia," says Madam Long, with a satisfied smile, "the first thing I will do is hug my family. The second will be to begin working on a quilt made with pieces of the sky."

"That will be beautiful," I reply. "I like the idea of sleeping beneath the blue and clouds. I'm going to research the ceiling spells to find out how the Founders did it. When I figure it out, would you like me to send you the instructions?"

"Please do," says Madam Long. "It would make a lovely ceiling for the living room. My husband has more conventional tastes than I do. I shall have to persuade him to try it."

We all take our seats around the table and boxed lunches appear before us. I break the seal on mine and open it. I smell tuna. There is a container with something creamy in it and a packet with toast. I think the other container has a cold rice salad with asparagus. I see some chocolate biscuits in here, too.

"Creamed tuna," says Madam Long, with a pleased look. "This is true comfort food."

"Is it okay if I give my report while we eat?" asks Harry. "I have to get back to London and change into dress uniform for the ceremony, this afternoon."

The Order of St. Hugh presentations are this afternoon at the Ministry. I brought my dress robes with me so I could change here and go with Severus. It will be our first outing in public. The Claiming ceremony isn't for another eighteen days. Narcissa and Molly sent out the invitations on Saturday. Severus and I expect to see the news make the gossip columns any day.

I open my packet of toast and spoon the creamed tuna over it. I give it a taste. Yummy. It's rather like Mum's tuna casserole, only with toast instead of noodles and it doesn't have cracker crumbs on top. I notice that Madam Long has set her toast aside and is eating the creamed tuna plain.

"The warden and his staff have been monitoring Voldemort to see if there is any sign of his magic returning, given what he tried yesterday," says Harry. "I just came back from watching him, myself. I didn't feel anything through my scar, but then it didn't tingle or hurt when he was trying to take over Madam Long.

"We did notice that three Dementors have been flying around the northern part of Azkaban Island," he continues. "We have no idea if that has any relationship to Voldemort's presence, but we don't want to take any chances. If he could reach out to Madam Long through their psychic connection during the magical analysis, he might be able to communicate with them in some way.

"Hermione," says Harry, turning towards me, "you and Draco are going to be contacted by Magical Law Enforcement to ask you to come to the island and demonstrate how your Patroni ate Dementors during the battle."

"We can demonstrate it, but won't be able to explain it to them," I state, just to clarify. "They'd have to talk to Professor Littlehorse. Draco and I are oath bound not to reveal what we've learned about Navajo tribal magic."

"I told the warden that," says Harry. "He still wants the two of you to come out. You know that you could probably get a lucrative Ministry contract for Dementor removal services."

"They really ought to request that Roger assess the situation," suggests Limnoreia. "Since the Navajo have a method of dealing with Dementors that works, they might want to contact the tribe for help."

Severus leans over and says "If you are asked, arrange the trip for a day and time that I can accompany you. You should see Riddle under the influence of Happy-Sleepy."

I nod in return.

"Anyway," continues Harry, "Now that we know that Voldemort can possess people if he can link with them, Azkaban is installing a two way mirror in his cell so that he can't see people who are monitoring him. Voldemort's cell will always be illuminated so that it is brighter in there than in the surrounding room. The Azkaban staff will be able to see him clearly, but he won't see them.

"The mirrored sunglasses are being changed to mirrored goggles so that Voldemort can't make eye contact by knocking off a guard's sunglasses. Voldemort is to be put in a Body Bind whenever anyone is going to enter the cell, even the Healer.

"MLE is convening a special task force to come up with recommendations for security around Voldemort. I suspect some of the people in this room will be asked to serve on it," says Harry, opening his lunch box.

"If they ask for recommendations," says Minerva, "I think that Severus, Bill, and Limnoreia should be asked."

"Chester Sommersby should certainly be requested," says Limnoreia. "He's an excellent generalist about many kinds of magic."

"I'll pass that on," says Harry, scooping his creamed tuna onto the toast. He looks down the table. "How are you feeling, Madam Long?"

"Much better than yesterday," she replies. "That was certainly a stressful experience, which I hope I will never repeat again."

There is a chorus of agreements. Having seen it in the Pensieve, I don't blame her.

"In case MLE wants to talk to you, how long will you be staying?" asks Harry.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow," replies Madam Long. "Healer Smith wants to do a final check before releasing me. I don't think that Voldemort left any nasty bits of his personality behind, but I'd rather be sure. I'm not sure that I have any other information to offer, at this point. I intend to do some research at home and talk to a few people I know who have specialized knowledge about mind work and possession."

Madam Long gazes at Harry, tilting her head to the side. She then turns to Professor Franks and they exchange a look.

"I understand that you had an injury that left a scar when Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a baby," says Professor Franks.

Harry nods. "It's the altogether too famous lightning bolt on my forehead," he says.

"Would you object to Madam Long and I taking a look at it?" asks Professor Franks. "There might be something significant to it and anything we can learn about Riddle might be helpful."

"I'll be busy the rest of today, but I can come back tomorrow," says Harry, looking down at his creamed tuna. "I like this," he says. "Is this a special Kosher recipe?"

Harry never likes discussions about his scar.

"It is Kosher," replies Madam Long, "but I don't think there is anything special about how it is made."

"After yesterday's lunch, I was curious about Kosher food," says Harry. "When we were done dealing with Voldemort trying to escape, I did a little reading. I can see why there would be rules about how animals can be slaughtered. The Kosher rules are intended to be merciful and to cause the animal the least amount of pain possible. I get that part.

"I understand why there were dietary laws prohibiting pork in ancient times," continues Harry, his brow furrowed. "If it wasn't cooked properly, eating it could give you a case of trichinosis. But that isn't nearly as much of a problem in modern times. Why are there still so many rules about what you can eat and how it is prepared?"

Madam Long looks at Harry thoughtfully.

"If you were told that you had to give up pork for the rest of your life, do you think that you could still have a long and happy life?" she asks.

"Well, sure," says Harry, with a wry shrug. "I'd really miss bacon and sausage, though. That temptation might be tough to resist."

"But, you could do it?" reiterates Madam Long.

"If I absolutely had to, I could," says Harry, firmly.

"Which is easier, being bad or being good?" asks Madam Long, seemingly changing the subject.

"I wish I could say that it was easier being good," says Harry.

"I can testify that at various times in his school career, Harry found the temptation to break rules impossible to resist," says Minerva, mischievously.

"It was in a good cause," says Harry, importantly. "The war started early for some of us."

I raise my hand, tentatively.

"Hermione?" questions Madam Long.

"C'mon Harry," I say, slyly. "It wasn't always for The Cause. Sometimes, we broke rules for the fun of it."

Severus raises his hand to his heart and schools his features to imitate shock.

That has everyone laughing.

"Okay," says Harry, smirking. "Sometimes I used my invisibility cloak to sneak into Hogsmeade for sweets."

"Which was easiest, the first or the third time you snuck into Hogsmeade?" asks Madam Long.

"We got better at it, the more times we did it," replies Harry.

"Which made it even more tempting," comments Madam Long. "To be an Orthodox Jew is both a challenge and a joy. The Ruler of the Universe has called upon us to lead a disciplined life in ordinary things so that we can have the discipline to achieve the loftier spiritual aspects of Judaism. There are great temptations in the world. If you can find the self-discipline to say _no_ to bacon, it will help you to say _no_ to other greater temptations. You will find that you can make difficult choices and do what is right, rather than what might be tempting.

"It is also important to understand that our dietary laws have the status of _Chok_ or unexplained decrees," adds Madam Long. "The Ruler of the Universe does not need to explain himself to us or set rules that make sense in a secular way. The reasons can be beyond our understanding and part of a larger picture than we can possibly comprehend with our limited perceptions.

"I am very grateful that chocolate is acceptable, because that is a temptation I would find hard to resist," says Madam Long with an emphatic crunch of a chocolate walnut biscuit.

* * *

"Are you sure that we can't sneak off to your quarters?" I ask Severus, lifting the long skirt of my dress as I precede him up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. "Ever since I visited your rooms when we treated you for Cruciatus, it's been one of my favorite fantasies right along with snogging you on Astronomy Tower."

"We may not be signing the Claiming contract until August 7th, but I feel obligated to follow the conditions listed," says Severus from behind me. "If we were in my quarters, we would be expected to have a chaperone present. I am, however, willing to indulge your Astronomy Tower fantasy."

I am going to have to pry Severus' fantasies out of him. Until then, at least he is willing to participate in some of mine.

"Your sense of honor in this business is going to drive me insane," I retort. "Between being hurt during the battle and being watched all the time since we've recovered, I've had to keep my hands to myself when they want to be all over you."

Severus stops. I stop and turn. He's smirking at me. Severus Snape just eats it up when I tell him that I want him.

"It is more than my sense of honor," replies Severus, raising an eyebrow. "We will be signing a magical contract. Any violation will be sensed by those who give magical blessing to our bracelets and we will have to explain. I have no desire to explain to Arthur Weasley that I was shagging his honorary daughter in my quarters."

"Chicago," I recite, breathily. "We can shag all we want when we're in Chicago. It isn't forbidden in the contract. You won't have to explain that to anybody."

"Narcissa and Molly were careful to give us a loophole," says Severus. "I am grateful, because a few years of celibacy while you work on your degree would be a temptation I do not think I could resist. We might end up married sooner than we want and not be able to live together."

I reach back and hold out my hand. Severus takes it and joins me at the top of the stairs. I push the door open and we step out into the air and bright sunlight.

The door closes behind us and Severus pulls me into his arms. My arms go up around his neck and I tip my head back so I can look into his eyes. The lines at the corners of his eyes are more pronounced than they were the first time I kissed him on New Year's Eve. We've been through so much in six months. A small acne scar that used to be just above the arch of his right eyebrow has disappeared, a small benefit to having his skin completely re-grown on his head.

I shudder for a moment as I think of how it must have been for him and how horrible it must have looked. His arms tighten around me.

"We are safe, now," he whispers. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I can look to the future and feel content."

"I understand," I say softly in return, running my thumb over the missing scar. "Your skin is so smooth. When we're in Chicago, I intend to take inventory of every square inch."

Severus is back to smirking. I think he likes that idea.

"If not for Molly's hovering when I was staying at headquarters, you would have had that opportunity already," says Severus, teasing.

He dips his head and I close my eyes. The kiss starts with a gentle nibble at the corner of my mouth. It moves gently across my lips and I pull him closer and open my mouth. Our tongues meet in the middle and we take turns exploring until he breaks the kiss to run a trail of kisses down my neck.

I'm breathless and I want so much more than I am going to get. I'm still going to take what I can. My right hand slides to the back of his head and I weave my fingers into his hair. No brewing today, so it isn't as oily as it can get. The feeling of his lips against my neck sends pulses down my spine. My left hand slides down his back across his right buttock and I squeeze and pull him closer.

Severus groans and acquiesces. I smile to myself. Being able to make Severus Snape groan with pleasure is real power.

I told Ginny that I thought Severus would let me grope him in private.

I shift my stance so that my hips are lined up with his. The only problem is he's so much taller than I am that if I move against him, my pelvis will be rubbing against the tops of his legs. That's not entirely satisfying, but he gets the message.

Until we are interrupted by a loud _squawk_.

"Damn that bird," mutters Severus into my shoulder.

"We are going to be the two most frustrated lovers on the planet," I reply with a long-suffering sigh.

Fawkes is sitting on the ledge of the shoulder high wall surrounding the top of the tower. He tilts his head as he looks at us.

"Go away, bird," orders Severus, in his sternest professor voice.

Fawkes does not comply.

"Maybe Fawkes is curious about the mating habits of humans," I mutter.

"I do not recall putting him on the list of acceptable chaperones," says Severus, aggravated.

"We could ignore him," I suggest, hopefully. "Maybe he'll go back to pestering Madam Long and Jean. He seems to like the two of them the best."

I don't know if Fawkes understands exactly what we were saying, but he is making it hard to ignore him as he flaps about noisily on the ledge.

"I hope he does not intend to follow us to the ceremony this afternoon," complains Severus as we walk over to the stone bench and sit down. "He literally will not stay out of people's hair and that is exceedingly annoying."

"Fawkes, you would not fit in with this event," I call over to him. He responds by fluffing his feathers and grooming himself with his beak. "This is a serious and public meeting. Pulling on people's hair is not appropriate."

"I think he is ignoring you," says Severus, putting his arm around my shoulder. I rest my head against him. "That bird will do exactly what he wants to no matter what we say. Rather like Dumbledore for that."

Fawkes perks up when he hears Dumbledore's name. He flaps again and flies off.

"I hope he does not think that Albus has returned," says Severus, raising an eyebrow. "I must remember to ask him to help with the search for Albus' ghost."

"I'd bet he's somewhere in the castle," I state with certainty. "My guess would be the Chamber of Secrets."

"Potter is going to help Jean and I get inside the chamber," comments Severus.

I turn to him, eagerly. "I want to go with you."

"It would not be safe," says Severus, shaking his head.

"You're being overprotective," I respond, assertively. "I can take care of myself."

"That is not it," replies Severus, negatively. "We have no idea what traps Salazar Slytherin may have left down there. Jean and I are going because we are of his House and it may be safer for us. Potter is going because he can speak Parseltongue, which got him inside the first time.

"Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were practically mortal enemies before all was said and done between them. I will not take the risk that Salazar left special traps just for Gryffindors."

"Wouldn't that keep Dumbledore out?" I ask.

"Not as a ghost," says Severus. "At least, I do not think so. Ghosts cannot be harmed by magic. Still, Salazar did something to the chamber so that the ghosts could not find it. None of us have any idea of what that magical barrier might be. If Albus worked it out, given his special knowledge as Headmaster of Hogwarts, he never told any of us."

"Drat," I reply in dismay. "At least he isn't up here spying on us. Fawkes is gone and I would like to go back to snogging before we are interrupted again or have to leave for the ceremony. And, if you don't find any traps in the Chamber, I would like to go."

"That is agreeable," says Severus, "as is the idea of returning to snogging. Before we do, we need to work out our plans for the next month. We have lunch at the Malfoys on the 24th to meet Samantha Pucey."

I do a quick mental inventory of scheduled events.

"I have the final fitting on my dress for the ceremony at Madam Malkins on August 2nd. At some point, we'll be going to Azkaban Island to turn the Patroni loose on the Dementors. The Claiming ceremony is on the 7th."

"On August 9th," says Severus, smiling as he wraps a strand of my hair around his fingers, "We will walk together down Diagon Alley and shop at Flourish and Botts, Quill and Scrolls, Slug and Jiggers, followed by dinner at The Enchanted Fork."

"That sounds lovely," I reply, dreamily. "A Monday is a good choice. We can help the wizarding world get over the shock that Hermione Granger is in love with Severus Snape on a day when Diagon Alley isn't crowded."

"The greater shock will be that such feelings are reciprocated," murmurs Severus into my ear. Followed by sucking on my earlobe.

I think that sound is me, moaning.

Severus wants us to walk together down Diagon Alley to acknowledge our courtship in public. That's a kind of a fantasy similar to my desire to snog here on the Tower.

"How soon can we escape to Chicago?" I ask, thinking of the nice big bed in my apartment.

"As your official intended, it would be appropriate for me to escort you back to Chicago," says Severus. "When do you need to return?"

"Classes start on Monday, August 30th," I reply. "I'd like to go back on Saturday, August 21st. That will give me time to get organized for the term. I need to see Gerhardt about my independent study project. If you could stay for at least that weekend, we could spend a considerable amount of time in bed."

Severus shifts a little. I wonder if his trousers are feeling a bit snug? I start to sneak my hand over in the general direction and he catches it before I can do any exploring.

"None of that," he says, turning my hand over and kissing the palm, which sends delighted shivers right up my arm. "We have to leave for the ceremony in ten minutes."

"What about Chicago?" I ask, in the spirit of compromise.

"I can make the appointment to meet Gerhardt for the following Monday or Tuesday," says Severus. "I need to see him about the class I will teach at Avalon during the summer term of 2000. I drafted the curriculum for the Dark Arts Potions Analysis class while I was recovering and must submit it for approval."

"I wish I was eligible to take the class," I comment. "I can't tell you how exciting it is that you will be teaching at Avalon. I really do think that you'll enjoy it."

"I am looking forward to the change," says Severus, thoughtfully. "Avalon has been trying to recruit me for the faculty since last summer. This experience will help me to decide."

"You are considering joining the teaching staff for the 2001 term?" I ask, hopefully.

"More likely 2002," he replies. "I have commitments to meet before I can leave. I have promised Minerva that I will give her two years before she has to find a new Assistant Headmaster, Potions Master and Head of House for Slytherin. Magical Law Enforcement has asked for my help in tracking down escaped or unidentified Death Eaters. The Department of Mysteries would also like my help in locating all of Voldemort's hideouts and then dismantling them."

"You'll be busy," I comment, regretfully. "So much for hoping that we could have any significant amount of time together when both of our schools are in session."

"We will both be busy," he says, his magnificent nose nuzzling my hair. "However, we have the Christmas holidays, Easter, and summer. I believe I shall feel the need to spend time with my intended away from Hogwarts. Starting with August 21st."

"We'll make time," I whisper, promising myself.

I wiggle a little closer to Severus, which he takes as a signal to resume kissing.

Which is promptly interrupted by a giant ticking silver crocodile.

"_We're getting ready to leave, if you two can come up for air long enough to collect your medals,"_ says a voice that sounds like Jean's.

We break apart with mutual sighs of frustration.

"August 21st?" asks Severus, smoothing out his dress robes.

"August 21st," I confirm, putting the magical combs back in my hair.

"You do have that lacy nightgown?" says Severus, dropping his voice a full octave and giving me those shivers of anticipation.

"I have that one and a few others that I've purchased since," I reply, running my hand down his arm.

"I will enjoy seeing you in them," he says, bending down for one more kiss. He stops just short of my lips. "Right until I take them off you."

"Oh, yes," I sigh as our lips meet.

"_SNAPE!_" yells Jeans voice.

* * *

Madam Bones looks dignified in her formal robes. She is wearing dark sapphire blue. She also has one of the tallest witches' hats I've ever seen. The top is a perfect upside down cone with a point so sharp, she could put someone's eye out with it if she bent over too fast.

The atrium inside the Ministry is lined with chairs, fanning out from the dais. The front rows of the center section are reserved for the Order of St. Hugh recipients. The center section is flanked on either side by two other sections. The front rows of both of those sections are reserved for the families who will receive the posthumous Orders of St. Hugh on behalf of their family members killed during the battle.

Right now, Arthur is sitting in that section with Molly. After Minister Bones presents Ron's medal to them, Arthur will take his seat in between Tonks and me. We are seated according to first, second, and third classes, and then by alphabetical order.

Which means that Severus is seated in between Draco and Chester, instead of sitting next to me.

Mr. Schuler and Roger Littlehorse are sitting in the front row, as the prospective recipients of the Order of Merlin, First Class.

I'm really happy that Anita and Adam are here with Mrs. Schuler to see Mr. Schuler get his medal. When we all met in the atrium, Mr. Schuler actually made Severus laugh out loud when he commented that the Ministry was only giving him the medal because they couldn't figure out how to give it directly to his money.

Limnoreia has something special planned for her celebration with Roger. In the months I've known her, I've learned something about her. She tends to dress rather plainly and even her dress robes reflect that. But, beneath her robes she has the most elegant and sensual lingerie imaginable. Like the rest of us from the Order, she is wearing black robes out of respect for the members of the Order that we lost. Underneath is something else, entirely.

Ron's name will be coming up soon. Samantha Pucey just got up and is walking with Narcissa to the dais to accept her Adrian's medal.

Draco says that the visit has gone well and that Samantha has decided to stay with the Malfoys. A hearing is being scheduled before the Department of Children and Family Services so that she can be legally adopted by the Malfoys. Given that the Puceys magically severed their ties to their son and daughter when they ran away to keep from being handed over to Voldemort, they are not permitted to testify to influence the outcome.

Narcissa is in seventh heaven at the idea of having a teenage daughter. Samantha will be a fourth year when she attends Hogwarts in the autumn. A fourth year with a fabulous wardrobe.

I wonder if the charm that turns all Malfoy babies hair platinum blonde will work with an adoption? Samantha's hair is sandy colored, like Adrian's.

Draco says that Samantha is unsure of herself around his father. I can relate to that.

He says that Samantha knows that Lucius was a Death Eater. Even if he changed sides the last six months of the war, she's not sure if she can trust him. I can relate to that.

I wonder what it will be like for her, living with the Malfoys?

Samantha and Narcissa return to their seats. Minister Bones calls Madam Shacklebolt and her three children up to the dais.

Looking at the program, I see that there are two more recipients to honor before Ron's name will be called.

So many images play out in my mind.

_Ron, clinging to the back of the giant knight chess piece._

_Standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching and gaping as Victor approaches to escort me to the Yule ball._

_Quidditch robes streaming behind him as he takes a victory lap with Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team when they beat Slytherin during sixth year._

_Tossing gnomes out of his mother's green bean plants._

_Looking at me shyly with a bouquet of daisies clutched in his hand. _

_Foolishly eating the piece of toffee that Fred handed him and turning into a giant chicken. _

_His feet sticking out from beneath the invisibility cloak when he got too tall to hide under it with us._

_Protecting Harry's back and dueling with Avery in the Department of Mysteries._

_Grinning at me over a plate of potatoes._

"Ronald Bilius Weasley served as an Apprentice Auror and fell during the invasion of Malfoy Manor," announces Madam Bones "It is my honor to present this Order of St. Hugh, First Class, to his parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, on behalf of a grateful nation."

I raise my head and look up. Molly, dressed in black, accepts the case holding the medal. Arthur shakes Madam Bones' hand and puts his arm around Molly as they walk to the edge of the dais to return to their seats. I can hear the distinctive sound of Ginny sniffling from that side of the aisle.

The handkerchief with _SS_ embroidered in the corner is crushed between my fingers. I release my fingers and use it to wipe my eyes.

I miss him. Ron could be the most annoying human being on the face of the earth. He blurted out whatever was on his mind, never studied anything seriously that wasn't Quidditch, chess, or food. He could get offended by the most idiotic things and he took out his temper out on us. He was also the first one to step between his friends and a threat.

Arthur is taking the seat next to me. I reach over and take his hand. He turns to me and I can see unshed tears in his eyes. He blinks and looks straight ahead, collecting himself for the next round of awards.

The last of the awards has been made for the Order members we lost. There was no applause as each of the families came forward, but now that it is complete, everyone is on their feet. The sound of a thousand hands clapping rolls across the atrium and echoes back until it sounds like all of wizarding Britain is here with us.

They should be. Ron, Kingsley, Adrian, Madam Hooch, Oliver, Mad-Eye Moody and all the others died so that we could live free of the threat of the demented Lord Voldemort.

The Orders of Merlin are next to be awarded. Madam Bones launches into another speech.

Roger looks properly eccentric with his long black braid down his back. He is wearing a loose fitting beaded leather shirt, form-fitting trousers, and moccasins. With his high cheekbones, almond eyes, great nose, and dark complexion, he looks like he stepped out of legend. He carries himself with dignity and is as graceful as a cat.

He reminds me of Severus.

Just as alien in this crowd of robes, Daniel Schuler steps forward in his gray business suit. His horn rim eyeglasses, short neat haircut, white shirt and power tie, he looks like a banker or an insurance agent. I wonder if he has a pocket protector beneath his jacket? To look at him, no one would know that he is wizard. According to Anita, he is very nearly a squib except for his genius in Arithmancy.

Here he is, receiving an Order of Merlin, First Class. He provided the resources that made the difference in getting Happy-Sleepy done in time for the battle. I still feel badly for Remus that the real problem was having a werewolf do some of the Transfiguration work. If Mr. Schuler hadn't figured that out, we wouldn't have finished Happy-Sleepy in time.

Anita, Adam, and Mrs. Schuler are here along with the standard entourage of Digital Magic security agents. Rita Skeeter was trying like mad to get an interview with them before the ceremony. Keiko and Bill wouldn't let her get near them.

When the Orders of Merlin are done, the Third Class recipients of the Order of St. Hugh will be next.

Mike Lamb is going up now. There is a bidding war going on between the twins and Lucius Malfoy for the BludgeSucker. Rumor has it that Magical Law Enforcement has already bought the rights to the BludgeHammer. The Mike Lamb/Mark Smith partnership is going to make a fortune.

It's Remus' turn. He's wearing new brown dress robes. I've never seen him wearing anything new before. As far as we know, he's the first werewolf to receive the Order of St. Hugh or any Ministry Order at all. Harry and I agree that if they had decided to give us Orders of Merlin, they wouldn't have given him one. The Order of St. Hugh is considered a lesser award and none have been given since the 1930s. They dusted it off to give it to us.

We didn't do this for the sake of awards, so that doesn't really matter. We know that the Ministry didn't want to give us any recognition since they were furious about us capturing Voldemort behind their backs. The selection of the Order of St. Hugh was intended to be a slap to the Order of the Phoenix that might not be recognized as such by the general wizarding population. A medal is a medal is a medal.

Giving the same medal to a werewolf is supposed to be another insult.

We don't think so, but they don't get it. He's our werewolf. He has a job at the Department of Mysteries. I bet he's going to marry our Tonks, too. We are striking a blow for the equality of werewolves in wizarding society.

Lucius Malfoy is next. He is dressed in solid black, like the Order members. I don't know that he bought his Order of St. Hugh, Third Class. His influence certainly helped him to get it. I hope his expressed intentions to remake his life and image are sincere. Draco and Narcissa deserve better than to have him backslide into the old ways. Samantha has been through too much to be disappointed by another parent.

Minerva is going up to receive her medal. Her green hat is a bit askew. The way Chester Sommersby is looking at her, I don't think that matters to him.

Madam Bones just called for Fred to come up.

That's not Fred. That's George. He just accepted Fred's medal.

That's not George. That's Fred. He just accepted George's medal.

There's laughter in the audience from a few select people who can tell them apart.

Oops. I hear Madam Bones announce my name. I rise and cast a quick glance at Severus, who is watching me. He smiles with his eyes.

Madam Bones continues talking as I walk up the stairs of the dais.

"Hermione Granger is recognized for her contribution to the capture of Lord Voldemort by proposing the original idea for the Happy-Sleepy potion and helping with its development. Miss Granger also participated in the Battle of Malfoy Manor where she used her exceptional Patronus to destroy Dementors who came at the summons of Lord Voldemort."

Madam Bones and I are the same height. Her eyes are a faded blue and she has a small mole on her right cheek. Her assistant holds open the medal's presentation case. Madam Bones lifts up the medal. I dip my head and Madam Bones places the ribbon around my neck.

"Thank you for your service to wizarding Britain, Miss Granger," she says, graciously.

"Thank you, Minister Bones," I reply.

I turn and look out over the room. Harry is grinning. Roger is looking at Limnoreia, who is sitting next to my empty seat. Molly is beaming up at me, another one of her children recognized. Ginny is sitting next to her and gives me a thumbs up. Mr. Schuler offers an encouraging smile.

Severus. My beloved Severus. He is sitting so very tall and dignified.

Our eyes meet for a moment and we connect.

I love you.

He shifts in his seat, almost imperceptively. I walk down the stairs and take my seat.

Right. No recognizable public displays of affection.

I'll save it for a private moment.

I return to my seat next to Arthur.

Limnoreia is walking up the dais. I catch the slightest glimpse of her ankle as she starts up the stairs. She is wearing her basic black robes with a pair of what Jean calls "fuck me" shoes with four inch stiletto heels that require magic to keep her balanced so she doesn't twist an ankle or land on her arse. They go well with the sheer black silk stockings with the seams up the back, held up by the garters that go with the orange satin bustier with the black lace trim and the lacy orange knickers. When we were getting dressed in what will be Jean's new quarters, Limnoreia decided to flash us and practically had us rolling on the floor laughing.

Roger is going to be in for a surprise at some point tonight.

Limnoreia promised to loan Jean and me the catalog. I'm thinking something in green satin would do nicely.

Draco is wearing black, too. He is really mourning Adrian Pucey. They were good friends and Draco is determined to be a good brother to Samantha. His white blonde hair shines in the torchlight as he bows low enough for Madam Bones to place the ribbon around his neck.

Madam Bones has just called Severus. He stands and his black robes billow about him as he walks towards the dais.

He is very much my Potions Master, with one significant change. His hair is clean and dandruff-free, thanks to the shampoo and conditioner my interdisciplinary team developed. His black hair gleams with blue highlights.

Other than that, he is wearing his usual black frock coat and trousers with all of the buttons at his wrists and ankles. His dragonhide boots have a fresh polish to them.

My Severus is well-named. He looks severe. A lot of his image is intended to project confidence and competence.

He doesn't want anyone, even me, to know how terribly vulnerable he is.

He was rejected so many times when he was young. He lost his parents and had no one who really gave a damn, except Lucius Malfoy. The Marauders persecuted him. Lucius Malfoy and his dark friends recruited him as a Death Eater. He did awful things, changed his mind about what he really wanted from life and was recruited by Albus Dumbledore. Severus became a teacher to students who still remembered him when he was Snivellus. He learned to demand respect from the students through his terrible sarcasm and fear. They complied, but a lot of them never respected him.

Now, they can know what he was really doing. Madam Bones is talking about spying, trying to undermine Lord Voldemort, and saving lives in the process. Developing the Happy-Sleepy potion. Fighting in the Battle of Malfoy Manor.

No one has a stronger resume than Severus. Those are the things that can vindicate him in the eyes of a society that has never understood Severus Snape.

Madam Bones doesn't really understand the part about teaching Potions, protecting Harry Potter and his friends, all while trying to guide his Slytherins through the politics of House, Hogwarts, and wizarding Britain.

He was so terribly lonely the whole time. He doesn't say it, but I know how isolated he felt.

Not any more. Never again. I'll always be here. Whenever you need me and even when you don't. There will always be one place where you belong, where love doesn't have conditions attached to it.

With me.

Severus bows his head so Madam Bones can put the ribbon around his neck.

I want to stand and applaud. I want burst into tears.

I can't do any of those things right now.

Severus looks towards me as he walks down the dais. I hope that everything I feel for him is in my eyes.

I sit quietly in my seat with my hands folded on my lap while Severus resumes his chair.

The rest of the Second Class awards speed by. My mind is on Severus. Bits and pieces of the rest of the ceremony catch my attention.

Chester Sommersby looks ancient, but Minerva has just a hint of a smile as she watches him walk up the stairs. Bill's shark's tooth earring sets just the right humorous balance to his formal robes.

The First Class awards begin.

Jean is next. Madam Bones talks about how she used the BludgeHammer in battle to take out Death Eaters. She can't talk about Jean's discovery of the pattern of missing women that helped us to figure out what Voldemort was looking for. Even though Jean is returning to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, she'll still be an Unspeakable.

My mind wanders again.

Harry is up there in his Auror's dress uniform, looking so handsome. Nymphadora's hair stays brown during the presentation and turns bright pink as soon as she sits down. Arthur's comb over is slightly askew when he straightens after receiving his medal.

Ellen, who saved so many lives on the battlefield and who is working so hard to figure out how to keep the Lord Voldemort shell alive so that we can discover a way to kill Tom Riddle inside. She always looks like the self-confident professional woman that she is. Of all of the people who got a First Class award, we all agree that she's the one who most earned it. I get to call her a friend.

I get to call all of them my friends.

All of the medals are awarded. Madam Bones makes closing remarks about thanking those who stood together against Lord Voldemort and brought him down.

We stand and receive the applause of the hundreds of witches and wizards in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

Author's notes

**Order of St. Hugh, First Class Recipients, Posthumous  
**Joshua Bailey  
Leta Burns  
Dermott Campbell  
Albus Dumbledore  
Timothy Edwards  
Charles Goodwin  
Alexis Green  
Rolanda Hooch  
Cassandra Miller  
Alastor Moody  
Samantha Moore  
Adrian Pucey  
Kingsley Shacklebolt  
Maxwell Turnbull  
Andrew Watson  
Ronald Weasley  
Smithby Wilkinson  
Oliver Wood

**Order of St. Hugh, First Class Recipients  
**Jean Lamb  
Harry Potter  
Ellen Smith  
Nymphadora Tonks  
Arthur Weasley

**Order of St. Hugh, Second Class Recipients  
**Hermione Granger  
Limnoreia Lovegood  
Draco Malfoy  
Severus Snape  
Chester Sommersby  
Bill Weasley

**Order of St. Hugh, Third Class Recipients  
**Cyrus Doolittle  
Mike Lamb  
Remus Lupin  
Lucius Malfoy  
Minerva McGonagall  
Mark Smith  
Imogene Tealsworth  
Charlie Weasley  
Fred Weasley  
George Weasley

**Order of Merlin, First Class Recipients  
**Roger Littlehorse  
Daniel Schuler

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	114. Chapter 114

Don't own it, probably never will.

Many thanks to Julia for her input into this chapter. Thank you to all of the others who have helped.

Katyes has translated 103 chapters of _Looking for Magic_ into German. That is a huge job!

* * *

August 2nd, 1999  
Hermione

I turn around and Madam Malkin's assistant levels the hem of my dress. Attitudes in wizarding society may still be somewhere around 1890, but I have to say that there are times when the clothes are glorious.

My dress is pale green silk. I most certainly did not select that color because of Severus' status as Head of House for Slytherin. The business of holding onto House colors after completing ones Hogwarts education is silly.

It is the color of new shoots of grass in spring. The full skirt requires three crinolines so that it can rustle and swish properly across the floor. Since it is summer, the sleeves are puffed and extend to my elbow instead of all the way to the wrist. The waist is fitted and in the Muggle world, a corset would be needed to nip in the waist, push up the breasts and keep the lines smooth. In the wizarding world, charms are built right into the dress to accomplish the same thing and still be comfortable. Breathing is a good thing.

It has a simple scoop neckline with an ivory lace collar and ribbons at the shoulders. Cleavage wouldn't be considered appropriate for a Claiming ceremony, since I am supposed to be modest. I'll wear my mother's pearl necklace, earrings, and ring with it.

I'm dead grateful that the wizarding world has dispensed with bustles. How in the world did women ever sit in those things? No wonder they wore corsets. They needed the back support since they could never lean against the back of the chair.

Molly's dress is turquoise silk. She wanted something more colorful, but when she saw the lavender silk dress Narcissa is going to wear, she decided to go with something more restrained.

Ginny looks pretty in her buttercup yellow silk dress. She decided to stick with the Regency style. Being taller and thinner than I am, she carries it off better. She looks utterly feminine and graceful in it.

I am so glad that Molly and Ginny agreed to accept the dresses as my birthday gifts to them. Ginny's birthday is August 11th, so the timing is perfect. Molly's is October 30th. It stretches it a little, but she doesn't want to look shabby next to Narcissa.

We're having a girl's morning out. Narcissa and Samantha came over to the Burrow and had breakfast with us. We had croissants, pain-au-chocolat, and strawberries. I got to be waited on, which is a real treat.

We flooed to Diagon Alley and started by going to Witchy Woman's Day Spa to have manicures and our hair done. I had a manicure before when Anita and I went to a spa in Chicago, but it was a new experience for Molly, Ginny, and Samantha. After we had the manicures, Narcissa treated all of us to massages. By the time the masseuse was done, I felt absolutely boneless and relaxed. It was heavenly.

We all had our hair done. All I needed was a trim, but it always feels so luxurious to have someone else wash it. While we were there, the hairstylist complimented each of us on the excellent condition of our hair. Narcissa pointed out that it was because of the shampoo and conditioner I helped to invent. I now have the day spa owner's business card with instructions to have someone from Mystic Visions contact her about placing an order.

Molly purchased a set of the enchanted combs so that she can wear her thick red hair up in different styles. I found some combs with faux pearls on them that will go perfectly with the pearls I'll be wearing on the day of the ceremony. I like my Gibson Girl hairstyle. It is practical, becoming, and easy with the enchanted combs doing the work of getting my bushy hair into place.

Looking in the mirror, I turn this way and that so I can see the back of my dress.

"You really look pretty in that color," says Samantha, smoothing the skirt of her own soft pink dress.

"Thank you," I reply, happily. "You look good in pink, especially with your dark blonde hair."

"I've never been to a party like this," says Samantha, twirling so that her skirt flairs out.

"Neither have I," I reply, confidentially.

"Will there be dancing?" she asks, worriedly. "I don't know how to dance."

"Yes, there will be dancing," says Narcissa, coming up behind Samantha. "Tomorrow, you and I will be practicing waltzing, the two-step and the polka. It will be fun and you will be all ready."

The polka?

Molly and Arthur arranged for the musicians. They are friends of Arthur's who work at the Ministry.

Severus and I are going to have to dance a polka?

_Must. Not. Giggle._

Lucius Malfoy does the polka? Draco does the polka?

Ginny's shoulders are shaking. I don't dare look at her. We'll both lose it if we make eye contact.

Not to downgrade a good polka.

"_Roll out the barrel_," starts Ginny, her voice quavering as she tries not to laugh.

I have to join in.

"_We'll have a barrel of fun_," we both sing.

Molly joins in, which is a good thing because I don't know the rest of the words.

"_Roll out the barrel, we've got the blues on the run."_

Madam Malkin and her shop assistant start to hum along with us.

"_Zing, boom, tararrel, sing out a song of good cheer.  
Now's the time to roll the barrel, for the gang's all here!"_

Narcissa is looking at us like we've all lost our minds. She might be right. This tendency to burst into song at odd moments is rather peculiar. It must be the stress.

"Do you really think that particular song will be on the play list?" she asks carefully, in her cultured tones.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," declares Molly, adjusting the neckline of her dress. "It's Arthur's favorite polka."

"Will there be an accordion player?" asks Samantha, looking curious. "I saw one once on Diagon Alley and it was fun. He had a monkey."

"I don't believe that Wilbur has a monkey, but he does play a mean accordion," replies Molly, confidently. "The music will be a real toe tapper."

How do I break it to Severus that there will be at least one accordion player and The Beer Barrel Polka at what is essentially our engagement party? Along with the lack of bustles, I'm dead grateful that there is no sort of procession during a Claiming Ceremony. I'm not certain I could make it down the aisle to a tune played on an accordion.

"I am sure everyone will have a good time," I murmur, diplomatically. Narcissa's bewildered eyes meet mine. I smile at her, encouragingly. She's been such a good sport all along. I hope this isn't the test that drives her over the edge.

She wouldn't be the first person driven over the edge by the sound of an accordion.

* * *

Severus

"I need you to come with me," says Jean, standing at the doorway of the Potions storage room. She is frowning.

"Why?" I ask, teasing. "Has Bucky had another encounter with Mrs. Norris and you need help in hiding the remains before Argus finds out?"

"I wish it were that simple," replies Jean, her hands on her hips. "I don't think I can explain this until you see it for yourself."

Jean has been finishing some of her assignments as an Unspeakable while trying to organize the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and reading materials in preparation for next term. Between that, moving back into Hogwarts and dealing with a kitten that is half Kneazle and half Siamese, Jean has had her hands full. Nine week old Bucky has already met Mrs. Norris.

Mrs. Norris got the worst of it and ran away yowling.

I rather like Bucky. Fifty percent Siamese and fifty percent Kneazle equals one hundred percent attitude. If cats were sorted, she would be in Slytherin.

"Very well," I reply, putting the jar of preserved tapeworms back on the shelf. "I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Stock-taking can wait until tomorrow."

"This won't take more than a few hours," she replies. "You'll have plenty of time to meet Hermione and the others before they leave for Azkaban."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"France," she replies, tersely.

Jean hands me a sock and we each take an end. I have that familiar pulling sensation and then everything is a whirl. Our landing is rougher than usual, probably due to trying to avoid landing on one of the cherub topped tombstones.

"A cemetery?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

We are at the edge of what looks like an old cemetery. The land is overcrowded with ornate monuments, mausoleums, stone slab covered graves, and engraved tablets. It is situated on a hill, overlooking a scenic landscape of rolling hills containing the city below. It is a shame that the dead cannot appreciate the beauty.

"We are in Nice," says Jean, brushing off her slacks. "This is the wizarding section of the Geraut Cemetery."

"Please tell me that Albus has not turned up here," I implore.

"No," laughs Jean. "We are going to pay our respects to someone else."

Jean leads as we make our way down a path lined with mausoleums and tiered crypts. There are slabs of marble and granite, side by side. This city of the dead must hold thousands.

We climb up to a higher terrace. I am impressed by the artistry of the statues. There are angels and stylized mourners in marble and bronze standing or reclining on the grave covers. Mausoleums are capped with crosses. Alcoves hold bronze and stone plates, listing names and dates of individual family members entombed together. Photos of the inhabitants of some graves are affixed to the gravestones. Flowers are everywhere.

We climb up flights of stairs towards the top of the hill. Jean takes a turn to the north and we come to an area enclosed by high walls and tall trees, following the path inside.

I am immediately drawn to one of tallest monuments. It is a larger than life sized marble woman, gowned in Grecian style. She stands proudly on a tall pedestal. Her head is raised and she appears to gaze off towards the horizon. Her wavy hair falls loose with some of the strands resting on the wings sprouting from her shoulders. Her wings are extended as if she is preparing to take flight. In her left hand is a flower, held out as if it is an offering. In her right hand is a sword, extended and ready to strike.

She is the very image of an avenging angel.

Ima LeDrox.

I do not need to read the name on the pedestal to know who it is. Whoever carved the statue captured the grace of her form and the details of her features perfectly.

She makes an exquisite statue.

"How?" I ask, unable to tear my eyes away.

"The Ministry took charge of the bodies of the Death Eaters," says Jean, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. "According to their records, a witch who identified herself as a cousin claimed the body and took it to France as soon as it was released. She was buried here a day later. We've checked and the cousin doesn't actually exist in any records in Britain or France.

"We've done the necessary magical analysis and there is a body buried here. Without opening the grave, we can't say for sure that it is her. However, it matches LeDrox's description in terms of gender, age, height, weight, hair length, and other particulars. The coroner employed by the Department of Magical Weights and Measures says that he is 99.99 percent confident that it is the body of Ima LeDrox.

"A wizarding sculptor was commissioned to do the monument," Jean continues. "He was paid in cash with fifty percent up front and the rest on completion, provided he completed it within the deadline."

"It is a little over a month since the battle. It did not take the artist long to do such a remarkable work of art," I comment.

"Five days, apparently," comments Jean. "I'm given the impression that he was well-paid. It was a cash transaction and the person who paid him has vanished."

"How did you find out about this?" I ask.

"It was on the to-do list that Albus left behind," says Jean. "There was an item listed to check with Simon LeVigne about rumors. He was one of Albus' associates with the French Underground during the Grindelwald War. Minerva asked me to follow it up. This appears to be it." Jean waves towards what looks like offerings of flowers, crystals, candles, and bits of parchment at the foot of the monument and on the statue's sandaled feet.

"Quite honestly," says Jean, hostility creeping into her tone, "I am thoroughly disgusted by this display. Ima LeDrox was a cold blooded killer who should be rotting in hell and these idiots are leaving her tokens and fan mail."

I look around to make certain that no one sees what I am about to do. I take out my wand and check for wards and traps. There are none except the wards around this section of the cemetery that will make it seem uninteresting to Muggles.

"There are a few spells to keep the parchments from blowing away and to keep the flowers and such from being stolen," says Jean. She crouches down and picks up a chunk of rose quartz. Beneath it is a parchment. She takes it up and hands it to me.

I murmur one of my father's translation charms and read it aloud.

"_I read your words and had to come here. You were right, but they wouldn't listen. We're listening now and the day will come when everyone will understand."_

"Can you believe that crap?" sneers Jean. "Idiots."

"What words?" I ask.

"We don't know," says Jean, taking the note and placing it back under the rock. "Most of the notes we've found make reference to something LeDrox is supposed to have written. LaVigne is trying to locate whatever it is. I take it that she never brought up the subject with you?"

"We had several discussions about the future of the wizarding world," I reply. "Nothing was said about anything she may have written."

"Was she spouting the Dark Lord's line?" asks Jean.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "She was trying to persuade him to her way of thinking. LeDrox believed that Muggles were destroying the planet through over population, industrialization and the use of fossil fuels. She believed that wizards should be considered the highest life form on the planet. As such, wizards would have the inherent right to rule Muggles. She promoted the idea of taking control of the wizarding world for the purpose of conquering Muggles and reducing their numbers to a level more readily supported by the planet. She wanted Muggles to revert to an agrarian society controlled by wizards.

"Voldemort was more about power for power's sake," I continue. "He is a psychopath who enjoys causing others pain and he places no value on anyone's life except his own. Ima LeDrox was completely different. She believed in the rightness of the cause.

"LeDrox and I never discussed it," I confess. "I know that she killed several members of your family that night. To LeDrox, killings were executions in the name of the cause. She did not relish killing and when she did it, there was no sadism. She talked about making each kill clean, efficient, and as painless as possible. She said that it was her way of respecting the victim."

Jean wipes her eyes.

Ima LeDrox murdered Jean's parents, her siblings, and who knows how many other members of her family the night Voldemort decided that the McKinnons needed to be wiped out. The only reason Jean was spared was because she was on her honeymoon.

I put my hand on her shoulder.

"They – they were all killed with Avada Kedavra," she murmurs. "I wonder if she could do it nonverbally even then?"

"I do not know," I reply, stooping to pick up another note.

"_Muggle lovers killed Ima LeDrox. We will not forget. We will not forgive."_

"Lucius would be rather offended to be referred to as a Muggle lover," I state, wryly.

"I know," says Jean, sighing. "Leave it to Malfoy to deliver final justice to the witch who killed my family. I might have to take the Brown Roots hex off him for that one."

"I would not go that far," I reply. "He can still be a real arse when he wants to be. Besides, I imagine that Lucius considers your contribution to saving his family to be an outstanding debt."

Jean snorts.

"What do we do now?" I ask.

"LaVigne is going to use his contacts to see if he can find these writings," says Jean. "Remus is going to keep in touch with him."

"Whatever is happening, it appears that there is an Ima LeDrox fan club forming," I state, waving at the offerings nestled against the monument. "This has the quality of a shrine to it."

"The objects have symbolic meanings," says Jean, pointing to different flower arrangements and crystals as she speaks. "White chrysanthemums symbolize truth. Those crocuses represent foresight. Gladiolus is strength of character. Wisteria is faithfulness. The sprigs of rosemary are for remembrance. They should have left some poison ivy, just on general principle."

Jean crouches next to assorted crystals and stones.

"The bloodstone is a warrior stone for overcoming obstacles," she continues. "Garnet is for courage. Snowflake obsidian is for protection. There are some tiger eye stones here, too. They're for future lives."

Jean holds up a pink and green stone.

"I don't know what this one is," she says.

I take it and examine it.

"This is unakite. It is for healing of the soul and for transformation and guidance," I muse.

"Looks like someone is hoping she'll reincarnate," mutters Jean.

"That would not be me," I emphasize. "If Death walked the earth in a woman's form, it would be Ima LeDrox. Whenever Remus obtains these writings, I want to look at them. LeDrox was very persuasive when she spoke. Even Voldemort listened when she had something to say. If she translated her theories and beliefs into writing, they could be exceptionally persuasive."

"Tom Riddle was the most rabid promoter of the wizards should rule the world philosophy," observes Jean. "It doesn't mean that he was the only one."

* * *

Hermione

We are in an eighteenth century schooner that does not actually need masts and sails. Magic propels us through the water. Even the waves of the North Sea do not affect this ship, other than a gentle rocking.

We're on our way to Azkaban Island.

Warden Hensley decided to join us for the trip so that he could brief us on what is going on with the Dementors before we reach the island.

"There are two, three, or four Dementors flying around the north end of the island most of the day and night," he says. "We have no way of knowing if they are always the same Dementors. We can't tell them apart."

"Does Voldemort show any awareness of their presence?" asks Limnoreia.

"Not that we have been able to discern," replies the Warden. "Healer Mittleton was monitoring Voldemort's vital signs when the Dementors flew around the tower, yesterday. There was no change."

"I do not believe we should assume that means Voldemort is unaware of them," says Severus, his arms crossed on his chest as he leans against the wall of the cabin.

"The Healer is monitoring him now," says the Warden. "One of my Assistant Wardens will be watching us when we land. When the Patroni are set on the Dementors, Healer Mittleton will see if Voldemort shows any reaction at all."

"From what I saw in the Pensieved memory of Madam Long and Professor Franks' assessment of Voldemort, he's capable of a lot without showing any external signs at all," says Roger, stretching out his long legs from his chair next to Limnoreia."

"That's true," says Limnoreia. "We saw no sign that he was conscious until there was that split-second blip in his brainwave pattern. By that time, Madam Long was already fighting to keep him from taking over her body."

"Professor Snape," says Warden Hensley, "from your time of spying on Voldemort, do you know anything about how he lured the Dementors away from the Ministry?"

"Voldemort referred to having negotiated with the Dementors," Severus replies. "He never stated how he accomplished that negotiation. The common speculation among Death Eaters is that he promised them unlimited access to Muggle souls if they would aid him in his ultimate conquest of Britain."

I close my eyes for a moment and think about how helpless Muggles would be against Dementors. My parents…

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I look up at Severus. He is concerned.

"It's all right," I murmur, looking away.

"I asked Dad if he knew anything about how Voldemort dealt with the Dementors," interrupts Draco. "He said that Pettigrew was present at a one of their meetings. Pettigrew told him that the Dementor floated in front of Voldemort and not a word was exchanged the whole time"

"The communication that takes place between Dementors seems to happen at a psychic level," comments Severus, thoughtfully. "If Voldemort can communicate with Dementors at a psychic level, is it possible that whatever he has done to make himself immortal also makes him more like a Dementor?"

"He is certainly capable of sucking all happiness out of existence," observes Harry, dryly.

"I will attest to that," mutters Severus.

"That's something we'll have to explore," says Limnoreia. "I wish we could do another magical analysis on Voldemort and get to the deeper levels that we couldn't get to last time, but it's just too dangerous."

"Whatever is going on, the Ministry takes the situation seriously," says the Warden. "Albus Dumbledore sent Madam Bones information on the magic used by Dementors when they administer the Kiss. He started a veritable firestorm of controversy among the members of the security subcommittee of the Wizengamot and among key personnel at Magical Law Enforcement. None of us realized that we were creating something similar to Inferi when the Dementors executed prisoners using the Kiss. We are committed to ridding Britain of their presence by whatever means necessary."

There is a knock on the cabin door. A crewman sticks his head inside.

"Warden," he says. "We've sighted three Dementors."

"Showtime," announces Roger.

* * *

Severus

We are in the waters north of Azkaban Island. If we were Muggles, we would see nothing of it except jagged cliffs and scraggly bushes. The water around the island is full of boulders and rocks that serve as a barrier to any Muggle ships or boats that might even consider landing. The enchantments and wards surrounding the island will cause any captain and his crew to conclude that there is nothing of interest there and great danger in approaching. The repelling charms are the finest the wizarding world has to offer.

All of us on this ship can see Azkaban. The tower is on the south end of the island, which would be nothing more than a twenty minute stroll to the north end of the island.

Most of Azkaban is below ground. The tall, narrow, and windowless tower extends five stories into the air. It contains quarters for the guards, the kitchens and mess hall, offices and medical facilities. Below the surface of the island are cells. I wonder if anyone knows how many cells there actually are. The Warden says that whenever they need more cells, a hallway expands or lengthens and new cells appear. With the recent influx of Death Eaters, along with Voldemort, a flight of stairs extended downwards another level of cells and a whole new sub-level appeared.

I wonder if the Founding Four built Azkaban in their spare time? I daresay that Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw could have planned this out.

"There they are," says Potter, pointing.

"I see them," I comment. "There are three."

"Where?" asks Hermione, straining to see.

"They are near the tower," says Potter. "It's hard to pick them out because they are gray and the walls of the tower are dark gray. Watch for movement."

"Are we going to take them out from here or are we going to land on the island?" asks Draco.

"Do you think that it will be safe to disembark?" the Warden asks Roger.

"Yes," he says, confidently. "We have three people who can each cast a Patronus capable of dealing with a Dementor. Limnoreia has volunteered to act as bait."

"I don't remember saying that," calls out Limnoreia, as she joins us. She puts an arm around his waist and his arm snakes around her shoulders.

"It was sometime last night," says Roger, pulling her closer. "You said _yes, yes, yes_ several times very loudly."

Limnoreia gives Roger a gentle punch to the arm. Roger smiles down at her and tightens his arm around her.

I cannot fathom how Limnoreia could be comfortable with Roger's casual references to their intimate life. I could never do that and I do not believe that Hermione would agree to it if I did. We shall have a certain amount of decorum in our love life.

In public.

In private, it is something else entirely.

I plan to begin to explore the full range of our mutually agreeable sexuality as soon as we get to Chicago and are behind a locked and warded door. Alone.

* * *

Hermoine

We have our wands at the ready. The Warden insists on setting foot on solid ground first. Roger is right behind him. Severus follows with me right behind him. Harry, Limnoreia, and Draco are next.

The dock extrudes itself from the cliff. As soon as we step on it, we will be moved magically from the boat to the top of the cliff. The Wardens says that it operates on the same principles that make the Floo system work. I just hope it doesn't spit us out at the other end, stumbling and trying to catch ourselves when there are Dementors in the neighborhood.

The Warden and Roger step onto the dock and disappear. An instant later, I see Roger up on the cliff, waving to us.

Severus and I are next. He takes my hand and we carefully step together.

Other than a barely perceptible moment of disorientation, this is not a bad way to travel. Severus and I step forward to make room for Harry, Limnoreia, and Draco to arrive.

Just like Severus, they arrive with wands drawn and eyes on the sky. We want to wait until the Dementors get close so that we can see our Patroni work up close and personal.

"I can feel them," says Harry, trying very hard to restrain himself from calling up his silver stag.

"Here they come!" shouts Draco.

Roger, Draco, and I keep the others in the center of our group for their protection. Severus, Limnoreia, Harry, and the Warden have their wands out and are ready to cast, too.

I can feel the hideous sense of depression creeping up. Steeling myself against it, I think about Severus. In five days, our relationship will be formalized. It's a declaration of love for both of us and everyone will know. I love you, Severus Snape, and we'll never be alone again.

The happiness wells as I see a tattered gray robe in the air above us.

"Expecto Patronum!" shouts Roger.

"Expecto Patronum!" yells Draco.

"Expecto Patronum!" I call out like a war cry.

A silver otter issues from the tip of my wand. He turns and looks at me and then scampers off towards the Dementor.

"Holy shit," says Harry, behind me.

"Look at that," yells Limnoreia, triumphantly.

I turn my head just in time to see a Dementor fleeing from the silver Thunderbird. It doesn't get far. The Thunderbird's enormous beak clamps down on it and all that's left are the remains of a robe drifting in the wind out towards the sea.

Draco's Piasa Bird and my Otter have the second Dementor trapped in between them. The Piasa Bird flicks the razor sharp tip of his whip-like tail and slices the Dementor into pieces, which are gobbled down by Otter. Shredded pieces of robe fall from the sky.

"Look out!" shouts the Warden, pointing at a cluster of scruffy bushes.

We look and see the last Dementor speeding straight towards us, just inches above the ground, with the Thunderbird in hot pursuit.

What will happen if Roger's Thunderbird Patronus passes through us?

"Expecto Patronum!" Severus and Harry shout, simultaneously.

Two silver forms leap from their wands and fly at lightning speed towards the oncoming Dementor. They're going to deflect it so that it flies over our heads and the Thunderbird will follow it instead of flying through us.

The stag kicks his heels and changes directions, following the Dementor as it ascends high overhead. The cat bats at the hem of the Dementor's dragging robe and chases after it. I get a closer look at it as it pursues the Dementor.

Roger and Limnoreia stand and watch as the rest of us drop to the ground while the Thunderbird Patronus rolls through the space where we were just standing. It angles up and joins the pursuit of the last Dementor, who literally vanishes inside the belly of the bird.

Roger and Limnoreia are laughing.

"Did you think my Patronus would harm you?" he asks, offering me a hand and pulling me to my feet.

"I didn't know what it would do and didn't want to learn the hard way," protests Draco, brushing the dirt off his robes. "For all I knew, I'd end up an empty pile of robes."

Severus is completely nonchalant about the whole thing, as if he hadn't scrabbled around on the ground with the rest of us.

Interesting Patronus, my love.

"Quite honestly," declares the Warden, "I don't mind diving into the dirt after what I just saw. I'd like to take it inside and discuss how the Ministry could contract for Dementor removal services."

Roger offers a triumphant smile.

Let the negotiations begin.

* * *

"I'm simply not going to be available," says Draco. "I have to return to Chicago after this coming weekend. I have a business to run and I will return to Avalon College at the end of the month."

The Warden looks at me, expectantly.

"I don't have a business to run, but I'm returning to Chicago on August 21st," I state. "I won't be available as much as you are going to need."

"Which is why you need to contract with the Navajo tribal council for the services you need," states Roger, sliding smoothly into the opening we've handed him. "You need hunters who can be here for a least a few months while they track down the Dementors' hive. We have at least a dozen people who are capable of doing this."

Roger pulls an envelope from his pocket. It's rather crinkled and he smoothes it with his hands before he unseals it and removes some papers. He unfolds them and hands them to the Warden.

"There is a list here of the Dementor hives my associates have eliminated and their locations," says Roger. "You'll see that they have worked extensively in North and South America."

"This list goes back six hundred years," comments Warden Hensley, looking skeptical.

"We could go back further, if you like," Roger replies, nonchalant about the whole thing. "Their work in North America is sparse over the last two hundred years. Dementor hives can't make any inroads in North America. As soon as there is a sighting, my people go and take care of it. We have standing contracts with the two wizarding governments of North America to handle any Dementor sightings.

"There are several wizarding governments in South America and half of them have contracts with us," he continues. "Those governments that don't have a higher incidence of Dementor infestations – as you can see from the data."

"Why haven't we heard about the Navajo technique for Dementor disposal before this?" asks the Warden.

"Wizarding Britain hasn't paid much attention to what goes on outside of wizarding Britain for a long time," says Roger, dryly. "The Navajo method of producing a Patronus is familiar to most North American tribes, even though they don't use it themselves. It isn't a secret."

"I suppose you are right," acknowledges Warden Hensley, "although I hate to admit it. We've been rather insular. Business here at home has kept our focus inward."

The Warden offers each of us more tea.

"What about running a training program for a few select Ministry employees who would take on Dementor hunting duty?" asks the Warden.

"The tribal council will not approve it," Roger replies. "This knowledge can only be passed outside of the tribe with their approval. I was able to obtain permission to teach Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger because of their involvement in the war with Voldemort. Voldemort was perceived as a long term threat to our tribe. The two of them had to take vows that they would not teach anyone else these skills without permission."

"You drive quite a bargain, Professor Littlehorse," says the Warden, wryly. "I can't make any commitments on behalf of the Ministry, but I will be submitting a report that describes your success in dealing with the Dementors. I will recommend that the proper Ministry officials contact the Navajo tribal council and negotiate for the services of a Dementor hunting team."

Roger looks quite pleased with himself.

* * *

Severus

I hand Hermione a set of mirrored goggles. She examines the bizarre object and as she puts it on, the band catches in her hair. Potter helps her adjust it around the combs.

"I know they aren't particularly comfortable, especially with the band," explains the Warden. "We don't want to rely only on magic to hold them in place, so we have enhanced a Muggle product to suit our needs."

"Very sensible," I reply, adjusting my own goggles.

Voldemort cannot see us. Since his attack on Madam Long, the window in his room has been converted into a one-way mirror. When he looks at it, he will only see his own reflection, but we can see him clearly.

"Since we discovered that Riddle can attempt to possess people even without being able to use magic," says the Warden, "we have increased security around the cell. Even the prison has rearranged itself to locate this room that encloses his cell down at the end of a long hallway to give us more warning if an escape is attempted."

Hermione stands in front of the one way mirror, watching the cell's occupant. I step behind her and touch her shoulder. She looks up at me briefly and then goes back to observing Voldemort. Her eyes hidden behind the goggles, I cannot see enough of her face to judge her expression.

My former master is sitting on the bed in his cell. He is reading a Muggle paperback novel. Unless I am mistaken, it is Huckleberry Finn. I have never read it, but he appears to be absorbed in it.

"His eyes are still red," observes Hermione, softly.

"That change appears to be permanent," I reply, quietly. "His eyes sometimes glowed when he performed difficult magic."

"Professor?" asks Potter. "What did he look like before he made himself look like this?"

Do I want to discuss this? No. I prefer not to be reminded of my youthful naiveté.

Should I discuss this? Yes. This may be a useful piece of information.

"I was sixteen when I was first introduced to the erstwhile Lord Voldemort," I reply, thinking back, "he looked far more human than he does now. I cannot say that what I saw was truly what he looked like. He may have been using glamours to disguise his appearance even then.

"He looked human. He was tall and slender, but not unnaturally so. He had dark brown hair and actually had a nose. The only thing that appeared inhuman were his eyes. His irises were turning reptilian and had a reddish cast. Minerva McGonagall attended Hogwarts at the same time he did. She will tell you that he was considered quite handsome when he was a student."

The unnaturally tall, skeletal, pasty skinned, bald, red eyed, noseless former Dark Lord turns another page in his novel.

"He doesn't seem to know that we're here," comments Draco, sounding a bit unsure of himself."

"I wonder if there is a difference between his expressive magic and his receptive magic?" says Hermione.

"It is possible, given his attempt to possess Madam Long," I reply.

"With Happy Sleepy in his system," says Roger, "it should be impossible for him to consciously or unconsciously direct magic outward. He can't possibly cast a spell."

"There are forms of magic that could come to him," speculates Limnoreia. "For example, if he is sensitive to the magical fields of others, he would still be able to sense the presence of magical people."

"Maybe the wards prevent him from doing that," suggests Hermione. "The attack on Madam Long came when she was inside the cell and had made a connection with him to do the analysis."

"Ellen is working with some of the research people at St. Mungo's to develop magical sensors that can be built into the walls so that more readings can be taken without entering the cell," says Limnoreia.

"We want to restrict face to face contact with Voldemort to the least amount possible," says Healer Mittleton. "We are taking every precaution we can, but his abilities fall outside of anything we've encountered before or have any record of for a prisoner in the past."

"Our worst case scenario is that he will manage to possess someone and walk out of Azkaban because we won't know that it happened," says Warden Hensley. "Theoretically, he could move from person-to-person until he found someone who was going to the mainland."

"This will make it more difficult to keep his shell alive," comments Healer Mittleton. "We will have less time to figure out how to kill his inner core than we had hoped."

"We're working on it," says Roger. "Daniel Schuler is willing to throw his resources into the effort. Daniel has connections all over the world and we all need Tom Riddle dead. He's a threat to wizarding societies everywhere."

Hermione is gripping the ledge of the mirror, looking at Voldemort as he turns another page of his book.

"What are you thinking?" I whisper to her.

"About magic," Hermione replies, softly. "I'm looking for magic and see no sign of it. Yet, Voldemort is full of magic. I wonder how much he can do with the magic that comes to him from external sources. He's surrounded by the most invasive wards possible. The air he breathes is saturated with it. Even if he can't use it because his neural receptors are full of Happy Sleepy instead of whatever neural transmitter wizards have that allow us to use magic.

"He can't push magic out of his body, but still has it," Hermione continues. "Voldemort is a creative genius when it comes to magic. He has nothing but time in here. Granted, he doesn't have any resources to conduct research, but how much information is stored in his head?"

"I know what you mean," says Potter, quietly as he stands beside us. "I keep checking my scar to see if there is any sign of that connection I have with him. So far, nothing. I'm still uneasy."

"We should be," I reply. "There is no one more skilled at twisting magic to his own purposes than Tom Riddle. He spent years in the Middle East studying magic. He has accessed the most secret libraries of Dark magic anywhere. We do not know what he knows."

As we speak, Riddle stretches in his cot and places the book face down on the blanket. He rises and walks in front of the mirror.

All of us reach for our wands.

Riddle stands silently in front of the one way mirror.

"He can't possibly see us or even know that we are here," says Warden Hensley. "The silencing charms are in place. We can hear him, but he can't hear us. He knows that guards are here twenty-four hours a day and does this a few times every day. He'll look at the mirror as if he can see right through it. He does it to be intimidating."

Riddle looks across the mirror, as if he is scanning the room. He waves in a teasing manner and then slams his hand into the mirror, startling all of us.

He bares his teeth and sneers.

Then, he laughs.

He seems to be staring right at me and then his eyes drop as if he is looking at Hermione.

It is impossible. He cannot know that we are here or that I am standing right behind Hermione with my hands on her shoulders.

"I will kill you all in good time," hisses Voldemort. "I will take my time and enjoy it when I kill you, in particular."

It is as if he is saying it directly to Hermione and me.

Something twists in my stomach. I should not have allowed her to come here to see Voldemort. I should not have taken the chance. If he somehow knows about her, about our relationship…

Voldemort gives a cruel laugh and drops his hand from the mirror. He turns leisurely and returns to his bed, picks up the book and resumes his reading.

"Well," says Hermione, releasing a shuddering breath, "that was creepy enough."

"Did anyone feel anything?" asks Roger.

"Nothing," replies Potter, confidently, "and I have the most direct connection to him through my scar. I think he's bluffing."

"Nothing, here," replies Limnoreia.

"Nor here," answers Draco.

"Not a thing," says the first guard.

"Nothing, sir" adds the second guard.

"I didn't feel anything. I never have," says Healer Mittleton.

"Nothing, other than feeling intimidated," says Hermione.

"He's good at that," says the Warden. "How about you, Snape?"

"I did not sense anything magical," I reply. "He could use what he just did with anyone, as long as there was more than one person in the room."

"And there is always more than one person in the room," observes Roger. "I didn't feel any shifts in the magical energy of this room. I think that was Riddle's way of trying to keep everyone off balance."

"It would give him a sense of control," comments Limnoreia, "even though he has no control."

"I agree," says the Warden. "I know that it is disconcerting, but we've seen him do this sort of thing several times. It doesn't mean he can fulfill the threat."

"Be on your guard," I instruct him. "Take nothing for granted, because he will take advantage of it if you do."

* * *

Hermione

My hair is damp from the spray coming over the bow of the schooner. Severus and I have managed to get a few private moments away from the others while they are on their way to the cabin.

"Thank you for taking me to see Voldemort," I say quietly. "I saw him during the battle, but it was at a distance. It's very different to see him in a cage. Even without the ability to use magic, he is intimidating."

"He has spent decades inducing fear into the most powerful wizards in the world," says Severus, reassuringly. "He knows the subtle and unsubtle means of achieving his ends."

"What he did there," I state, nodding back at Azkaban, "had nothing to do with subtle."

"The less power he has," Severus replies, confidently, "the more he will rely on the unsubtle ways to make up for it."

"I don't think we are going to have as much time as we had hoped," I comment, worried. "Riddle may not be able to use magic in the traditional way, but it's still there inside him. What if he finds a way to use it that we've never thought of?"

"That is why the best minds are working on it," says Severus, in full snark. "The Ministry's task force will begin work next month."

"Oh, that's a comforting thought," I retort. "Is Fudge in charge?"

Severus barks a laugh.

"No, but given the Ministry's history there is probably someone of equal competence in charge."

"Like Umbridge?"

"Every bit as competent as Umbridge," he replies, knowingly. "This is why we have our own task force doing the same thing."

"Now, that's reassuring," I sigh. I gaze up at him, wondering the best way to broach the subject. Lacking any brilliant insights, I might as well dive in with all Gryffindor subtlety.

"I've never seen your Patronus, before."

Severus looks around to make sure none of the crew are watching.

"I did not learn to cast a Patronus successfully until Minerva worked with me after the Dark Lord fell the first time," he says, softly so no one can hear but me. "I was pleased that my Patronus turned out to be a panther. It seemed appropriate. I was surprised a few weeks ago when it changed."

Severus looks down at me, his dark eyes full of meaning and his voice drops an octave.

"It seems that I have fallen in love."

I place my hand over his heart. If we were completely alone, I would kiss him.

"Five days until Claiming," I whisper. "Nineteen until Chicago."

"I am counting the seconds," Severus replies, his voice full of promise.

* * *

Author's notes

Thank you to all my reviewers: Makeam, Laurenke1, Rinny08, Chaotizitaet, Graynavarre, Excessivelyperky, Not so Chicken Little, Mollzxkor, Catherin Rabb, Phimuatcmu, Darque Hart, All-I-Need, MrsDan, Syzgy07, Magicdaisy, Jade2099, T wrecks, Ismene5, Lovethelab, Traceyww, , Oscarxena, Blue artemis, Karla Manatee, Ebbe04, Kirien, Duj, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Seth7, Kcole, o0morgana0o, Latinachikita, Jocemum, Droxy, HinataMorningstar, Shadow, Paige, Keske, MamaJMarie, Weetziebat05, Angel-65, Dreamzone, Da-blk-saiyangirl, HJGrangerRocks, MollysSister, KimJo, She is brighter, MoreThanSirius, Notwritten, Andi-Scribbles, Glykera, Ayame-Paradise, Barb, Mother of Tears, Ihke, Missbluejuju, Mini-Mooney, Atreyu Abraxas Black, FlitterKat, Mennie, MMADfan, Sevs-heart, Truly Amused, and GloW91. For those of you who looked at the list of reviewers, the next chapter will be the Claiming ceremony, at long last. Yes, I am sneaky.


	115. Chapter 115

It would be nice if I owned this, but I don't.

Many thanks to Julia for working her magic on this chapter. Thanks also to others who shall be named later.

* * *

August 7th, 1999  
The Daily Prophet  
Society Page

_This season's most sought after invitation is one that can't be had in exchange for money or influence. It doesn't matter if you are the most powerful society maven or the wealthiest wizard in England, if you aren't a member or ally of the Order of the Phoenix, you won't get to attend the Claiming ceremony being held today in Ottery St. Catchpole. _

_The wizarding world was caught off guard three weeks ago when the announcement was made that Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was contracting to Claim Hermione Jane Granger, formerly of London. _

_In a less eventful year, the idea of a teacher Claiming a young woman who was his student a little more than the year before would have been food for scandal. In the aftermath of the Battle of Malfoy Manor and the downfall of the Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort, it is hailed as an alliance between two brilliant war heroes._

_According to Narcissa Malfoy, spokeswoman for the couple, they worked together as members of the Order of the Phoenix, developing a revolutionary new treatment for the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. This led to another partnership in the creation of the Happy-Sleepy potion, which enabled the Order of the Phoenix to capture Lord Voldemort. Madam Malfoy reports that the two have realized that they work well together and would like to explore a more personal relationship._

_This reporter would be remiss if she did not mention that the Virgo Curato, the rarest of all healing potions, was used during the Battle of Malfoy Manor. Because The Daily Prophet prides itself on being a family oriented publication, we will not discuss how the Virgo Curato is made. However, there is speculation that the relationship between Professor Snape and his former student may have already gone beyond the hand-holding stage._

_The ceremony is to be held in the garden at the Burrow, home of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley. Miss Granger has resided with the Weasley family since the murder of her parents by Death Eaters in 1997. She is currently a student in the Potions program at Avalon College in the United States and anticipates completion of her training in 2003._

_According to Madam Malfoy, Miss Granger will be wearing a Madam Malkin creation. The reception will feature Mrs. Weasley's homemade favorites and family friends will provide music for dancing._

_Standing with Professor Snape as the guarantors of the contract are Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy of Wiltshire. Miss Granger will be escorted by Arthur and Molly Weasley who will stand as her guarantors._

_The Daily Prophet joins with all of wizarding Britain in congratulating Professor Severus Snape and Miss Hermione Granger on their Claiming. After their distinguished service to our nation, we wish them well._

* * *

Hermione

"You have to put the warming charm on the bowl to keep the chili cheese dip from turning into a solid lump," I explain to Ginny, as she cuts the block of processed cheese into chunks. I pour in two cans of chili without beans into the cauldron and do a quick heating charm. "Believe me, if you're living in the Hall of Residence for the Mediwizardry students, bring out this dip and two bags of tacos and you'll be a hit."

"I've got the tacos, potato crisps, and the onion dip, plus six bags of the jumbo prawns," hollers Harry, hurrying in the door, brandishing Sainsbury's shopping bags.

"Excellent," calls Ginny. "We're making the chili cheese dip.

Harry puts down his bags and strides over to Ginny. Her hands are full of orange cheese stuff that probably isn't real cheese at all, so she tilts her head back for a kiss.

"Look at all of this food," declares Harry, looking around the kitchen. The counter tops are full to overflowing.

"Mum's been working on it since yesterday," says Ginny. "She made all these finger sandwiches and salads. Hermione and I did the fruit and vegetable trays. Charlie brought sausages from Romania and Bill brought cheese. You should see the cake."

"It's all under stasis and cooling charms," I add. "There's a case of champagne that Narcissa sent over."

"Mum didn't even mind that she did it," says Ginny. "They're really getting to be friends."

"How will she feel when our friends start showing up with food?" asks Harry.

"Everyone is going to say the same thing," I explain. "That it isn't an Order party without Jean's meatballs, Ellen's crab puffs, Limnoreia's sausage rolls or Tonks' cheese balls."

"If everybody we've talked to brings something, it won't seem like a big deal," says Ginny, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Officially, this party is for Severus and me," I comment, "but, I want it to be celebration for the Order. Because of all of the people we lost and the ones who were hurt, we haven't had any kind of celebration since the Battle. We deserve to have some fun."

"It's an official declaration that life goes on," says Harry, nodding sadly. "Ron would approve of having a party."

"Ron was always up for a party," Ginny laughs. "Let's make this one that he'd be proud of."

"That would involve getting drunk," teases Harry.

"Let's not make him that proud," I counter, laughing until I snort.

Which sends both of them into gales of laughter.

"It feels good to be able to think about Ron and laugh again," says Ginny, catching her breath.

"It does," I agree.

"Have you read _The Daily Prophet_ this morning?" asks Harry, trying to be casual about it and not succeeding.

"No," I reply, suspiciously. "Is there anything in it that's going to make me angry?"

"Oh, yeah," says Harry. "Mostly positive, but they had to slide off into speculating about the Virgo Curato. Let's just say that if I see a beetle today, I'm going to have to scrape the remains off my shoe."

"I'd really appreciate that," I snap. "Rita Skeeter is an absolute wretch."

"Shall I defrost these bags of prawns?" asks Ginny, making an indelicate attempt to change the subject before we launch into a rant.

"Go ahead and then put them in the cooling cabinet," I instruct. "Severus loves prawns, so I wanted to make sure we had enough."

"Six restaurant size bags of jumbo prawns?" asks Harry, his eyebrows up near his hairline.

"He really, really likes them," I explain, grinning. "When our friends in the Order stayed overnight in Chicago, we used up three bags. We've got a lot more people who are coming today. The prawns will be eaten."

"They'd all better show up," mutters Ginny. "We've got enough food here to feed an army."

"My point exactly," I reply with a nod.

* * *

Molly and Ginny adjust the skirt of my dress so that it flows smoothly over the three crinolines I'm wearing. Limnoreia and Jean straighten the lacy collar and puff out the elbow length sleeves.

I think that I may have seen a scene like this when Mum and I went to the cinema to see Cinderella all those years ago. I feel like I'm surrounded by fairy godmothers.

"Are you ready for the Stay Smooth and Spill Proof spells?" Ellen asks everyone.

Ginny is in her yellow silk Regency styled dress. Molly's turquoise silk dress is styled similar to mine and brings out the blue of her eyes. Jean has on a peach sundress with a white bolero jacket. Ellen is splendid in red and I am jealous of her dangling earrings, which appear to have real rubies in them.

Limnoreia has on light blue summer robes, which is always deceptive. Heaven only knows what she's wearing underneath. The other day, she was talking about a new corset she wants to buy that costs 150 galleons. She says that it is all hand sewn and should give her an hourglass shape and breasts that could hold up a book while she's reading. Somehow, I doubt that she'll be reading when she wears that corset.

Ellen casts the spells so that our clothes will be protected from wrinkles and spills for the rest of the day. It will come in handy with all of the sauces on the various hors d'oeuvres everyone has brought for the party.

"Men have no idea what they're missing by not having friends help them get ready," I announce, as Molly closes the clasp of my mother's pearl necklace behind my neck. Ginny does the same for the matching bracelet. Ellen hands me the pearl studs and I put them in.

"I think that's the sort of thing that might get you talked about if you're a guy," says Jean.

"From what I've heard," offers Molly, "I think that Gilderoy Lockhart was the kind of man who would have liked to have had help with that."

"Did you know that Lockhart came on to Severus while he was at Hogwarts?" says Jean, offhand. The expression on her face lets me know that there's more to this story.

I look at her in shock.

"I'm probably talking out of school," she continues, teasing.

"What did Professor Snape do?" asks Ginny, fascinated.

"Threatened to hex him so that no man would ever take interest in him again," replies Jean.

"Did it involve singing crabs?" asks Ellen.

"It might've," says Jean, scratching her head as she thinks. "It would have served him right."

"With his looks," says Ginny "half the girls at Hogwarts had crushes on him. I'll bet you didn't," she says to me. "You're not one to get taken in by good looks and personality."

I give Ginny a rather sharp look.

"Ginny!" says a shocked Molly.

Ginny blushes. "I didn't mean that the way that it sounded," says Ginny, apologetically. "I just meant that Hermione isn't shallow. She'd look for character before personality or looks. Lockhart had a serious lack of character and Professor Snape has loads of it."

"There's no doubt that Severus has enough character for two men," says Jean in a light tone. "He probably got Lockhart's share."

That breaks the tension and has all of us laughing.

"I think Severus is good looking," adds Limnoreia. "It's not the cover of a romance novel type of good looks. He needed to grow and mature into his face, but now that he has, it fits him."

"He's rather mysterious, too," Ellen comments. "You just know that he's hiding the secrets of the universe behind those dark eyes of his."

"His hair is looking better," observes Jean. "Regrowing his hair shouldn't have improved it that much."

"It's the new shampoo and conditioner my team developed for our interdisciplinary project at Avalon," I announce, proudly. "It brings out the best in a person's hair, whatever that might be. It made my hair softer, shinier, and more manageable."

"You can see what it did for my hair," declares Molly, happy to see the subject changing. "I was getting a little gray at the temples and now that's all gone."

"You've been keeping this to yourself?" says Ellen, sounding disappointed.

"Not at all," I state, emphatically. "Draco and Warren are negotiating with Mystic Visions, Incorporated. It's a beauty company in the United States. We're hoping to sell them the formula. I have extra bottles that I brought with me and I can always brew more. You can each have some to take home."

That may have been a close call in the keeping my friends happy department.

"I'll be glad to give it a try," says Jean. "My hair has so many colors in it; I've been accused of having a calico cat for a grandmother. I'd like to see what your shampoo and conditioner could do for it."

"I think we're all in agreement that Severus' hair looks better since he's been washing it regularly with your shampoo and conditioner," says Limnoreia. "I think that you ought to talk him into going with the bald look, again. Personally, I think he looks really hot with no hair."

"He does have a nicely shaped head without hair," says Ellen, nodding.

"This is so not fair that I didn't get to see any of this," says Ginny, looking like a thundercloud ready to burst.

"It wouldn't have been appropriate while you were his student," I state primly.

Ginny mutters something about missing all the good stuff.

Molly adjusts one of the combs in my hair and turns me towards the mirror.

"I think you're all set," she says.

I look so grown up. Instead of Hermione in waistcoats and robes that cover everything up, this dress hugs my curves and makes me look womanly. The pale green shade and the ivory lace were a good choice with my complexion. My eyebrows look better since I learned that plucking charm. Now, those hairs don't grow between my eyebrows and make it look like I have one big eyebrow across my forehead.

My hair looks good, piled up loosely on top of my head with the pearl combs holding it in place. I look female, pretty, feminine, and all those words that I never use to describe myself. Bookworm. Know-it-all. Swot. Those words I've used and others have used to describe me. Not today.

I look like a woman who is about to become engaged.

I realize that I am smiling at myself in the mirror and the women who are gathered behind me are smiling at me smiling at myself. This is my family and these are my friends. I have a home here and people who care about me. I have Severus who loves me. I have everything that is important.

"I think our guests are arriving," says Molly, proudly. "Shall we go down and greet them?"

I turn around and hug my honorary Mum. She hugs me back and I think about my other Mum. Surely she's here, somewhere in this room. She would be so happy for me. This hug is from both of them. I blink back a few tears.

"I'm ready."

* * *

Severus

"It's summer and it's a party," says Draco. "You don't have to wear black."

"No one would recognize me if I wore anything but black," I state, firmly. "These new robes are summer weight and quite appropriate for the occasion."

"What about wearing dark gray?" offers Lucius, tapping his wand against his hand. "I could charm your robes just a few shades lighter than black. You will be hot wearing black in the August sunshine."

"That is what cooling charms are for," I reply. I am not being stubborn. I am just going to wear black as I always do.

"The ladies will be wearing pastels and bright colors," counters Lucius. "You will look stark and forbidding by comparison. A raven among the tropical birds."

"A rather apt analogy," I announce, adjusting my collar. "I do believe I am ready."

I take another look in the mirror. I have a style that has served me well and this is simply a modified version of it. My black frock coat and trousers are made of a superfine summer weight wool, intended to be comfortable in warm weather. The sleeves of the coat extend only to my wrists instead of two inches beyond. This is my equivalent of wearing a short sleeved shirt and will make it easier to put on the Claiming bracelet.

The robe that goes over it is made from the same fabric and will billow suitably. I have already cast cooling charms, just in case.

My hair is clean and shining after using Hermione's shampoo and the smallest dab possible of the conditioner. It seems to be addressing my oily hair and dandruff problem in a most satisfactory manner. I have also decided to grow it longer, since I have discovered that dropping my head forward to allow my hair to curtain my face does not result in hiding my face nearly as well as I thought.

Besides, Hermione likes to run her fingers through it and who am I to deny her the pleasure?

"Do you have the bracelets?" I ask, turning around.

Lucius reaches inside his light gray robes and removes the two boxes. He opens them and I see the glimmer of gold.

"I gave them a last polishing," says Draco, quietly, "just to make certain that they were ready."

"Did you know that these bracelets belonged to Minerva McGonagall and her husband?" I ask Draco.

"He had good taste," says Draco, diplomatically. "These bracelets are works of art. It isn't easy to come by goblin wrought rope chain."

Before Draco knew of my true loyalties and my friendship with Professor McGonagall, he used to refer to her as The Tartan Horror. In his boyhood days when he believed that I was truly a Death Eater, I would laugh with him at the appellation. Now, he knows better.

There is a knock on the door and Draco opens it to admit his mother. Narcissa looks splendid in her soft lavender gown and with her blonde hair arranged in loose waves.

"Samantha and I are ready, gentlemen," she says in her cultured tones. She gives me a good once over.

"You look quite striking in your own unique way," says Narcissa, reaching up to adjust my robes at the shoulders. "Hermione is going to be pleased."

"You always know the right thing to say," I reply, wishing that I had the same talent. It would be exceedingly helpful, given that I will be in a social situation for the next several hours.

"I doubt that," she says, "but, I am getting to know Hermione and I am quite certain she has a deep appreciation for your character and finer qualities. She finds you quite attractive and that is what counts."

"Splendidly said," says Lucius in a suspiciously jovial manner. "We were trying to encourage Severus to consider altering his robes to a dark gray."

Narcissa chuckles.

"People would think you had turned soft," she teases. "You like to wear black and you should do what makes you comfortable. Today is about you and Hermione. She loves you just as you are."

I look at Lucius and Draco triumphantly. Draco rolls his eyes.

* * *

Hermione

The garden is in full bloom. Given that it is August, the annual flowering plants should be past their prime. Neville came out and worked his magic and brought all of the plants back into full flower.

Neville is a head taller than I am. He's still on the stocky side, but a lot more of that is muscle than it used to be. Right now, he's got his arm around my shoulder and we are admiring the four lilac bushes he planted.

"I knew you didn't want to go back there," he says, kindly. "Limnoreia took Pettigrew's wards down two weeks ago. I got the cuttings from that enormous lilac bush behind the house. This way, you'll be able to start new bushes from them when you get your own home."

"That is so thoughtful, Neville," I reply with a sniffle. "You're right. I don't ever want to go back there. I'm doing better with dealing with my parents' murders, but I think that visiting the scene of the crime would be terribly painful. Healer Smith's daughter Kendra is my solicitor. She's dealing with all of that and I prefer to keep it that way."

"You're moving on with your life," says Neville, philosophically. "There's no point in focusing on the past."

"You don't mind that my future involves Professor Snape?" I ask, smirking.

"He's not what we thought, back then," says Neville, in his easy going manner. "He was capable of being mean, but he had to be frustrated being caught between Voldemort and Dumbledore. He was leading a double life and he was in danger all the time. I didn't understand him then and I won't claim that I understand him now. I can understand that he had to be stressed out and that would have made me irritable, too."

"You're being very forgiving," I reply, softly.

"He deserves it," replies Neville. "Voldemort would still be free if not for Professor Snape. Besides, you really like him so he can't be so bad."

"No," I smile, "he's not so bad. Besides, he's not your teacher anymore. That has to make it easier."

"Be happy," says Neville, sounding far older and wiser than I ever would have thought. He bends down and kisses me on the forehead.

"He should be arriving, soon," I state. "Shall we go join the others?"

Neville offers me his arm and escorts me over where Molly and Arthur are standing under the shade of the tall oak tree. I love how my skirts swish along the path. I feel like I just stepped out of a romance novel. Since we are waiting for Severus to arrive with the Malfoys, Neville leaves me with them and joins Minerva over by the path that leads to the gazebo.

"Most of the guests are here," says Molly, smoothing the skirt of her dress. "Severus should be arriving with his entourage shortly."

"Look," says Harry, pointing just beyond the garden gate. "Professor Franks and the Schulers are here."

"Could you go and get them?" I ask. "I'm supposed to stay in the background until Severus arrives."

In short order, Anita and I are sharing hugs and Harry is introducing Professor Franks to Arthur and Molly.

"I'm delighted to be here," says Professor Franks. "Judith would have liked to come, but traveling on the Sabbath is an issue for her. Besides, she was away from her family for several days during the last few weeks." She holds up a camera. "I promised her photos and details."

"You look gorgeous," says Mrs. Schuler, admiring my dress. "Wherever did you have that made?"

"Madam Malkin's," says Molly, answering for me. "We all went and splurged a bit."

"We'll be here for a few days while Daniel attends to some business concerns," says Mrs. Schuler. "I'd love to see Diagon Alley, if you're free?"

"Certainly," says Molly. "Ginny and I were planning to go and pick up her apprentice Mediwitch uniforms. We could make a day of it, Mrs. Schuler."

"I'm just Margaret," says Mrs Schuler, amiably.

"And I'm Molly," says Molly, in return.

"I can't go on Monday," I comment, interrupting. "Severus and I are going to Diagon Alley on Monday. It's our first public date."

"In that case, we should definitely go on Monday," quips Anita. "Isn't there something about being chaperoned in the contract?"

I'm about to respond to that when Arthur points out that Severus and the Malfoy family have just Apparated in.

_This is it. This is really it._

* * *

Severus

We arrive just outside the wards surrounding the Burrow and walk up the path to the garden. We will not be going into the house, a bizarre concoction of floors and walls that do not match and should not be capable of standing were it not for the magic holding it all together.

A trellised archway will serve as the garden gate, since there is no actual fence around the garden. I can see dozens of guests waiting for us. When we arrived, they moved to line the path inside the garden.

Lucius and I walk side by side. Narcissa, Samantha, and Draco follow behind us. Before we left, Draco was teasing Samantha about her new white blonde hair color. We did not know if her hair would change when the adoption was finalized, but it seems that the charm applies to fourteen year olds who are adopted into the family.

In spite of fantasies I used to have as a boy that Abraxas Malfoy would adopt me so that Lucius and I could truly be brothers, I do not believe I would look good with the hair color. White hair on pasty white skin might cause students to mistake me for a Hogwarts ghost.

Lucius is using his snake headed cane today, going for high drama. Our actions from this moment through to the completion of the Claiming ceremony are largely dictated by tradition. Then, there shall be dancing. No doubt, Molly has probably killed the fatted calf and will be serving it with vegetables and gravy.

We stop before the archway, which is covered with climbing roses. Lucius uses his cane to tap the arch, which rings like a bell.

As the eldest son of the family, Bill steps into the path in front of the arch.

"Who seeks admittance to the home of my family?" he says, beginning the ritual.

Lucius responds in his most formal tones.

"I am Lucius Malfoy and I am accompanied by my wife Narcissa, my son Draco, and my daughter Samantha. We are here to escort my kinsman, Severus Snape, who wishes to pay call upon Arthur and Molly Weasley for the purpose of Claiming the most honorable Hermione Granger, a daughter of the house."

"On behalf of my parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley," responds Bill, "I welcome you and your family to our home. We welcome Severus Snape, who approaches our family in honor to Claim Hermione Granger, a daughter of our house and sister of my heart."

Bill steps aside and extends his arm in welcome. Lucius and I bow and walk through the rose covered arch, followed by the rest of the family.

If we did not have the path before us, we could simply follow the path created by the parting of the crowd that met us at the entrance to the garden.

My friends are here. Minerva, of course. Neville Longbottom is standing proudly beside her with her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. The genuiness of her smile warms my heart as our eyes meet. Chester stands on the other side of Minerva and I suspect he is displeased with Longbottom.

Filius and Pomona are in attendance. Hagrid towers over them and blows his nose loudly with a handkerchief the size of a bath towel.

Jean and Mike are arm in arm. Ellen and Mark are beside them. Limnoreia and Roger stand across from them on the other side of the path. I see that Daniel Schuler and his family were able to attend after all. Professor Franks looks like she is enjoying the formalities. I am sure she finds all of this an interesting sociological study.

Blaise Zabini, is here as well. I see no sign of a girl accompanying him.

Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin are together. I suspect that as soon as he collects his first paycheck, he will put a ring on her finger.

Daedelus Diggle and Aberforth Dumbledore are standing back from the path, watching as we go by. Aberforth offers a nod of recognition. Mundungus Fletcher was not invited due to his tendency to pilfer the silverware at any party he attends.

Which reminds me of absent friends. Especially since Poppy is standing alone. It is so strange to see her without Albus at her side. She gives me a wink as we walk by.

Hermione's friends are gathered together. I recognize Lavender Brown. She stands next to Seamus Finnegan who is watching Lucius rather warily. According to Hermione, Miss Brown is in mourning for Ronald Weasley. Apparently, she regrets having ended their relationship a few months before he was killed.

Luna Lovegood appears to be escorted by Colin Creevey, who is fingering the camera around his neck. The young whelp knows better than to take any photos during the ceremonial part of today's events. Lee Jordan is smiling like the Cheshire cat and I have no idea why.

The Patil twins are here. If it were not for the fact that they wore different House ties when they were at Hogwarts, I would not have been able to tell them apart. They are looking at me as if they cannot believe what they are seeing. It must be my vastly improved hair.

We have come upon a gaggle of Weasleys, standing in the shade of a tall oak tree. They are rank ordered by age. Charlie stands at the front of the group and steps aside to let us pass. Percy is accompanied by Penelope Clearwater and offers a respectful bow of the head.

The twins offer simultaneous curtseys. I can only shake my head at them, since I am not supposed to laugh aloud. I hear what sounds like a choked back giggle from Samantha and a _shhhh_ from Narcissa.

Harry Potter is here with Ginevra Weasley. They release each other's hands and Miss Weasley curtseys and Potter bows.

It is about time Potter showed the proper respect.

And here is Hermione, standing in between Molly and Arthur.

She is the most beautiful, radiant creature on this planet. There is not a woman here who can compare. Hermione does not hold back her feelings from her face. She is gazing at me with the joy of a woman who is loved and loves in return.

I lose myself in her gentle brown eyes as she looks up at me. She is so much more than I deserve. How she could possibly love me when she could have had any of them?

Before I can embarrass myself by blurting out a completely soppy declaration, Hermione dips into her formal curtsey. I execute my finest bow.

The formalities continue with Lucius making the declaration.

"My family and I have the privilege of escorting our kinsman, Severus Snape, who wishes to Claim Hermione Granger, a daughter of your house."

"My family and I are pleased to receive you into our home and consider your offer," replies Arthur.

Lucius reaches into his robes and removes the scroll containing the contract.

"A contract has been negotiated between our families to allow the Claiming to proceed," announces Lucius.

Arthur makes a show of accepting the contract and unrolling it to peruse the contents.

While he does this, all those present gather and form a loose half circle around us.

"This is the contract that we negotiated," announces Arthur. He turns to Hermione. "The contents are the same as we have discussed. Is this contract acceptable to you?"

"It is," says Hermione, confidently as she looks at me.

Arthur turns to me.

"Is this contract acceptable to you?" he asks.

"It is," I reply.

"Given that the contract has been negotiated and is agreeable to both Hermione Granger and Severus Snape," says Arthur, "the contract shall be examined to ensure that no undue magical bindings have been placed upon it." He looks to Hermione. "Who will you call to examine the contract?"

All of this has been discussed and arranged beforehand, so the examiners know they will be called upon and are prepared.

"I would like to ask that Bill Weasley examine the contract on my behalf," says Hermione.

Bill moves quietly to the front and stands beside Arthur.

"Who do you wish to examine the contract on your behalf?" asks Arthur, looking at me.

"I request that Minerva McGonagall examine the contract on my behalf," I reply.

Minerva steps forward

The next few minutes are occupied as Minerva and Bill analyze the contract with a few wand waves and murmured spells to assure that Lucius did not spike the contractual punch, as it were.

"I am satisfied that there are no hidden spells or bindings on this contract," announces Minerva.

"I am also confident that there are no hidden spells or bindings on this contract," says Bill.

The two of them stand to the side to wait until they are called upon to examine the bracelets.

Arthur holds out his hands to the crowd.

"Is there anyone present who knows of any prior commitment on the part of either Hermione Granger or Severus Snape that would preclude establishing this contract of Claiming?"

In my case, it is purely a formality. There is no queue of women lining up for my favors. However, if Neville Longbottom makes any sort of move at this time, he will wish he had died in one of his cauldron explosions.

No one moves or speaks. It is just as well, since I would be forced to hex them.

"Seeing that there is no one who knows of any impediment to the contract," announces Arthur, "do you have the bracelets?"

Lucius steps forward with the two boxes containing the Claiming bracelets. Narcissa joins him in front with Arthur. She opens the boxes and takes out the two bracelets, holding them out to Molly. Molly accepts them and holds them up for everyone to see.

"Would the examiners please analyze the bracelets to ensure that there is no hidden magic or bindings placed on them?" asks Arthur.

Again, Minerva and Bill conduct the analysis to make sure that the no one has tampered with the bracelets. It ends with their assurances that the bracelets are magically clean.

"Thank you," says Arthur, bowing.

Minerva and Bill bow in return and take a few steps back.

The preliminaries are finished. It is now time for the ritual.

As my closest family, Lucius and Narcissa stand on either side of me. Narcissa holds what will be Hermione's bracelet. Arthur and Molly draw Hermione forward and stand on either side of her. I hear our friends in the half circle around us shifting so that they can get a better view of the six of us standing in the shade of the tall oak tree.

Narcissa holds up the bracelet that once graced Minerva's wrist and speaks clearly and loudly so that all can hear.

"Hermione," she begins, "will you accept this bracelet in token of the commitment that exists between you and Severus, the brother of my heart? Will you give him your time, your attention, and your thoughts? Will you come to know him for the man that he was, the man that he is, and all that he will be?"

"I will," replies Hermione, gazing into my eyes.

Narcissa kisses the bracelet and passes it to Lucius. He holds it aloft and looks at Hermione.

"Hermione," he states, with more warmth in his tones than I would have credited him for. "Will you accept this bracelet in token of the commitment that exists between you and Severus, the brother of my heart? Will you respect his dignity, guard his honor, and offer him your loyalty? Will you comply with conditions specified in the Claiming contract?

"I will," she says, this time with a shy smile.

Lucius kisses the bracelet and then hands it back to Narcissa.

Now, it is my turn.

Molly holds up the bracelet that will soon be wrapped around my wrist.

"Severus," says Molly in tones that would imply that I might be one of her brood, "will you accept this bracelet in token of the commitment that exists between you and Hermione, a daughter of my heart? Will you give her your time, your attention, and your thoughts? Will you come to know her for the woman that she was, the woman that she is, and all that she will be?"

"I will," I intone, solemnly. Molly is looking at me as if she is going to start patting me any moment now. I dearly hope not.

Molly raises the bracelet to her lips and kisses it. She passes it to Arthur. In the manner of fathers since time immemorial, he gives me a look of warning that I had better not break his daughter's heart. His features take on a more benevolent expression as he speaks.

"Severus," he says, formally. "Will you accept this bracelet in token of the commitment that exists between you and Hermione, a daughter of my heart? Will you respect her dignity, guard her honor, and offer her your loyalty? Will you comply with conditions specified in the Claiming contract?"

"I will," I reply, meaning every word.

Arthur kisses the bracelet and hands it to Molly.

With the delicate and artistic movements of a Transfiguration Mistress, Minerva transforms a flower from the garden into a small table. Bill reaches into his robes and takes out the quill and unseals a pot of ink. I cannot help but admire the quill. Poppy gave it to me, having persuaded Fawkes to donate one of his feathers for the event. She said that Albus would have done the same, which led to a rather emotional moment involving another one of my handkerchiefs.

Arthur unrolls the Claiming contract and spreads it out on the table. Bill hands me the quill and I accept it.

"Hermione," I state, holding out the quill to her. "Are you willing to be Claimed by me and explore the possibilities of our relationship? Do you agree to be courted only by me for the duration of our contract, unless ended by agreement or concluded by marriage?"

Her face lights up. I can scarcely breathe in those moments when I realize that I make her happy. That I can make her happy.

"I will," she says, softly.

It is a miracle. How I have yearned for this.

Hermione takes the quill from my hand, dips it into the ink and scratches her name on the parchment. She looks up at me, expectantly.

"Severus," she says, holding out the quill. "Are you willing to be Claimed by me and explore the possibilities of our relationship? Do you agree to be courted only by me for the duration of our contract, unless ended by agreement or concluded by marriage?"

In another crowd, Hermione's ritual statement would have been greeted with gasps and declarations of a scandal. Tradition calls for Hermione to ask if I will agree to be her protector and if I will guide her into a greater understanding of the possibilities of our relationship.

Anyone who expects Hermione Granger to accept any sort of subservience in a relationship is in for a rude awakening. This is the woman who asked to Claim me before I had the chance to ask to Claim her.

These people know Hermione. If they are surprised by our changing the ritual to suit ourselves, no one has made a sound.

"I would be honored to be Claimed by you," I reply, inclining my head in a bow.

As Hermione puts it, women's liberation comes to the wizarding world. I am sure that Jean, Limnoreia, Minerva, and Ellen wholly approve. They have been living the life for years.

Mutual Claiming. Perhaps we shall start a new trend in the wizarding world.

I accept the quill and affix my signature to the appropriate place on the document.

I resume my place and give the quill to Narcissa. She signs as a guarantor of the contract, followed by Molly, then Lucius, and finally Arthur. Minerva and Bill sign as the official witnesses. Minerva casts the spell to make duplicate copies of the contract. Lucius pockets one and Arthur takes the other.

Narcissa hands me Hermione's bracelet, which has been in her keeping.

I arrange the clasp so that I may put it around Hermione's wrist.

"Will you accept this bracelet as symbol of the Claim we hold upon each other?" I ask.

Hermoine holds out her left arm, the inside of her wrist exposed.

"I would be honored," says Hermione, happiness in a veritable shimmer about her.

I kiss the bracelet and slip the slender gold rope chain around her wrist and affix the clasp. In the only public kiss the guests will see initiated by me today, I kiss Hermione's wrist to seal the bracelet. I do not know if anyone saw her barely perceptible shiver…

Molly holds out the larger bracelet that Hermione will place around my wrist. Hermione accepts it.

I hold out my left arm, the inside of my wrist facing up. How fitting that the Claiming bracelet will adorn the same arm that holds the faded Dark Mark. The commitment represented by the one represents the present and the future. The other, by the grace of God, will continue to fade into the past.

"Will you accept this bracelet as symbol of the Claim we hold upon each other?" she asks, following the ritual.

Her words mean the world to me.

"I would be most pleased to wear your Claiming bracelet," I reply, dropping my voice in the way she likes.

Hermione touches her lips to the bracelet and then leans forward to place it around my wrist. Her fingers are gentle as she adjusts the clasp. The golden links feel cool for an instant and then warm to my skin, growing even warmer as Hermione kisses the pulse point of my wrist to seal the bracelet.

Fourteen days until we travel together to Chicago. Not a moment too soon.

It is time to complete the ritual. Hermione and I stand face to face. I hold out both my hands and Hermione places her hands trustingly in mine.

Wizarding tradition holds that women are closer to nature and should thus be the ones to establish the circle of magic that bind a couple together. The Claiming ritual uses a minimal binding. It is an oath of honor that the couple will keep faith with each other within the parameters of their contract.

Narcissa speaks for both families.

"The Claiming is symbolized by accepting and wearing the bracelets so that all will understand the commitment you have made to each other. We, who stand as your families, offer our blessings and stand as the guarantors of your Claiming contract."

Molly holds her wand over Hermione and Narcissa raises her wand above my head. Both begin to say the Latin words that will give us their blessing and establish the link that will tell them if Hermione or I have violated the Claiming contract.

I feel a wash of magic flow through me as Narcissa touches her wand to my bracelet.

Narcissa and Molly exchange places and repeat the spells. This time, it is Molly who finishes as she touches her wand to my bracelet. Another wash of magic.

Arthur and Lucius take their places and begin to repeat the process. I watch as a sprinkle of gold from the spell flows over Hermione. I am no longer listening to the words of the ritual, since they are simply repeating the same spell. I am busy watching my beloved's face. Hermione's expression brightens each time the magic flows around her.

Her hands feel so soft and delicate in my large ones. She trusts me in this. Hermione loves me. A bitter man who is twice her age. Derided by her friends and once a loyal servant of Lord Voldemort. It is nothing less than a miracle.

Maybe I should have just married her instead of going through the formality of Claiming.

Except that she is in Chicago and I am in Scotland. If I were to join the faculty of Avalon College, there are those who might imply that Hermione would receive some form of special treatment because of it. In a few years, she will start doing internships and then it would be more viable.

We should wait. This is the right thing.

Fourteen days until Chicago. I can wait fourteen days.

I shall visit Chicago often.

One last burst of magic and the ceremony is finished. Hermione and I have Claimed each other.

The sound of phoenix song fills the air.

* * *

Hermione

What a beautiful ending to the Claiming ceremony! I don't know when Fawkes arrived, but the song he is singing is the most exquisite thing I've ever heard.

I take Severus' arm and we are followed by the Weasleys and Malfoys as we step out from under the oak tree. We all want to see Fawkes.

No one is talking. All of the guests are gathering together and watching Fawkes, high up in the oak tree. His golden red plumage gleams in the sunlight that breaks through the leaves. His song makes me think of new beginnings, first love, and all of the glories of the finest summer day.

I lean my head against Severus' shoulder. I can do that, now. In public and everything.

Severus looks down at me and smiles. He looks happy. Severus is actually smiling in public.

"Do you think that he is singing for us?" I whisper.

Before he can answer, the singing stops.

With a great flapping of wings, Fawkes takes flight. He circles overhead and then makes a steep dive.

Right into the crowd.

There is a loud squawk and a yelp behind us. Severus and I turn around to see something quite unique.

"Why is Fawkes standing on Mike Lamb's head?" asks Molly, curiously.

"Don' innerfere," calls Hagrid, his giant's voice booming through the garden.

"Look at that," says Severus, softly, his grasp tightening on my arm.

"Can you see the way Fawkes is looking at her?" whispers Minerva.

Fawkes is standing on Mike's head, gazing at Jean with a look of purest adoration.

He starts to sing. It's the same song he was singing in the tree above our heads. Now, Fawkes is singing it to Jean. It's a love song.

Jean is gazing back, completely enraptured.

"Jean, honey," says Mike, sounding very confused and uncomfortable with a fairly good sized winged creature standing on him. Fawkes' talons aren't exactly digging into his skull, but it has to hurt with the way he is clamped onto Mike's head. "Why is this bird on my head and what is going on?"

Jean holds out her hands to Fawkes. He clambers awkwardly off Mike's head and into her hands. Mike rubs his forehead, reddened from the squeeze of the talons. He's going to have bruises.

Fawkes is serenading Jean. It can't be easy holding a bird the size of a small goose out in front of you the way Jean is doing it. Maybe the phoenix song is helping her to hold him up?

Jean draws Fawkes against her and cradles him like a baby.

They burst into flames.

"JEAN!" screams Mike, in horror.

There is pandemonium as guests stumble back out of the way.

Mike and a dozen others have their wands out and are getting ready to cast.

Madam Pomfrey is screaming at the top of her lungs.

"It's all right!!! He's bonding with his new human. This isn't hurting either of them."

"She's right," hollers Hagrid, pushing through the crowd. "They'll be fine. Jean isna on fire. You'll see!"

Mark Smith has grabbed Mike's arm and is talking to him, trying to calm his panic.

The flames were scarlet and gold when the conflagration started. Now, there are other colors in the flames. There is blue and purple, which fades quickly. I can see Jean. She's not on fire, but she's in the fire. The flames are turning to green and silver. They are starting to fade.

Jean is looking at Fawkes, cradled in her arms. He is gazing up at her and starts to sing, again. There is a bright green and silver flare of light and suddenly the flames are gone.

Jean is standing, looking down at the phoenix chick in her hands.

She looks unharmed.

Except that her hair is gone.

And her eyebrows.

"Jean," shouts Mike, frightened and grabbing her by the shoulders. "Are you all right?"

Jean raises her head and looks at Mike, giving him a winsome smile. She lifts her hands and holds up the phoenix chick, cheeping happily in a handful of ashes.

"Isn't he the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" she says, blissfully.

Mike looks down at the bird, which only has eyes for Jean.

"Actually," says Mike, confused. "He's looking a little scruffy right now."

"Don't you say that about my baby," says Jean, glaring at him and pulling the chick up against her heart. "Don't you listen to him, Fawkes. You are the sweetest and dearest bird that there has ever been," she croons, stroking his tiny head.

Ellen and Poppy have been pushing their way through the guests, with Hagrid right behind them.

"It's all right, Mike," says Poppy, reassuringly as she puts her hand on his arm. "Albus told me what it was like when Fawkes bonded with him. The flames didn't harm him and they haven't hurt Jean. But, he lost all his hair and he said he felt drunk for about a day."

"Issa real privilege to see this," says Hagrid, choking with emotion. "A once in a lifetime chance to see a phoenix bonding." He blows his nose loudly and wipes his eyes. "Albus would be so pleased that Fawkes has a good home."

Ellen has Jean, who is still busy sighing over Fawkes, by the shoulders.

"If you wouldn't mind, Molly," says Ellen, "I think Poppy and I would like to take Jean into the house and check to make sure she's all right."

"We're fine," protests Jean. "We're just very, very, very happy. Aren't we Mike?"

"Yes, we're really, really, really happy," says Mike, with just the slightest hint of exasperation.

Molly takes charge and starts ordering everyone out of the way.

Ellen and Poppy are gently moving Jean along towards the house with Mike following behind.

Jean turns her head and calls back to us over her shoulder.

"That was an absolutely beautiful ceremony," she says, sounding rather intoxicated. "You look so great together. I just know you're really, really, really happy and you'll be wonderful together and really, really happy. I'm so happy for you and now I've got Fawkes and I'm just so happy, I could cry. Right now, I'm going to take Fawkes into the house so we can make sure he's all right. You two go ahead and start the party. Don't mind us, we'll catch up later."

She proceeds to ask Poppy what a baby phoenix eats.

Jean's assurances and protests fade out as she is gently frog marched into the Burrow.

"You know what, Professor?" comments Harry, who somehow has ended up standing next to Severus.

"You have an observation to make, Mr. Potter?" responds Severus in his best professorial voice.

"The Claiming ceremony was really something," replies Harry. "But, when any of the guests are asked what they remember best about the Snape and Granger Claiming ceremony, Fawkes and Jean are what they're going to talk about."

"Believe me, Severus," says Draco, clapping him on the shoulder. "This is one party they'll never forget."

"Every time I think that anything in the magical world is predictable," replies Severus, shaking his head, "the universe conspires to prove me wrong."

* * *

Author's notes

I had hoped to do the ceremony and party in one chapter. I couldn't get the party finished in time, so it will be chapter 116.

Thank you to all my reviewers: HinataMorningstar, Dressagegr rrl, Graynavarre, Makaem, HJGrangerRocks, Laurenke1, KellyRoxton, All-I-need, Mollzxkor, Sinkme, Voxangelus, Klschmidt, Blue Artemis, T wrecks, Murgy31, Oscarxena, Fatalani-Zabini, Dverducci, Karla Manatee, Pickles87, Mrsdan, She is brighter, Droxy, FlitterKat, Darque Hart, 7differentdoors, Jade2099, Rhonda H., MoreThanSirius, Traceyww, Ebbe04, Vampire Fortune, MamaJMarie, Magicdaisy, Mennie, KimJo, o0morgana0o, Angel-65, Seth7, Maddie50, Kirien, Duj, Chaotizitaet, Ihke, Latinachikita, Glykera, Bauerbaby24, Mini-Moony, Persevero, OhLollyLollyLollyLollipop, Missbluejuju, Excessivelyperky, MollysSister, Mother of Tears, MysticSong1978, Notwritten, ., Legilimens31, Glykera, Atreyu Abraxas Black, Snakegirl-Sprockett, Dezaria, Jocemum, Glykera, Multitaskmom, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Estriel and Erytha.


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